Page 105 of The Last Girl

42

Fanning Residence

Lincoln Avenue, 5:30 p.m.

As Vera and Bent approached the door to the Fanning home, four other deputies had surrounded the property, ensuring no one left before the sheriff was finished.

Trenton Fanning opened the door before they rang the bell. “Sheriff.” He looked to Vera. “Ms. Boyett.”

“We need to speak with Mrs. Fanning,” Bent said.

“Come on in. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Vera glanced at Bent. They had been waiting for them? Then again, her husband was on the county council. He likely had a contact in the sheriff’s department.

“Geneva is in the parlor. This way.”

Trenton led the way into the room on the left. His wife, dressed to the nines and makeup just so, sat on the elegant sofa. Bent removed his hat and, like Vera, waited for the show to begin.

“It was an accident.”

Vera wanted to hold up a hand and ask what kind of charade this was, but she figured it might be best to let the woman talk.

“Ma’am,” Bent interrupted.

Vera wanted to punch him, but she got it. He had to do this right.

“It might be best if you called your attorney for this,” he suggested.

Vera barely resisted rolling her eyes.

“I do not want my attorney,” she announced. “I waive my rights. Now listen, I don’t want to have to say this twice.”

Her husband stood behind her. Vera wondered if he was already planning his new life with the lady from his accounting firm.

“I rushed over to the house after Jackie called. She was upstairs, putting the furniture back in place in the nursery. She told me what she’d done.” She glanced at Vera. “She almost killed poor Luna.”

Vera almost gagged at her fake sympathy.

“I don’t want to think what would have happened to the baby.” She drew in a big breath. “Anyway, I was telling her how awful what she’d done was. We finished up in the nursery and were walking toward the stairs when she lit into me like she was possessed by a demon.” She batted her fake eyelashes. “Why, Sheriff, I had to defend myself. We struggled, and I was swatting and kicking at her.” She gave Vera the side-eye. “I was wearing my favorite boots. You’ll find them in my closet. Anyway, the next thing I knew she was flying down the stairs, and I barely—I mean barely—kept from falling myself.” She let go of another breath. “She died instantly. There was nothing I could do. I suppose I was in shock, because all I could think to do was rush over and tell Leonard.”

Vera kept her mouth shut when what she wanted to do was say,Well that was some story. When are we going to hear the truth?But at least this removed any doubt whatsoever from Luna. Vera would take it.

“Ma’am, you understand there will have to be an official investigation, and if Mrs. Andrews’s death is ruled a homicide, you’ll be charged with manslaughter, maybe even murder.”

Her lips trembled, and one eye twitched. “I do.”

“All right then,” Bent said. “I’ll need you to go to the station with Deputy Hastings and write up your statement, and we’ll go from there.”

Vera felt almost let down. She’d anticipated a big showdown, and instead they got a prettied-up confession. Well, at least it was over. The Boyett sisters could breathe easy again ... at least for a little while.There were no other secrets that Vera was aware of. And the homicide case was mostly done. She and Bent were due a break.

Benton Ranch

Old Molino Road, 9:00 p.m.

Vera ended the call. She released a sigh and reached for her wineglass.

“Everything okay with Luna?”