“Give me a minute.” Finally, Riley pulled herself up and splashed cold water on her face.
“The sheriff said he had some questions for me,” Riley said. “But I don’t know anything. I don’t know what Wendell was doing at the marina. He was supposed to meet us at the ferry yesterday.”
“Ed doesn’t want you to talk to the sheriff just yet,” Parrish said.
“I already have.”
“Well, don’t say anything else to him. Look. Your husband is dead. We don’t know how, or why, or anything. Maybe there was an accident. We don’t know that yet. Now, it’s been years since I practiced criminal law, but I can tell you, if this is not an accident, the first person they’re going to look at is Wendell’s wife.”
Riley stared. “Are you saying they think somebody did this to him? It might not be an accident? That somebody killed Wendell? That’s crazy! Who would kill him? And why? And why would the sheriff think I had something to do with it?”
“Because he’s a cop. That’s how their minds work. And, face it, once he starts asking questions, he’s probably going to find out that you guys were about to get a divorce. And then there’s this whole foreclosure thing.”
Riley sat down abruptly on the commode. “Oh God. I’d forgotten about that.”
“He hasn’t,” Parrish said. “We need to get you a lawyer.”
“I don’t want a lawyer,” Riley said. “I didn’t do anything. You know that. Ed knows it.”
“Of course we do. You wouldn’t hurt a fly. This is just for your own protection.”
“No.” Riley shook her head vehemently. “I want to talk to the sheriff. I’ll answer his questions. I want him to know I don’t have anything to hide. I want to know what happened. I have to be able to tell Maggy what happened.”
“Not a good idea,” Parrish warned.
“I don’t care. I appreciate Ed’s concern, and yours, but I have to do this.”
“All right,” Parrish said, sighing. “Where’s Maggy? You haven’t told her yet, right?”
“Billy’s upstairs with her. She’s still sleeping and, with any luck, it’ll be another hour or so until she wakes up.”
“Your mama doesn’t know yet?”
“God, no.”
* * *
She sat at the table with Ed and the sheriff, who was now sipping coffee from one of Evelyn Nolan’s delicate pink-flowered coffee cups.
“Wendell was supposed to meet me yesterday at the ferry in Southpoint, before the last boat of the day. But he never made it. I kept calling and texting … I guess now we know why he didn’t answer.”
“Why didn’t your husband drive down from Raleigh with you?”
“He had meetings. Most of the time, we do drive down separately, because my daughter and I stay on the island all summer, and Wendell is a weekender.”
“Even for the long Memorial Day holiday?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of meetings? Do you know who your husband was going to be with?”
“No.” Riley bit her lip. “I didn’t keep up with Wendell’s work stuff. And I guess I should just go ahead and tell you…”
“Riley?” Ed gave her a warning shake of his head, anticipating what she would say next.
She plunged ahead anyway. “Wendell and I had been pretty much living separate lives these past few months. He hadn’t actually moved out yet, but that was our next step.”
“You’re getting divorced?”
Riley picked at the cuticle on her thumb. “We were going to tell Maggy, our daughter, this weekend.”
“When was the last time you talked to Mr. Griggs?”
“You mean, in person?” She thought back. Lately, the bulk of her communication with Wendell had consisted of e-mails and texts.
“Maybe Wednesday?” She frowned. “I’d have to look at my phone.”
“What did you talk about? Did the subject of the divorce come up?”
“Not really. I guess we were both avoiding the subject. I know I told him I’d booked his trip on the ferry online. We just talked about the usual stuff. Dinner plans, like that.”
The sheriff jotted something down in his notebook. “I’m sorry to have to ask these questions.”
“Then don’t,” Ed put in. “For God’s sake! She just learned about Wendell’s death. She’s told you what she knows.”
“All right.” The sheriff sighed and closed the cover of his notebook. He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get over to the mainland anyway.”
Riley swallowed hard. “What happens now? I mean, with my husband’s body? I need to make arrangements.”
“For now, his body has been taken to the morgue at Memorial Hospital in Southpoint. As I mentioned, there will be an autopsy. That’s state law. Unfortunately, as you know, this is a holiday, so that could take a few days.”
A holiday. She’d forgotten about that. This was to have been the weekend to start the summer, to start getting used to the reality of divorce. Riley had forgotten. Now, she guessed, she’d start getting used to the idea of being a widow.
The sheriff set his coffee cup carefully in the sink. “Just one more thing, Mrs. Griggs. Were you aware that your husband was having financial difficulties? And that your home here was in foreclosure?”
“No.” Her head was throbbing. “I didn’t know anything. Last night, when we got to the house and saw the sign tacked to the door, that was the first I knew about any of this. I thought it was a mistake.”
She looked up at the sheriff and realized she was crying. “A horrible mistake.”
11
“Mom?” Maggy’s shrill voice rang out from the hallway. Riley heard her bare feet slapping against the wooden stair treads. A moment later, she stood in the kitchen doorway, dressed in an oversize T-shirt, her hair disheveled. When she saw Ed Godchaux seated at the table, she tugged self-consciously at the hem of the shirt, trying to pull it down over her bare, tanned thighs.
“Mom, there’s a cop car in the driveway. What’s going on? Why are Ed and Parrish here? And the cops? Has something happened?”
Riley jumped to her feet and gathered her daughter into her arms. She stroked Maggy’s hair, wondering how she would find the words to break this child’s heart.
And Maggy was her heart. Motherhood had been a hard-fought battle for Riley. She’d suffered through two first-trimester miscarriages before finally managing to carry this baby full-term.
Once she and Wendell took Maggy home from the hospital, her anxieties about motherhood hadn’t ended. Her newborn had learned to sleep through the night months before Riley was able to do so without sneaking into the nursery and checking on the infant every few hours.
Riley had been driven in the early years of her journalism career. After Maggy’s birth, she’d eventually funneled all that energy into motherhood, taking an extended leave from the television station. She’d only briefly, reluctantly, returned to her evening anchor position after the station’s assistant manager, a sympathetic older mother herself, had pointed out that many children not only survived, but thrived in the care of a nanny or a good preschool.