R oyce woke two hours before his alarm was due to go off. He lay there in the dark, listening for sounds to explain why he’d transitioned from sound asleep to wide-awake as if someone had flipped a switch in his brain. Their bedroom and the house beyond were completely quiet, aside from the soft breathing coming from his husband and roommates. He’d talked a tough game the previous night, but Bones and Dolly had still slept with them. Royce would need to work on effective discipline skills for fatherhood. The pets practically laughed in his face when he laid down the law, and he didn’t want to get the same reaction from a teenager someday.
He closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep, but to no avail. His brain was doing mental jumping jacks, and the rest of him either needed to catch up, or he’d feel out of sync for the rest of the day. If his mind was going to race a mile a minute, he should hit the treadmill and try to catch it. Royce eased from the bed, careful not to wake Sawyer or their pets, and slipped into the bathroom to pee and brush his teeth. A full bladder and foul breath were not things he wanted to take with him on a run. He navigated their dark bedroom to remove underwear, socks, and a pair of shorts from his dresser but didn’t put them on until he stepped into the hallway and shut the bedroom door behind him. His running shoes and earbuds waited for him in the workout room, so he was ready to go after a quick stretch. Royce snagged a bottle of water from the mini fridge and hit the treadmill. He cranked up the music to drown out any intrusive thoughts and gave himself over to the movement his body craved. Royce much preferred weightlifting to cardio, but sometimes he just needed to stretch his legs like Forrest Gump.
He received an email notification on his phone somewhere around Montana and slowed the treadmill to a quick walk so he could cool down. But then Royce nearly tripped over his own two feet when he saw the email had come from the medical examiner’s office. Dr. Fawkes had new updates on the Matisse investigation. Royce turned off the machine and rode the belt like an escalator, stepping down when he ran out of room. He dropped onto the weight bench and logged in to the secure account to read his SPD emails. His smile grew with every result he read. The fingerprints on the pill bottle belonged to Julia and Alyssa. Julia hadn’t touched the liquor decanter or tumbler, but her prints were all over the smoothie glass and the spice grinder where the benzodiazepine residue was found. Julia had put the ground pills into her father’s green smoothie. Mommy dearest came along a while later and drove the final nail into his coffin when she plied him with scotch.
To be fair, she might’ve been telling the truth when she claimed to have only poured him one drink. But the doctor either continued drinking on his own, or someone had helped him achieve dangerous blood alcohol levels. What Royce needed to know was if Alyssa Matisse knew her daughter had slipped drugs into his smoothie. He searched the side effects someone might experience while taking benzodiazepine and read that the drug could cause extreme irritability in some people. It was possible and maybe even plausible that Alyssa had simply tried to calm her husband down with a drink and a suggestion he should do an activity he enjoyed. She came across as a woman who staunchly supported her husband, but that could’ve been an act. Having the irrefutable evidence didn’t immediately solve the case like it did on television. Royce would need to interview both women if he hoped to get to the truth, and they’d made it clear he’d need a warrant to do so.
“You asked for it, ladies,” Royce said to an empty room.
He smiled gleefully as he dialed Diego’s number. The young detective answered with a snarl. “Rise and shine, D. The Matisse case just caught fire, and we have a lot of work to do.”
Yvonne Miller’s soft brown eyes darted around Bytes and Brew as if searching for signs of the Boogeyman or one of the Matisse women. Royce was absolutely certain neither of them had even heard of the cybercafé, let alone stepped inside it. The woman practically vibrated with nerves, and he hated to cause her additional stress. Contrary to what he’d thought, Yvonne hadn’t been avoiding him on purpose. She’d explained in her text that she worked three jobs to support herself and her aging parents.
“We won’t keep you long,” Royce assured her. He already had enough information to obtain his warrants, so whatever she told them would just be icing on the cake.
“Thank you,” Yvonne replied. “I can’t afford to be late.”
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Diego asked.
Yvonne looked longingly at the menu, dropped her gaze, and shook her head.
Diego leaned forward and lowered his voice. “It will be my treat.”
