Chapter 3 - An Audience of Four
Evan Hart climbed out of his truck with the heavy, uncoordinated movements of a man whose nervous system had stopped processing oxygen properly. His work shirt was unbuttoned at the throat, his face flushed red under a layer of construction dust. He looked from Claire standing on the wide stone porch to the police cruiser idling behind him, his eyes wide and completely uncomprehending.
Officer Miller, an older patrolman with graying temples whom Claire recognized from the annual town charity gala, stepped out of the squad car with one hand resting casually near his utility belt.
""Mrs. Holloway?"" Miller asked, tipping his hat slightly. ""We got a call regarding a domestic dispute at this address?""
""Thank you for coming so quickly, Officer Miller,"" Claire said, stepping aside to hold the heavy oak front door open. ""Please come inside. Evan, you too.""
""Claire, where is she?"" Evan demanded, his voice thick with an agony that made Officer Miller immediately square his shoulders and step between them. ""Where is Celeste? Her car is in your driveway. What is happening here?""
""Follow me,"" was all Claire said.
She led the two men through the foyer. The house was dead quiet now. Grant had apparently heard the police radio squawk from the driveway and had finally realized that this afternoon was not going to end with a quiet conversation over scotch.
Claire stopped at the base of the stairs and pointed down.
Evan looked down. His eyes landed on the gold watch resting on the second riser. Then his gaze drifted to the side table, where Celeste’s diamond-studded tennis bracelet lay coiled next to an empty glass of Veuve Clicquot.
""What... what is that?"" Evan whispered, though everyone in the room knew he had already assembled the puzzle. ""That's Celeste's.""
""Officer Miller,"" Claire said, turning to the policeman whose expression had hardened from professional curiosity to profound distaste. ""My husband, Grant Holloway, and his mistress, Celeste Hart, are currently behind the locked door of the master suite at the end of that hallway. I secured the room from the exterior twenty minutes ago after discovering them together upon my unexpected return from work.""
Evan’s face went from pale to an ash gray so severe Claire thought his legs might give out. ""No,"" he muttered, shaking his head violently. ""No, no, no. She was at the dermatologist in White Plains. She had an appointment at noon.""
""Her shoes are under Grant’s winter coat in the mudroom, Evan,"" Claire said gently, her voice cracking for the very first time with genuine pity. ""Go look if you need to.""
Evan didn't move toward the mudroom. Instead, a low, animal growl tore out of his chest, and he lunged for the stairs.
""Sir! Stop right there!"" Officer Miller barked, moving with surprising speed for a man his size. He grabbed Evan by the shoulder of his canvas jacket and shoved him firmly back against the wall. ""You take one more step up those stairs and you are going in handcuffs! Do you hear me? Step back!""
""She's my wife!"" Evan screamed, the sound echoing through the cavernous foyer, raw and broken. ""Celeste! Get out here! Get out here right now!""
Above them, the brass doorknob turned furiously back and forth.
""Evan?"" Celeste’s voice filtered through the wood, thin, terrified, and utterly exposed. ""Evan, please don't hurt him! It isn't what it looks like! Evan, please!""
""Don't hurt him?"" Evan repeated, his voice cracking into a high, hysterical laugh that sounded like glass shattering. ""You're in another man's bed and your first words are to protect him?""
""Officer Miller,"" Claire said, stepping forward with the brass key resting in her open palm. ""I would like you to escort them both off my property. Grant owns this house jointly with me, but under Connecticut law, I am filing for exclusive occupancy based on immediate marital misconduct and domestic endangerment. My attorney is submitting the injunction right now.""
Miller looked at the key, then at Evan, who was breathing heavily against the foyer paneling, tears finally cutting tracks through the dust on his cheeks.
""Stand here, Mr. Hart,"" Miller ordered firmly. ""Do not move an inch. Mrs. Holloway, stay behind me.""
May you like
Miller walked slowly up the winding staircase, his heavy boots making a dull, authoritative thud on every tread. He reached the master bedroom door, inserted the key, and turned it. The brass deadbolt snapped back with a loud, final click.
Officer Miller pushed the door wide open.
