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Nothing yet on the local news feed.
She dialed Millie.
“I figured you’d be calling,” Millie said. “Owen Duval.”
“You know anything?”
“Just that Metzger hightailed it out of the office around four.”
Nikki eyed the digital clock on the stove. 5:17.
“Why was that?”
“I’m not sure. He got a call on his cell phone. Didn’t come in through the office, but he’s got a source in the police department. I overheard him mention the name. That’s all I know. Oh, wait.” She paused. “Yep, digital’s got it. I just saw it go up on the screen. Looks like next of kin has been notified.”
“Got it,” Nikki said as her own phone pinged with an update on local news. The feed read: Owen Duval found dead in his home. Police on the scene. Possible suicide. “Keep me posted,” she said, and cut the connection. “Damn it all to hell.”
What was she supposed to do?
Wait here for Reed?
Hope that he would give her inside information on her “exclusive”?
“Fat chance,” she muttered just as her phone pinged and a text came in. From her husband:
Don’t hold dinner.
Hung up at the scene.
I’ll call later.
“Swell, Reed,” she said into the phone. “Just swell.”
Another text came in. Again from Reed:
You okay?
“No, by the way, I’m not,” she said aloud but didn’t type the words. “Thanks for asking, but I’m not all that great. Not only am I shut out of this investigation, but you and I, dear husband, are one heartbeat away from inheriting Sylvie Morrisette’s children.” She sent him an emoji, a thumbs-up.
He responded:
Good.
Lock up.
She sent another checkmark emoji.
“You bet,” she muttered. Then to Mikado, who was lying on the ottoman in the family area and staring at her, “Just call me the dutiful little wife. Maybe I should go ‘freshen up’ for my man, have a drink waiting when he gets home, ask him how his day is going? Seduce him while a pot roast is roasting in the oven?”
She heard herself and rolled her eyes as she realized she was mocking her own mother and Charlene’s marriage, which had been far from perfect, but then was there such a thing as perfect wedded bliss? Of course not. And her parents had made it work despite their differences.
She punched out her mother’s number and Charlene picked up on the second ring. “Nicole!” she said with a smile in her voice, and Nikki cringed inside, silently promised she wouldn’t be so distant. “How’re you doing?”
“Fine, Mom. I was just throwing a frisbee in the yard and thought I might bring Mikado out to stretch his legs soon—” Nikki felt even more guilty when she thought of her niece. How long since she’d seen Phee, Lily’s daughter? It had been weeks, if not months, and soon she would be starting school again. She was seven now, had lost several teeth and was growing like a weed. “Not today, Mom, but soon. I promise,” she said, then sat at the table, where the crumpled pages of Sylvie Morrisette’s will and trust agreement spelling out her wishes were scattered. She changed the subject. “So, Mom, can you tell me a little more about the Beaumonts?”
“So this isn’t a social call? You didn’t just want to catch up,” Charlene said, obviously a tad miffed.
“I am working on a story.”
