“I’m afraid not,” Phyllis said. “Do you know where this Wendy lives? Maybe that’s where Michael is now.”
“I’ve got no idea, and quite frankly, I don’t care,” Cynthia said, although behind the angry words, Nova could hear a wobble in her voice. “Do you have any idea the mess he’s left me to deal with? I came home to find Eve’s body, and then there’s been police and forensics buzzing all over the place. And now I have a funeral to organize on top of all the legal business around this house and sorting Eve’s stuff. And he hasn’t even bothered to send me a text!”
“It sounds like you’ve got a lot on, so we should get out of your hair,” Nova said. “Thanks for your time, and I’m sorry again about your mother-in-law.”
“Yes, if there’s anything we can do to help, please just ask,” Arthur said. “You can find us at the St. Tredock Community Center.”
“And you’re absolutely sure you don’t know where Michael is?” Phyllis added, but Cynthia had already shut the door.
Chapter Eight
Phyllis
Phyllis climbed into the backseat of the car, heaving Craddock in beside her. She heard Nova and Arthur get into the front seats but paid them little attention as her mind spun with everything she’d just learned. So, Michael wasn’t dead, but hewasnow a murder suspect, which explained so many things. For one, the red stain on his shirt that Phyllis had thought was paint had clearly been his mother’s blood. And the way he’d ranted about Kya’s mum in the Crawdads book, even calling her a monster, now made sense too. God knows what Eve Watkins had done to make her son hate her so much, but the man clearly had major mummy issues. And now they had the explanation for why he’d stolen the community center money too: to fund his escape. But for every answer, there were still many questions hanging in the air, and lots of new avenues to explore. Phyllis couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the days ahead.
“Bloomin’ heck, I wasn’t expecting any of that,” Arthur said as he closed the front passenger door. “And to think he was sitting with us at book club, chatting aboutWhere the Crawdads Sing, while his own mother lay murdered at home.”
“It would explain why he was so jumpy in the meeting,” Nova said.
“Imagine killing your own mother in cold daylight and then eloping with your mistress?” Arthur said. “It reminds me of this book Esi loves,A Rogue and a—”
“For goodness’ sake, tell me you two didn’t fall for that nonsense?”
Nova and Arthur both turned to look at her, and Phyllis felt a thrill of satisfaction. Finally, people were paying attention when she spoke.
“What do you mean?” Nova said.
“I mean, not a word of that was true. The woman was lying from the moment she opened the door.”
“So, you don’t think Michael killed his mother?” Arthur asked.
“No, I think that bit was true. But she definitely wasn’t giving us the whole picture.”
“She seemed genuine enough to me,” Nova said.
“The problem with you two is you’re far too trusting,” Phyllis said, leaning back in the car seat. “Miss Marple knew—”
“Not Miss bloody Marple again,” Arthur muttered.
“Miss Marpleknew never to give anyone the benefit of the doubt,” Phyllis continued. “She always believed the worst in people, and she was always proven right.”
“Phyllis, she was a fictional character,” Nova said. “Whereas Cynthia Watkins is a real woman, dealing with a murdered mother-in-law and a runaway husband.”
“Didn’t you see the way her hands fidgeted while she spoke? And the way she couldn’t look us in the eye? No, that whole thing was a story, as fictional as anything Agatha Christie wrote, only considerably less well-constructed.”
“So, what doyouthink happened, then?”
“Well, that’s interesting indeed.” Phyllis rubbed her chin and then stopped in case it was too much. “Let’s take a step back for amoment and ask ourselves what Michael’s motive was for killing his mother. In murder mysteries, there are usually five main motives for committing murder: jealousy, revenge, anger, fear, and the most common, greed.”
“Perhaps Michael’s mum found out about his affair and threatened to tell Cynthia about it?” Arthur said. “So, Michael killed her out of fear, to keep her quiet.”
“That theory might workifthere was another woman involved, which there isn’t. That’s another of Cynthia’s lies: a cover story to distract us from the truth.”
“What truth, Phyllis?” Nova wasn’t even bothering to hide the skepticism in her voice, but Phyllis didn’t care. She was used to people dismissing what she said; after all, even her own mother had never listened to her.
“Cynthia wants us—and the police—to believe that Michael’s motive was anger; that he killed his mother after an argument and then fled with his lover, while Cynthia was safely tucked away at her sister’s, oblivious to what was going on. But did you see the way her eyes shifted to the right when she told us she’d been staying at her sister’s? That was a lie, a fake alibi, just like Michael came to our book club so that he could have an alibi for the time of the murder as well.”
“So, you think Cynthia was involved in the murder too?” Arthur said.
