only one detective was simply that the mayor and city council members saw no need to waste the taxpayers’ money. Paradise Valley hadn’t had a murder in more than twenty years—until Evan was killed.
Focus, Emily ordered herself, remembering why she was there. Her mission was to find out who this woman, Delia, was.
Sitting down at Evan’s old metal desk, she rummaged through it, searching for anything that had this woman’s name on it. She came up with nothing. Then she went through all the folders in the file cabinet. Again nothing. She checked the calendar in his computer and even did a total search of the hard-drive for the name—still nothing.
Her eyes moistened and her throat tightened a little when she noticed the framed photo on the desk. It was a picture of her and Evan, smiling and snuggling in happier days. Picking it up, she lovingly traced his face with her finger. Her heart missed his sandy brown hair and piercing blue eyes.
Emily spied the cross-directory phone book on top of the file cabinet and gently set the picture down. She grabbed the directory and flipped it open on the desk. Digging around in her purse, she found the slip of paper that showed Delia’s phone number. She laid it down next to the book.
Scanning the pages as she ran her index finger across them, she located the number in the directory and read the name Delia McCall. The name sounded vaguely familiar. “Delia McCall,” she muttered several times, but she couldn’t place it. So she decided to be brave and dial the number. She needed to know this woman’s connection to her husband.
The phone on the desk had been disconnected long ago, so she made the call from her cell phone.
“Hello.” The woman’s voice was low and sultry.
“Is this Delia?” Emily asked nervously
“It is. Who is this?”
“This is Delia McCall?” Emily asked again, her heart thudding in her chest.
“Yes. Who is this?” the woman insisted.
“This is Emily Parker, Evan Parker’s wife.”
“Oh, Emily, yes, Evan had mentioned you.” Delia’s voice changed to a lighter tone.
“Evan mentioned me?” Emily was stunned by her comment. She wondered why her husband would be talking to this woman about her.
“Yes, several times.”
“I have to know, Ms. McCall, what was your relationship with my husband?” Emily held her breath for the answer.
Delia stuttered and stammered, obviously caught off guard. Was she hiding something?
“Well?” Emily pressed, irritated by the woman’s evasiveness. If it had simply been a business relationship, why would she not just come out and say it? She decided to ask what she was really wondering. “Were you having an affair with my husband?”
“What? Oh my, no.” Delia laughed. “Is that what you thought?”
“Well...”
“No, Emily. Evan was doing some work for me, but it was supposed to be hush-hush.”
“What kind of work?”
“I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. Can we meet somewhere? I’d be more than happy to answer all of your questions.”
“When?”
“Say, this evening around eight o’clock, at that Moxie Java over on State Street?”
“All right,” Emily reluctantly agreed. She wasn’t sure why this woman was acting so mysteriously, but maybe she could shed some light on what happened to Evan.
Emily clicked off her cell phone and tossed it back in her purse. She decided it would be best to get out of that office as quickly as possible before more memories came back to haunt her.
* * *
Emily drove home and grabbed her mail out of the mailbox before going inside. On top was a letter from the landlord of the office building that housed Evan’s office. Tearing it open, she found a past-due notice stating she needed to pay the back rent plus a sizeable late fee.
Her real estate commissions had been enough to keep her personal bills paid since Evan’s death, but this extra fifteen hundred dollars a month for the office lease was putting an additional burden on her that she was having a hard time paying. With Evan and his income gone, finances had become uncomfortably tight.
Kicking her shoes off, Emily grabbed a diet soda from the refrigerator and moved to the breakfast bar. She set the small stack of mail down and perched on one of the stools. Holding the past-due notice in her hand, she took a long drink of soda and glared at the words stamped in red—PAST DUE.
She missed her husband for a lot of reasons, but right now it was for financial ones. Wondering what she was going to