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No magic. A touch of death that made me pause, but mostly, he was simply an average thirty-something man in an expensive suit.
Even so, his family seemed rife with hatred. I met the man’s gaze and asked, “Are you a member of SAFARI? Because if you are, I have nothing to say to you."
“No. That was my father’s particular brand of hatred in his later years.” The younger Mr. Chaddock extended a hand to Eli. “I do apologize for . . . Alice.”
“Alice?” I echoed.
Eli shook young Mr. Chaddock’s hand in silence.
“My father’s most recent bride.” He inclined his chin toward the doorway where the widow stood watching us. “We went to the same school, so calling her ‘stepmother’ would be awkward.”
“Tres.” Mrs. Chaddock’s demeanor shifted noticeably. She sounded positively kind as she said, “I wasn’t aware that you were here.”
“It is my house, Alice.”
“Of course. And it’s myhome,” she added.
“According to the will,” Tres said mildly, “it will only remain so as long as you are not a burden on his children. Do you suppose the court would consider murdering my father a burden on us?”
“He would not want to be a monster.” The widow’s pretty face darkened. “Someone injected him with that poison and—”
“I didn’t do it, Alice. None of us did. We’ve gone over this. I want to know who did it, too, but you had him murdered—”
I raised my hands. “Whoa. Halt.Injected? Murdered?”
The man, Tres, rubbed his face as if he could wipe away his frustration. It was obvious that he was short on sleep.
“There was an injection site. The mortician who prepared the, err, body asked about it. I intended to hire a physician’s team, as I wanted my father to be able to become sentient enough to tell us if he was freely dosed or if his death was a result of poison.” Tres glanced at the widow. “And if he knew who did it.”
“Don’t you look at me that way!” The widow’s anger revealed a thick rural accent. “I took good care of my husband. Day and night.Everyneed. And I would’ve kept doing so until his natural death.”
Tres spoke over her, saying, “Dad was generous to a fault with every single one of his six wives. Housing, jewelry, money.” Tres shook his head, and then he looked at me. “My father was a good man, Ms. Crowe and . . . what was your name?”
“Eli.”
“Right. Eli.” Tres smiled at him. “My father was a true romantic. He wanted to believe in love, and he married a lot of women over the years in search of what he had with my mother.”
“Who hasn’t made foolish choices for love?” Eli glanced at me, even though I made a point not to notice it.
Tres continued, “The widow—whichever one was the current one—was well provided for in the event of my father’s death. Far more so than during the terms of the prenup.”
The current widow turned on her kitten-heeled foot and walked away like a petulant child. “I did not kill him.”
“Which time?” Tres asked. “With the injection or”— he gestured at me—"by hiring a killer?”
I wilted a little. Technically, Iwasa killer. It was, quite literally, how I paid my bills. That didn’t mean I liked the implications of the word in this case.
No one spoke for a moment. The widow didn’t defend herself, and neither did I. There was little I could say, and it was obvious that they had very different opinions on how to deal with thedraugrissue.
Finally, Tres asked, “Would you join me in my office, Miss Crowe? Eli?”
After exchanging a look, Eli and I walked into the small, elegant room. Hard wood floors. A heavy wooden desk. A surprisingly comfortable brocade settee. Eli gestured to it, and I sat on the edge. He stood at my side like a guard.
The widow Chaddock attempted to follow us into the room, but Tres stopped her at the door. “I’m sure you understand that this is a private meeting, Allie. After all, you’ve met with Miss Crowe without me. It’s only fair.”
He shut and locked the door, leaving an angry Alice Chaddock hammering on the door for several moments. Once she stopped, Tres sighed and looked at the door. “We each take shifts with the wives. We have since my mother passed on unexpectedly.”
“How many—”