Yvonne lifted her head. “Are you sure?”
Diego aimed his megawatt smile at her. “I might have to do some extra dishes or something.” At Yvonne’s confused expression, he winked. “My husband is the owner. Why don’t I sweet-talk him out of a couple of brews while you guys get started?”
“You know my order,” Royce said.
Yvonne ordered a salted caramel latte that made him think of Sawyer. His face must’ve betrayed his brain’s detour—most likely a dopey smile—because Yvonne asked if it was his favorite drink.
“No, but it’s an indulgence my husband can’t refuse.”
Yvonne seemed to relax after that. She rested her hands on the table and squared her shoulders. “What would you like to know about Dr. and Mrs. Matisse?”
As Royce considered the best way to phrase his questions, it occurred to him that he was most curious about Julia. Maybe Alyssa Matisse had fooled him with her unwavering support for her husband, but of the two women, Julia seemed more impulsive and volatile. Was duress to blame for her behavior, or had the traumatic events exposed her true nature? She was the one who’d ground the benzos into a powder and slipped it into her father’s protein smoothie. Julia Matisse was the one with the daddy issues. What Royce needed to prove was her intention. When had she drugged her father? Had she tried to kill him? It sounded like Dr. Matisse was a hard man to live with, but what pushed her over the edge? Had she overheard her father’s conversations with Felix or Richard Todd on Friday? If what Julia told him was correct, Yvonne had already left by the time Dr. Matisse had spoken with either man. Verifying what time the staff left would be a good place to start.
“What time did you and Ricardo leave on Friday?” Royce asked as Diego returned with their coffee.
Yvonne took a sip from the cup, and a blissful expression washed over her face. Then she set the coffee down and fixed them with a serious gaze. “Ricardo finished food prep for the long weekend and left around ten. Mrs. Matisse had asked me to tackle some extra cleaning projects last week, and I finished them up right around noon. I looked for Mrs. Matisse to see if there was anything else she needed, but she’d left the house for an appointment. Julia told me I could leave. She doesn’t sign my paychecks, and I wasn’t sure I should listen. I asked if I should speak with Dr. Matisse first, but she laughed and said he didn’t get involved with domestic operations. Julia said he likely didn’t know my name.” Yvonne frowned and shook her head. “I’ve worked for the family since they moved to Savannah, and that really hurt my feelings.”
“I bet,” Royce said.
“It was a terribly rude thing to say,” Diego added.
Yvonne smiled sadly. “But also likely true, so I didn’t feel guilty about cutting out early. I don’t get a lot of time for myself. I was eager to enjoy it and ran right out of there without my purse.” She shook her head. “I went back inside to retrieve it from the utility room.” Yvonne lowered her head for a few minutes before looking up to meet Royce’s gaze. “That’s when I heard the shouting.”
“Who was shouting?”
“Dr. Matisse. His voice was muffled, and I could tell he was in his office. The conversation was one-sided, so I knew he was on the phone. I’d never known him to yell at himself, and Julia would’ve been giving it right back if he’d shouted at her like that.”
“Can you recall anything that was said?” Royce asked.
Yvonne’s face turned pink, and she averted her eyes again.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he said. “It’s human nature to be curious.”
Yvonne slowly lifted her gaze. “I tried to creep closer to find out what was going on, but I saw Julia standing outside his office door. Dr. Matisse was still yelling, but all my attention was on her. She’d gone as rigid as a board and as white as a ghost. Julia had one hand pressed against her stomach and the other covering her mouth. She didn’t move or make a sound. Julia looked like grief had turned her to stone. The only sign of life was the silent tears sliding down her face. I felt terrible for her. If she’d ever shown an ounce of warmth in her personality, I might’ve gone to her and offered comfort.”
“What did you do?” Royce asked.
“I turned and left as quietly as I could.”
“You don’t think she saw you?” Diego asked.
Yvonne shook her head. “I’m not even sure she was aware of her surroundings.”
“And you can’t recall a single word Dr. Matisse shouted?”
