Free Rosemary's Gravy by Melissa F. Miller Page A

was deficient in the sympathy category because he didn’t try to soften his response. “It looks like Mr. Patrick has a pretty compelling motive for murder. Mr. Carlson reached out to Detective Sullivan a few hours ago with some information that he’d held back from his original interview because he didn’t want us to get the wrong idea about Mrs. Patrick. After giving it some thought, he reconsidered. It’s a good thing because his information is going to nail Roland Patrick’s hide to the wall.”
    “What’s this mystery information?” I asked as I reached for Felix’s hand. Don’t get me wrong, I was ecstatic to know that I wasn’t going to be charged, but I also know firsthand what it feels like to learn that a parent has feet of clay. I squeezed his hand tightly.
    Detective Drummond raised an eyebrow at the gesture but continued. “In her divorce preparations, Mrs. Patrick hired an attorney, a forensic accountant, and a private investigator to see if she could come up any grounds to nullify the prenuptial agreement that Mr. Patrick made her sign. The private investigator found out about Mr. Patrick’s homosexual affair with Mr. Santos. Mrs. Patrick apparently decided to blackmail her husband with the evidence of his relationship and force him to agree to spousal support notwithstanding the existence of the prenup.”
    I felt sick. Amber really had been a horrible wench.
    I sneaked a look at Felix and tried to guess what he was feeling, but his face was set in stone. “That’s still not proof he killed her.”
    “No, it’s not,” Detective Drummond agreed. “But the forensic reports came back.”
    “And?” I interjected. I couldn’t help it.
    “There was no evidence of cashews present in Amber’s stomach contents,” he said. He waited for that to sink in. “But the lab geeks did find peanut oil.”
    “Peanut oil?” I repeated. “I don’t keep peanut oil in the kitchen. I couldn’t use it in any recipes. And Amber would have freaked out if she’d found in her house.”
    The police officer nodded. “Right. We didn’t find any peanut oil in the kitchen. But testing showed the oil had been added to a partially consumed bottle of 2007 merlot found near Mrs. Patrick’s body in her dressing room.”
    The image of Amber tottering up the stairs with her hand wrapped around an open bottle of red wine flashed in my mind.
    “Someone put it in her wine?” Felix asked.
    “Yes, and in light of the new information, we like your father for it.”
    Felix shook his head in disbelief. “I want to talk to him.”
    Detective Drummond twisted his lips into a knot as he considered his response.
    “Hang on. How’d you know they were here—Pat and Santos?”
    He turned to me with an unreadable expression. “We didn’t. In light of Mr. Carlson’s new information, Detective Sullivan authorized me to do what you had wanted all along. I’ve been following Santos. When we arrived and saw Mr. Patrick’s Mercedes in the driveway, my partner called for backup. Good thing we’re virtually around the corner from the station.”
    “Oh,” I managed.
    He turned back to Felix. “Once Detective Sullivan radios me that he’s in custody, I’ll give you five minutes.”
    He didn’t wait for thanks or a response of any kind. He just turned on his heel and jogged over to the uniformed officer waiting for him by the kitchen door.
    I swallowed hard and waited for Felix to say something. He didn’t speak at first. I watched as he clenched and unclenched the muscles in his jaw, making his cheek tighten and relax, tighten and relax. My stomach was jumpy and unsettled as I tried to think of something appropriately supportive and understanding to say to a guy who just found out his father was about to be arrested for murdering his stepmother so his affair with another man wouldn’t be uncovered. I suspected Hallmark probably had a card for this occasion, but I was coming up empty.
    “Um …” I began, ever