Can You Keep A Secret? | COMPLETE

Chapter Four

Mark Whitman spooned some sugar into the drink pitcher, stirring the liquid around so the sweet powdery substance dissolved.

"What do you think about that Anastasia woman?" his wife asked as she pulled a bowl from a cabinet.

"She seems an interesting character," Mark replied. "Why?"

Alexa shrugged. "I don't know." She made her way to the fridge and searched for ingredients. "I was out for a walk earlier and saw her at Mr. Preacher's," she explained. "She was talking to him––I don't know what about. Then she went around the block and talked to three other men. I don't know why."

"Curious," was all Mark could say, trying to find out what the Russian could have been doing.

"There's something going on," Alexa said, turning away from what she was baking. "Something big. I can feel it. I just don't know what..."

"Maybe Evangeline knows?" Mark suggested, pushing the lemonade pitcher away from himself on the counter. "She's coming for dinner tomorrow night, right?"

"She never said she wasn't," his wife replied.

He nodded his head. "We can ask her if she knows anything then. I don't think we can count of Anastasia showing up."

She sighed and nodded. "I know. I was just hoping she'd join us at least once. She needs more friends than just that detective."

***

Evangeline arrived home a few minutes later than she and Anastasia had agreed upon. She had not seen the other woman outside, but she had a key so she was probably already inside.

The detective entered her house and sure enough the red-head was seated on the couch, fuzzy-socked feet propped up on the coffee table, and a glass of wine was in hand.

"So none of them was with Richard Preacher the night of the murder," Anastasia started, then took a sip of the wine. "He has motive to frame you. He hates you after you got his husband thrown away."

"Okay, but he shouldn't," Evangeline replied. "Ian was running a drug ring and could have gotten him seriously hurt."

"Good luck telling Richard that."

Evangeline sighed and took off her shoes and coat and made her way over to the couch, plopping down beside her best friend, taking the wineglass from her and taking a sip.

"Did you at least find anything else out?" she asked returning the wine and resting her head on the redhead's shoulder.

"Not yet, babe," the other woman replied, shaking her head and rubbing her friend's arm. "But I'm still working on it. How's it going on your end?"

"Not so well," Evangeline admitted, sitting back up. "Captain Young wants me to get him the list of everyone associated or has had any association with Rambeau before Monday."

"Do you need help with it?" the other offered.

"No." The brunette shook her head. "I can't show you any more evidence. If I do we'll both be in trouble."

"Fine."

"But thank you for helping me with everything else," the woman added quickly. "You've been a really big help."

"Anytime," Anastasia smiled at her. "Anything you need, I'm here. Just text or call."

"Thanks, Anya."

"Now, let's talk this dinner that's happening tomorrow night," the Russian said, leaning forward to pour herself some more wine.

"I still can't think of anyone who would want to frame me for this," Evangeline said after a moment changing the subject back, sitting back and bringing her feet up to the cushion underneath her.

"You're a cop, remember?" Anastasia reminded. "People hate cops for many reasons. You're a good one, you recognise and try to call out faults in the system, but you're still a cop."

Evangeline sighed. "I honestly just wanted to help people," she said. "I wanted to help people and solve cold cases."

"I know, honey." The redhead reached over and patted her knee. "Let's talk about the dinner instead, okay?"

"Okay."

"Are we actually going to go?" was the Russian's first question.

"Yes," Evangeline said. "We're going to go to be nice. They invited us, so we're going."

"What do you plan on wearing?"

"I don't know," the detective shrugged. "Maybe just some nice pants and a blouse? It's not a formal dinner."

"But Mark said it's a dinner party."

"Which is a blouse event."

Anastasia groaned. "You need to learn to dress up sometimes."

"Are you done?" the woman asked, frowning.

"Yes, sorry."

"Thank you for agreeing to go," the brunette said quickly. "It means a lot. The Whitmans can be a bit... much, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. And you're welcome. I need to get out of my apartment anyway."

She watched as her brunette friend absently brought a hand up to her neck, as if to touch the necklace that wasn't there.

"Can't you get it back from evidence?" Anastasia asked.

Evangeline shook her head. "Not until the investigation is solved."

"Can't you steal it?"

"No, I'd lose it and my job. And I'd get arrested!"

They both went silent after that. Anastasia was thinking hard about something Evangeline could not pinpoint. She never could with the woman.

"I'm gonna go," Anastasia announced suddenly. "I've got some planning to do to help you out more. I'll meet you at the Whitmans' tomorrow."

"You sure? You can stay the night if you want," Evangeline said, standing just as Anastasia did. "You can take the guest room."

"I'm sure," the redhead shook her head. "I have some housework to do too. I'll see you tomorrow!"

And with that, she left, leaving her wineglass on the coffee table and grabbing her shoes by the door.

After staying in the lounge for a little longer, Evangeline headed for the kitchen to make herself a late dinner. When she couldn't find a mug to pour some coffee into, she opened her dishwasher to get a dirty one out she would wash in the sink. But then she saw it. Streaks of dried blood on the inside of the machine. She pulled out the top rack and there, laying with all of her cups and mugs, was a bloodied knife. The drying, browning blood all over the blade. She screamed and stumbled back.

How was it there?

Why was it there?

She ran back to the lounge to grab her phone and called up the station.

"Put me through to Captain Young!" she screamed.

The phone buzzed for a moment before the black man's voice rattled through.

"Captain Young, police," he said.

"Captain, it's Evangeline," the woman said quickly. "I had a– I have a question," she added, quickly thinking of something to say instead of letting him know she had the murder weapon.

"And what would that be, Detective Brear?" he asked with a sigh.

"Did– Did the murder weapon ever get discovered?" she asked.

"No, it didn't," the man replied. "Why?"

"Just writing notes on the case and wanted to double check," she lied quickly. Then she hung up without another word, too nervous.

Her hands were shaking. She ran her trembling fingers through her hair. What was happening?