Yvonne pursed her lips and scrunched her brow for a few seconds before shaking her head. “It wasn’t the words that caught my attention. It was his voice. Dr. Matisse has always been quick to anger and blustery, but this was unlike anything I’d ever heard from him. He sounded like his world was about to end, and he was desperate to stop it.”
“It’s impossible for you to know how much of the conversation Julia overheard, correct?” Royce clarified.
“That’s right. I just know she was already listening outside his door when I approached at the end of the hallway, and she was still there when I decided my paycheck meant more to me than being nosy.”
“Have you been in touch with Alyssa or Julia since Dr. Matisse’s death?”
Yvonne nodded. “I called Mrs. Matisse as soon as I heard the news on Saturday evening. She didn’t answer my call, so I left her a voicemail message. I offered my condolences and asked her to call if she needed anything from me. I thought she might need me to clean, call the pool company, or prepare food for visitors. They have so many friends, and I expected them to swarm Mrs. Matisse to offer comfort and support. But she didn’t get back to me.” Yvonne worked her bottom lip between her teeth. “Then I saw the paper on Sunday and realized why. The accusations in that article would’ve destroyed her. Mrs. Matisse is a proud woman and wouldn’t want anyone to see her vulnerabilities. She will refuse to believe her husband was capable of those things because of what it might say about her.”
“Would you say Dr. Matisse and Mrs. Matisse had a good marriage?” Diego asked.
“What’s a good marriage these days?” Yvonne asked with a dry chuckle. “Their relationship was intense and sometimes volatile. I wouldn’t say they were in love, and I’m not even sure they liked each other very much. They didn’t laugh or spend time together when I was there. Maybe they became an entirely different couple after I went home each day.”
Royce somehow doubted that. “Did any of the volatility ever lead to physical violence?”
“No,” she said slowly, “but I would say Dr. Matisse could be emotionally abusive. Especially regarding Julia. Nothing she did pleased either of them, but Mrs. Matisse at least attempted to go through the motions of being a supportive parent. Dr. Matisse ridiculed Julia horribly when she was younger, and she’d developed an eating disorder. They argued viciously for years, and then Julia became nearly as invisible to Dr. Matisse as the household help. This weekend is the first time she’s returned to Savannah in years.”
“That’s really sad.” Royce would be the first person to admit his daddy issues, and he clocked them in other people too. “I have nothing else to ask right now.” Royce looked at Diego to see if he had more questions to ask, but he just shook his head. “I’ll do everything I can to leave you out of this investigation, but what you witnessed might end up being very important.”
Yvonne exhaled her next breath slowly. “Don’t worry about me, Sergeant Locke. Clients like the Matisses will beat down my door to hire me if they think I have gossip to share. They’re nothing more than vultures who won’t stop until they’ve picked the carcasses clean. They hide behind high-end clothes, expensive jewelry, and genteel manners to conceal their gory activities.” She pushed back her chair and stood. “I’ll make an official report if you need me to.”
Royce rose to his feet and shook her hand. “I appreciate it.”
She thanked Diego for the coffee and hurried from the café. They waited for her to disappear down the sidewalk before heading out too.
“What do you think?” Royce asked once they were in his SUV.
“I think both Matisse women had strong motives to want Jean Claude Matisse dead.” Diego considered. “If Alyssa Matisse participated in his death, wouldn’t she accept Yvonne’s offer to clean up? That would’ve destroyed the evidence, and we wouldn’t have a case.”
“That’s a sound argument someone thinking rationally would make, but murder is usually triggered by high emotions that result in mistakes.” Royce looked out the windshield as he mentally moved the puzzle pieces around to form a clear picture. “We don’t have a reason to doubt what Yvonne told us, and the timing of the phone call matches what we learned from Felix and Richard Todd. So, Jean Claude got into a shouting match on the phone around noon on Friday. Alyssa Matisse wasn’t home, but Julia was.”
“And Yvonne placed a stricken Julia right outside her father’s office during the phone call,” Diego said. “How do you want to play this?”
Royce glanced at his watch. “Let’s cross our t’s and dot our i’s because we’re going to keep our nine o’clock appointment with the Matisse women.”