Big Summer(90)

“Nick didn’t do it,” I said. “He had no reason to kill Drue.”

“If it turns out he’s her half brother, he had five hundred thousand reasons,” McMichaels said. “And unless you were wide awake, with your eyes on him, every minute of the night, you don’t know where he was or what he could have gotten up to.”

“He didn’t kill Drue!”

Detective McMichaels set his hands on the desk. “You don’t know what he did. You don’t know what he knew. And if I find out that you had anything to do with this…” Moving with slow deliberation, he came around the desk to stand in front of me, so close that his lapels brushed my chest, and when he spoke, his voice was almost a growl. “I promise, you will not like the consequences.”





Chapter Twenty


As soon as my legs stopped shaking and I felt more or less certain that I wasn’t going to throw up, I went outside into the perfect, sunny, early-summer day. The sky was robin’s-egg blue, the sunshine was warm but not oppressive, and a light breeze stirred the air. On the sidewalk outside, mourners were piling into cars, or walking east, toward the subway stop two blocks away. Darshi and Nick were standing at the base of the stairs, waiting for me.

“We need to get out of here,” I said, and set off down the street.

“What happened?” asked Darshi as I walked and pawed through my purse, trying to find my sunglasses. “What’d he want?” My hands were shaking so hard that I ended up dropping the bag. Nick picked it up and handed it to me. He was wearing black jeans with a heathery tweed sports coat, a button-down shirt, and a red and gold tie, and he had a black backpack and a laptop case at his feet. I licked my dry lips and tried to get my thoughts in order.

“Drue was poisoned,” I began. “That’s how she died. Someone put cyanide in her food or drink. That’s the first thing.”

“What’s next?” asked Darshi.

“They let Emma Vincent go,” I said. “She had an alibi. So now they’re back looking for suspects.” I gulped, and went on. “Drue inherited half of her trust fund when she married Stuart. Ten million dollars. She’d already given seven million of it away. Some to Stuart, most of it to her dad.”

“So are they suspects now?” Darshi asked.

I shook my head. “McMichaels said they wouldn’t want to kill Drue. That she was the goose laying the golden eggs.”

“So who would?” asked Nick.

I turned to him, knowing that I looked as miserable as I felt. “She left me half a million dollars. And she left you half a million dollars, too.”

“Me?” Nick asked. His voice cracked. “Why? She didn’t even know me!”

“She left it to anyone who could take a DNA test and prove that Robert Cavanaugh was their father. Which I’m assuming is you.” I licked my lips. “I guess she knew that there were other children, and she wanted to share the wealth.” I finally remembered that my sunglasses were in my pocket. I pulled them out and fumbled them onto my face. “And I saw the guy from outside her room, the night she died. The one who ran away. He was there, but he took off when he saw me.”

Darshi put a hand on my wrist and held me still. “Daphne. Listen. It’s great about the money. I’m happy for you. But maybe we all need to step back from this.”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, before shaking my head. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Drue’s dead. And whatever you thought about her, she deserves justice.” I breathed slowly. “Also, if the cops can’t figure out who actually did it, maybe they’ll try to make a circumstantial case. Prove it was someone with motive and opportunity. Like me.”

Nick’s voice was bleak. “Or me, I guess.”

Darshi turned to look at him. “Why are you here?”

“Part of it was I wanted to get a look at my father. But Drue was my… my half sister,” he said, stammering over the word “sister.” “I wanted to be here for the service.” He shifted his weight from left to right and back again. “I want Drue to have justice. I want to help. I found an Airbnb.” He pulled out his phone and squinted at its screen. “It’s in, um, Bushwick? In Brooklyn. I hope that’s not too far.”

“Oh, boy,” Darshi muttered.

“It’s not near,” I said. “But, on the plus side, it’s very trendy.”

Nick shrugged. “Hopefully, I won’t be there too much. Or for very long.”

“Let’s go to my parents’ place,” I said, thinking that I wanted to be around my mom and dad. I needed my father’s steadiness, his calm voice and reassuring presence. Even if my mom was flipping out—maybe especially if she was flipping out—she’d be glad to see me. And there would be snacks. “We can set up a war room there.”

Darshi checked the time on her phone. “Give me a few hours. I need to finish some stuff on campus. I can meet you there later.”

“I’ll come with you,” Nick said to me.

“Are you okay walking? It’s about two miles.” I wasn’t dressed for walking, but I needed to move, needed to burn off some of the anxiety that came from learning that I was both newly wealthy and a murder suspect.