The Whispering Room by Amanda Stevens Read Free Book Online

to the house and ring the bell.
    Mrs. Courtland? I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.
    Evie? I hate like hell to be the one to have to tell you this.
    â€œEvie?”
    For a moment, Mitchell’s voice seemed so much a part of her memory, Evangeline forgot he was in the car with her. She turned and glanced at him. “Yeah?”
    â€œYou ready to do this?”
    â€œCan I just go have a root canal instead? Or maybe get some surgery done without anesthesia?”
    â€œâ€™Fraid not. Comes with the territory. Could be worse, though,” he added, and Evangeline knew that he was thinking about the night Johnny died, too.
    Silently, they got out of the car and started up the walkway together.
    The Courtland home was a three-story Greek revival with wide Doric columns in the front and a walled garden in the back. Baskets of trailing fernshung from the balconies, and the carefully tended flower beds exploded with color.
    The sound of splashing water and laughter drifted over the garden walls, and as Evangeline walked up the front steps, she heard a child singing in the back, a happy, inane tune that tugged at her heart and made her wish she was anywhere in the world but where she was—standing at a dead man’s front door.
    A middle-aged woman with short gray hair answered the door straightaway. She wore brown slacks and a blue, nondescript top that she tugged down over her rounded hips. “Yes?”
    â€œWe’re NOPD,” Mitchell said as he hauled out his wallet and showed her his ID. “Are you Mrs. Courtland? Mrs. Paul Courtland?”
    â€œNo, I’m the Courtlands’ nanny.” Her hazel eyes flickered with uncertainty. “Is there some trouble, Officer?”
    â€œIt’s Detective. And, yes, I’m afraid there’s been some trouble. Is Mrs. Courtland home?”
    â€œShe’s out by the pool with her daughter. Hold on a second and I’ll get her for you.”
    Instead of inviting them in, she closed the door in their faces.
    Mitchell gave a nonchalant shrug. “Lots of riffraff in the city these days. Can’t be too careful.”
    â€œYou do look a bit dodgy. Where’d you get that shirt?”
    â€œSalvation Army,” he said. “A buck twenty-five.”
    They waited in silence until the door was drawn back again a few minutes later. The woman who stood on the other side this time was a thirtysomething blonde wearing a green-and-gold bikini top with a matching sarong fastened at the top of one hip. She was tan and lean with the kind of soft beauty and quiet elegance women of her social station seemed to acquire naturally.
    Her full lips glinted with pale peach lip gloss and when she propped a hand on the door, Evangeline saw the same shade of shimmer on her nails. Fine-tuned was the first description that came to mind. Pampered was the second.
    â€œI’m Meredith Courtland,” she said as her cool gaze skipped from Evangeline to Mitchell and then darted past them to the unmarked car at the curb. “How may I help you?”
    â€œI’m Detective Hebert, this is my partner, Detective Theroux.” They both presented their IDs. “Ma’am, I’m afraid we have some bad news for you.”
    â€œBad news?” She stared at them blankly, as if such a concept were unheard of in her comfortable, insulated world. “Is this about the accident?”
    Mitchell glanced at Evangeline. “What accident would that be, ma’am?”
    â€œThe fender bender I had in the Quarter yesterday. I left all my information with the other driver, and I’ve already contacted my insurance company. I don’tknow why he felt the need to get the police involved.” She looked mildly annoyed as she ran her manicured nails through the precisely clipped strands of her blond bob.
    â€œWe’re not here about a car accident,” Evangeline said. “This is regarding your husband.”
    â€œPaul? What