Page 90 of Murder By the Millions
Amira loped behind, her tongue lolling from her mouth.
“Here we are,” Reika said, entering the kitchen.
“I love this room.” As a girl, I’d wanted to live in a Victorian house. I’d imagined myself in a room on the top floor, isolated from the rest of the world and letting my hair grow so long Rapunzel would be jealous. “It’s charming.”
“Thank you. I had a hand in the redo.”
The space was in keeping with the design of the original house, though the appliances had been updated and the dark woodwork had been refinished.
“Is the white tile original?” I asked.
“No, but as close as it could be. Put the boxes there.” She indicated the island’s marble countertop, which was definitely new. “I’ll plate them later.”
I obeyed and then leaned my back against the counter’s edge. “Read any good books lately?”
“Too many to count.”
“How aboutThe Falcon at the Portal?”
“Of course. One of Peters’s best. I read it for the fifth time last year.”
“AndThe Course of all Treasons?”
“I haven’t browsed it in quite a while. Not since book club.”
I gawked at her. “Um, you said it was the book you were reading last Monday night.”
“Did I?” Her face pinched with concentration. “Did … I …Ooh…” She paled and faltered.
I gripped her elbow and guided her to a chair by the vintage dining table. “Do you need water?”
“Yes, please. I’m …” Tears flooded her eyes. “Allie, I’m so embarrassed.”
Amira hurried to her human and nudged her knee. Instinctively, Reika petted the dog’s head.
I fetched the water and brought it to her.
She drank greedily and plunked the glass down. “So very, very embarrassed,” she muttered.
“Why?” I took a seat and placed both hands on the table as a gesture of trust.
“Thirty years ago, after I was attacked, I started drinking heavily. Before I knew it, I was an alcoholic. It took me ten years to break free. My ESA dogs have been my saving grace.” A tear leaked down her cheek. “Books, too, of course. They are my greatest refuge. As for my weakness, years passed before I went to AA, but I did, and I beat the addiction, and I was doing fine until Monday afternoon, when my boyfriend …” More tears slipped from her eyes. She swiped them with her knuckles. “When my boyfriend of three years ended our relationship. Rather than call my sponsor, I succumbed. I got so drunk, I went to bed and stayed there with the covers over my head, hating myself for being weak.”
I reflected on the article I’d read about the inebriated incident at the conference in Charlotte.
“When you came here Tuesday, I noticed you staring at me,” she said. “I brushed off your concern and claimed I had a sour stomach. I didn’t want to admit what I’d done.”
I recalled the aroma of her pungent perfume wafting to me. Had she donned the scent to cover the noxious odor of a binge?
Reika sighed. “I’ve never been one to need a man. I’ve always stood on my own two feet.”
“Weren’t you married once?”
“Yes. He died over twenty years ago. He overdosed.”
That was the piece of information I couldn’t remember. Tegan had told me after book club one night. No one had knownhe was addicted to pills. Rumors had abounded about whether he’d taken his life or someone had helped him along.
“We were quite a pair.” Reika chuckled with self-deprecating sadness. “Days of Wine and Roseshad nothing on us.” She rubbed Amira’s scruff. “After he passed, I started going to AA. His parents had money. They helped me financially and buried the story about his addiction. I never thought I’d fall in love again, but getting sober helped me greet the world with open arms. Fast-forward to three years ago. I met Roy when he brought his history class to the museum for a field trip, and he and I hit it off, but on Monday he …” A sob caught in her throat. “I can’t go on.”
