room, making it to the hall bathroom just in time. She knelt by the commode, retching again and again, until she thought her ribs would shatter. Finally, she laid down in a fetal position on the black-and-white-penny-tile floor, resting her cheek against the cool surface.
There was a light knock on the door, which she hadn’t had time to close. Parrish stepped inside. She took one of Evelyn’s starched and monogrammed linen fingertip towels from a delicate silver tray on the marble vanity, ran it under the faucet, and sat down beside her best friend, pressing it to the back of her neck, and then her temples, and finally, dabbing it at Riley’s lips.
“They’re saying Wendell’s dead,” Riley said finally.
“I know, shug,” Parrish said sadly, putting an arm around her shoulder. “Billy called. Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” Riley whispered. “I don’t know what to do, Parrish.”
“Ed does,” Parrish said. “He’s out in the kitchen with the sheriff. He’ll take care of stuff.”
“The sheriff said Wendell had a … a wound on his head.”
“That’s what he told Ed, too. Do you feel like standing up yet?”
“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.”