the dead girl by Debra Webb

Author:Debra Webb [Webb, Debra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pink House Press
Published: 2018-10-03T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Troy Duval’s home sat at the end of the road that ran parallel to Laney’s. A jaunt through the woods across the road from her house would bring her into his backyard, which is how his beagle ended up at her house. His home, a log cabin that was more of a mansion than a cabin, bumped against the woods with the larger portion of his property spreading out in front of his house.

She turned into the driveway, rolled up to the keypad and entered the temporary code Duval had given her. The massive iron gates opened, allowing her to roll forward. The driveway was a long one, winding down and through the vineyard. Closer to the house what appeared to be a vegetable garden was on the right while a parking area waited on the left. The fifteen-year-old SUV registered to Duval was apparently in the garage.

Laney climbed out of her car and walked to the front porch. The wind was up a little but the sun was warm. She climbed the steps, still mulling over the best starting place for the interview. She knocked on the door and listened. No sound inside. She knocked again.

“Let yourself in.”

The words were muffled but loud enough to hear. She opened the door and leaned in. “Mr. Duval?”

“In the great room by the fire.”

Laney closed the door behind her and followed the direction of his voice. The entry hall opened into an enormous great room. As he’d said, he sat in a chair in front of the fire. The stone fireplace was wide and soared to the roofline of the cathedral style ceiling.

“Please join me, Deputy Holt.” He gestured to the other chair facing the fireplace. “I took the liberty of preparing tea, if you’re interested.”

A ceramic pot, sugar bowl and tiny creamer pitcher, along with two mugs waited on the tray he’d placed on the table between the two chairs.

“Tea would be nice.”

She sat down in the large chair. Everything about the home was oversized. But then, Duval was a tall man. Though he was thin and looked frail now, she’d looked up photos of him as a younger man. He had been quite tall, broad shouldered and well muscled. This was a mere shell of the man he once was. She suspected a serious medical condition but couldn’t be sure.

“I have Earl Grey and Vanilla Chai.”

Quite a contrast in flavors. “I’ll take the Chai. Thank you.”

He placed a bag in one of the mugs and poured the steaming water. “This was Sylvia’s favorite tea. I kept it for her. Sugar or cream?”

“Both please.” When he’d passed her the mug she thanked him and he took his seat. The effort he’d expended visibly taking the wind out of his sails.

“I cannot tell you how devastated I am by Sylvia’s death.” He exhaled a breath, laden with the same heavy sadness Laney saw in his eyes. “She was a dear friend.”

“I didn’t know her personally,” Laney felt compelled to tell him. “But everyone I’ve spoken to adored her.

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