“Yes, stop it,” Eve told him.
“You two are finished at my place!” He pointed at Eve and me. “You’re done. Get your belongings out of my house and bill me for the work you’ve completed. I can’t believe you’re so hard on your mother.”
“It’s because we love her,” I said, but Mom only frowned at us.
A number of people who worked there and nearby residents all stared at us. Eve and I turned around and left the building.
* * * *
“One positive that might come out of what we’ve just been through,” Eve said, half an hour later while we sat in a rustic restaurant with our soft drinks. We had ridden around awhile, not saying a thing, trying to let our blood pressures go down before attempting anything else. “Of all those people who heard us, maybe somebody will come up with information we can use to stop her from doing it.”
Not wanting to face what might soon lay ahead with our parent, we ordered the boiled seafood trio: shrimp, crayfish, and crabs. The spicy aroma of seasoning arrived before our large round plastic trays. The warm pink shrimp were plump and easy to peel with just enough spice. Crayfish took a pinch longer to get out of their harder red shells, and the crabs took longest, but were seasoned just right. Using the dip, I found all the food perfect.
By the time we finished with our meal, we were stuffed but in better moods. It would be difficult to tackle food like we had just enjoyed and not find yourself in a lifted state of mind. Things would work out with our mother, we’d agreed. She was much too reasonable to rush into something as serious as marriage.
We would return to speak with her during a quieter time, possibly after she took a long afternoon nap, we discussed while I drove up to Edward’s house.
“Darn, I had hoped he wouldn’t be here when we came,” Eve said when we pulled up behind his car in the long concrete driveway edged with bricks that matched his house.
“Should we come back tomorrow instead?” I tapped the brakes and then reconsidered. “No, let’s get it over with now.”
“Maybe we can get him to change his mind about rushing to get those two together,” Eve said. “At least we should be able to learn more about his uncle from him.”
We strode to the front door and rang the doorbell.
Eve tapped her foot while I watched the windows to see if he would come through the great room. I hoped his face no longer wore the anger it bore the last time we saw him, two or more hours ago.
“Maybe he’s making bridal arrangements in there,” Eve said.
That thought added to my ire. She rang the bell, and we waited more long minutes.
“He might be in the backyard,” she said once we’d knocked and waited some more.
“Or he could have left his car here and gone off with someone else.” I knocked hard and was ready to go for the key under the plant when Eve tried the door. It opened.
“Hi, Edward, we’re here,” she called out. “It’s Eve and Sunny. We’re just here to get our equipment like you told us to do. We rang the doorbell and knocked.”
I also called out his name and announced ours. Possibly he was upstairs. We didn’t come across him when we entered and didn’t see or hear him when we walked up the stairs and made our way to the large main bedroom, a beautiful space that would look even more fabulous once he furnished it. He had allowed us to store the few tools we often used there for measurements in one of the closets. We headed for the closet when I noticed water on the newly restored oak floor.
I pointed at it and followed the slim trail to the adjourning master bathroom. We had designed this masterpiece with large oval-topped windows that revealed beautiful landscaping outside and a lavatory topped with black marble. A delicate chandelier glittered above a freestanding tub.
The Christmas carol I sang let my twin know I had found what caused the water spill. Edward was fully clothed and might have floated out of his bathtub that overflowed onto the floor. He lay face up with unseeing eyes open, so even if he was spread eagle, he obviously wasn’t enjoying a relaxing soak.
Chapter 3
My misery with blurting carols when faced with a fearful situation stemmed from when I was eight and alone outside our house with our sixteen-year-old sister, Crystal. She had been talking to her friend on the phone when a drive-by shooter took her life. Shaking and terrified, I had no idea what to do, but wouldn’t leave my sister. Her friend on the phone told me she’d send help, and I sat beside Crystal, not letting myself cry. I knew if I did, I would never ever stop. Anguish filling my throat with sound needed to come out. My petrified mind let me voice a soothing sound, a carol. Ever since then, I had struggled to end that horrible trait.
Added to my being dyslexic, I needed to work harder than most people to achieve results and improve my self-esteem.
I tried to tone down my song while I moved away from Edward’s body. Eve was calling 911 and giving information. Possibly the person who killed him was still here, I realized, reining in the sound leaving my throat.
When she hung up, I placed my finger across my lips to signal for her to keep quiet. She lifted her eyebrows, and I pointed at the closet door and then outside the windows. Tall, thick bushes stood around the lawn. It looked like branches moving from where two of them met.
Eve tugged on my arm. Our next movements again reminded me of childhood when she and I took dance lessons and practiced crossing the floor on our toes. This time, we made our moves quieter as we rushed through rooms to get out the front door.
The cool air felt good on my skin once we’d run out without getting attacked. Edward’s car was still in his driveway with my truck behind it. My instinct was to jump in my pickup and rush us away. Then we would be safe.
Screaming sirens that neared made the hair on my arms raise but assured me we didn’t need to leave.
In no time, the driveway and lawn were filled with vehicles of every sort. Police cars and an ambulance carried people who scrambled out of them while Eve and I waited, giving information to those who asked questions. The first young deputy had a full forehead of pimples. Afterward, an unmarked sedan pulled in on the lawn. Its stocky driver walked to us. I had never seen a man roll his eyes. This day, though, Detective Wilet speared us with his dark-eyed gaze and then flipped it toward the sky. Yes, us again.
“Be in my office this afternoon,” he ordered, and we nodded. With nothing more, he stomped into the house through the open doorway.
We slipped into my truck. “He knows the deputies questioned us already,” Eve said while I backed up and maneuvered us onto the highway.
“My God, what do you think happened?” I said, driving away. “Edward couldn’t have just fallen in, could he?”
She stared at me. “No. I believe he was murdered.”
My breath caught. She’d voiced my belief. “But who could have done that? And why?”
She gave my arm a reassuring squeeze. “We don’t know much about his life other than hearing him argue with the man who’d been there.”
“And Edward was an attorney and Mom’s wedding planner.” Renewed thought of her marrying made my stomach pull tight.
“And Mom’s beau was his uncle,” Eve reminded.
That made everything worse. I focused ahead and steered toward a place of safety for us, my home or my twin’s. With what just happened, or what we’d just discovered, we couldn’t chance going out in public yet. Our conversation would be about a dead man, which was not something we would not want anyone else to hear. Even if we tried, I was certain we couldn’t just talk about everyday events. Finding a dead body was anything but ordinary.
I drove to my house. We remained silent until we were