Page 51 of What Happened Last Night

“No, I haven’t met the man. Why?” I said. I paused, but the detective didn’t answer my question and I went on. “I would know his face if I saw him, though. What’s going on, Detective?”

The line was quiet for a moment, and then the detective spoke again.

“If he should turn up on your property, you need to call the police immediately,” he said.

“Why?” I demanded. “Do you think he’s dangerous?”

“Yes,” Detective Del Rey said.

I couldn’t knock his honesty on that score.

“And what? He’s threatened me? Why can’t you arrest him?” I demanded.

“He hasn’t threatened anything specific,” Detective Del Rey said. “But he has made it clear that he thinks you’re responsible for his daughter’s death. It’s really just a precaution at this point.”

Great. So the father is as crazy as his daughter was.

“Why do you assume he would come after me? It should be Carlotta you’re having this conversation with,” I pointed out.

“Mr. Xavier knows about the affair you two were having, and he believes that was the incident that tipped her over the edge. In his mind that makes you guilty,” the detective said.

“Ah, well, he’ll see soon enough that it’s not the case, won’t he? Do you have a date for Carlotta’s trial yet?” I asked.

“Trial? There isn’t a trial. Your wife is cooperating with the police and our investigation, William. As of this moment, you are still very much a suspect in this case,” the detective said.

I felt my heart thud hard in my chest and my head spun. That bitch was working with the police? She was telling them everything? And from what Detective Del Rey was saying, it sounded very much like they believed her version of events over mine. No wonder they let her out so quickly. She hadn’t been charged at all.

“For goodness’ sake, Detective, this is getting beyond a joke. My wife killed Candy and I told your officer that. I can see why Mr. Xavier is getting frustrated at how you’re dragging this out,” I said.

I hung up the call before the detective could respond. Anger surged through my body. How dare Carlotta throw me under the bus like this? Whatever made me push Candy out that window didn’t change the fact that I had saved Carlotta’s life. And this is how she saw fit to repay me?

Well, we would see about that. I pushed my cellphone back into my pocket and stalked toward the studio to find Carlotta and have this out with her. I reached the studio door and slammed it open, but the room was empty. I was more than a little surprised, but I had seen Carlotta’s purse hanging on the end of the bannister, so I knew she was home. She must be upstairs.

Angrier than ever, I turned and headed for the stairs. Oh, we were going to have this out, all right.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Jamie

Ifelt as though Candy’s diary was burning a hole into my pocket as I made my way back to the precinct. I rushed through to the kitchen and poured myself a large mug of coffee. I couldn’t wait to take a deep dive into the diary, but if Morrie’s thoughts on what it contained where even halfway true, then I knew I would need the caffeine. Hell, I would prefer a large whisky, but I would settle for the coffee.

I took my mug, blowing on the surface of the coffee as I walked down the hallway and went into the incident room. A few officers milled around in there. One of them was adding some notes to the board while the others were trawling back over the case files, going over all the interviews we had done and all the reports that had been submitted, desperate to find something, anything, that we had overlooked the first time. The somber mood in the room told me exactly what they had found. Nothing. There was nothing to find. At least, not yet.

I nodded hello to the officers and made my way to a spare desk at the back of the room. I sat down and pulled Candy’s diary out of my pocket and placed it flat on the desk in front of me. It didn’t look particularly interesting. It was just a bog standard, store-bought diary. But it could hold secrets, secrets that could help us crack this case. God, please let it have something I can use.

I took a big swallow of my coffee and ran my hand over the cover of the diary. I was still shocked that Morrie had held it back from us for so long. Technically, I could make trouble for him, charge him with withholding evidence. I knew I wouldn’t do that, though. The man had been through enough, and while I was surprised he had held back something that could help us solve this crime, I also kind of understood his logic. It was the last part of Candy he had left. Of course he didn’t want to give it up. I empathized with that, and I hadn’t forgotten my promise to him. When this was all over, I would make sure the diary was returned to Morrie if it was the last thing I did.

I finally opened the diary and flicked through it. Now that I had built the diary up into such a big potential lead, I was almost afraid to read it. I was afraid of what secrets I might find contained in its pages. And more than that, I was afraid of what I wouldn’t find.

The diary’s pages were covered with small, cramped handwriting written in purple pen. Some of the pages had little doodles on them. I paused to look at one of the doodles and I couldn’t help but smile at Candy’s childlike drawing of a rabbit. She sure wasn’t an artist.

I started to move back to the beginning of the diary, not sure exactly where to start reading. I figured I would start at the beginning and just skim-read the entries until something caught my eye, but then I noticed that some of the pages had been looked at so many times that the diary automatically tried to open to those pages. Those must be the pages Morrie considered most relevant, the ones he had reread a hundred times since Candy’s death. I decided to start with those pages instead. If nothing else, those pages could give me an insight into why Morrie was so certain William was to blame for Candy’s death, even if he hadn’t actually been the one to push her out the window.

I let the diary fall open on the first overused page. I took a deep breath and then I began to read.

I met him for the first time today. I was so nervous. He’s one hell of an architect, someone I look up to greatly. And the best part about it? He’s hot. I mean, I get that he’s a lot older than me, but there’s just something about him, you know? Like he has this magnetism, this confidence about him. I don’t know exactly what it is. All I know is that from the moment I first saw him, I was smitten.

The first time he smiled at me, I felt butterflies in my stomach. The first time he said my name, I felt my heart skip a beat. And maybe I’m wrong—surely, I’m wrong. Someone like him could never like someone like me, but I kind of felt like the attraction went both ways.

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