Murder of a Royal Pain

“That’s interesting, because I heard that Annette was threatening to divorce him.” Skye tried to make sense of the conflicting information. “Of course, Dr. Paine could have been just feeding you a line to get into your pants.”

“That’s not how he is.”

“Then maybe his plan to get you the chairmanship required killing Annette. With her out of the way, you’d get the job; in fact, you did get the job when she died.” Skye leaned back in her chair. “It is surprising to see Dr. Paine here tonight. His wife’s only been dead a week. You’d think if he cared for her at all, he’d still be grieving.”

“Linnea insisted he remain active in the Promfest committee.” Evie made a face. “She’s sure that between the sympathy vote and Dylan’s presence, she’s got prom queen in the bag.” Evie stared straight into Skye’s eyes. “Which is why I would never have killed Annette. It would have given Linnea too much of an advantage over Cheyenne.”

Skye raised a shoulder in a half shrug, but silently agreed. She had explained that same fact to Kurt a couple of days ago regarding Nina Miles. “One last question. What did Annette have on you that made you give up the chairmanship?”

“Nothing.” Evie’s pupils dilated.

“Look, I promise, unless it has to do with Annette’s death, I won’t tell anyone your secret.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Evie crossed her arms and refused to meet Skye’s stare. “I don’t have any secrets.”

“Okay. Let me guess. Does it have something to do with your drinking problem?”

“How did you . . . I mean, I don’t have a drinking problem.”

“I’m truly sorry, Evie, but I know that you do.” Skye went into counselor mode. “Did Annette threaten to tell everyone?”

Evie shook her head.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, and once you admit it, you can get some help.” Skye kept her voice gentle.

“Going for help is what got me into trouble.” A tear slipped down Evie’s cheek.

“How?” Skye dug a packet of tissues out of her tote bag and handed one to Evie.

“Annette found out I had been in rehab. She said she’d tell everyone if I didn’t let her be the Promfest chair.”

“Would that have been so bad?” Skye asked. “All the celebrities go to rehab, and everyone says they’re wonderful and brave for admitting they have a problem.”

“Their husbands are not ministers. You Catholics think you can just say you’re sorry and be forgiven. Our religion isn’t like that. We believe alcoholism’s a sin, and that liquor is a tool of the devil. My husband told me to pray my way to sobriety, and that’s exactly what he thinks I did.”

“You mean, your husband doesn’t know you were in rehab?”

“No. I told him I was visiting my parents in Florida—they retired to Naples a few years ago.” Evie inserted the money into a pouch and zipped it shut. “But it was worth it. I haven’t had a drink in four months.”

“Okay. Say I believe you. Then how could you have been drunk and passed out the night Annette died?”

“After seeing you and thinking you were a ghost, I ran out to my car.” Evie shoved her chair back and got to her feet. “Dylan found me there and was comforting me. When the police showed up, Dylan hid on the floor of the backseat, then sneaked back into the hall through the window in the men’s room.”

“By comforting, I assume you mean boinking your brains out?” Skye stood, not wanting Evie to loom over her. “So you were only pretending to be drunk? You’d rather your husband think you fell off the wagon than that you were riding Dr. Paine’s chassis.”

“You know”—Evie pushed her way past Skye to the door—“someday you’ll go too far, and instead of investigating a murder, you’ll be the victim of one.”

Skye sped into her driveway, nearly rear-ending the black Land Rover parked in front of her house. Once she got the Bel Air under control, she hopped out of the car and dashed up the front steps. It was nearly midnight. What was Kurt doing here?

Kurt met her at the top of the stairs. His usual good humor was absent, and he stood blocking her access to the porch. “Why didn’t you tell me Annette Paine’s death was declared accidental?”

“What?” She pretended surprise.

“Don’t try that innocent act with me,” Kurt said sharply, biting off his words. “That’s what Simon was here yesterday to tell you, wasn’t it?”

“Go away. It’s late and I’m tired.” Skye shoved him back, walked past him, and unlocked the door. “We’ll discuss it tomorrow.”

He ignored her words and followed her inside. “You don’t believe it’s an accident, do you?”

“No, I don’t.” Skye went into the kitchen and took a two-liter bottle of Diet Coke from the fridge. “And I said we’ll talk tomorrow.”

Kurt reached around her and snagged a beer. “I promise to leave as soon as I finish this.” He waved the bottle of Beck’s at her.

“Fine.” Skye narrowed her eyes. “But I don’t know why it has to be this minute.”

“Let’s just say, so I can sleep better.” Kurt joined her at the table.