Hard Press: The Evie Black Files

by Adam Nicholls

  “Hold on.” Evie moved the cell phone between them. “You told the police about your blackouts, and they did nothing? They didn’t even check up on it?”

  “If they did, they didn’t tell me. Then again, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, would we?” Calvin cleared his throat with a fist covering his mouth. “John Matthews soon appeared out of the blue. This time he actually had the nerve to come to our home. Know what happened next?”

  “What’s that?”

  “I went lights-out. Next thing I know, I’m waking up with my family… murdered, and the hammer is in my hand.” Calvin Durant actually did his best to hide his fresh tears. “I know how stupid it sounds. It even sounds convenient, I guess. But you have to believe me, Miss Black—everything I just told you is the truth. I love my family. You have to help me prove that I didn’t kill them. Please.”

  Evie dropped her head into her hands, taking in the information as best she could. If this guy was telling the truth, she could not only secure herself a job, but also vindicate a potentially innocent man. If she turned out to be wrong, however, it would be the end of her journalistic career.

  Chapter Twelve

  Surprised to discover she believed him, Evie took the chance. With details of John Matthews saved to her phone, she thanked Calvin Durant and Detective Little for their time and headed straight over to the Matthews residence.

  It could have been dangerous—Evie knew that, and she could picture her brother being disappointed in her. “That was stupid and reckless,” he would have said, even though stupid and reckless had saved his life more than once. Anyway, she was like him in a way—crazily stubborn and always doing what she felt she had to.

  When she finally reached the apartment block, she ascended the outdoor stairs and crossed the balcony to his door. 221B was plated on the front in dirtied brass, and Evie thought of Sherlock Holmes’s address while she knocked.

  There was no answer at first. When Evie heard the latch come undone, she prepared herself to make a pleasant introduction. But then she noticed that the sounds hadn’t come from the door she’d knocked on, but the one next door.

  A woman came outside, her arm wrapped around a white plastic laundry basket. She had a bathrobe on and curlers in her hair. Considering her attire, she was probably just heading downstairs to the laundry room.

  “Excuse me,” Evie said, stopping the neighbor at a moment’s notice.

  The woman turned, looking Evie up and down. “Never seen you ’ere before. You new?”

  “New?”

  “You know.” She jerked a thumb in the direction of John’s door. “One of his.”

  “If you mean a girlfriend, no.” Evie walked closer, pushing her glasses farther up her nose. “I’m a journalist, hoping to catch a word with him about some charity work he’s done for the homeless.” She spared him the shame of the truth without fully understanding why.

  The woman gawked at her suspiciously. One eye looked ready to pop out of its socket it was staring so hard. “Well, he ain’t hardly ever in. Since he quit his job to take care of his sick mother, he only ever comes home to sleep. Spends all his time at the care home.”

  “How does he afford that on his salary?”

  “He doesn’t. His cousin foots the bill and he does the carin’. That was the deal.”

  Some monster he is, looking after his sick mom. “That’s sweet. Do you happen to know where that is—the home?”

  “Sunny… Sunny something.”

  “Sunnymead Center?” Evie had passed it many times on her way to work.

  The woman snapped her fingers, and her eyes lit up. “That’s the one.”

  “Great. Thanks for your help.” She left while the woman was saying something else, but Evie found herself a little unnerved by her. She had looked exactly how she’d pictured the witch in the Hansel and Gretel story—unsettling, and not somebody she wanted to be around.

  Evie supposed that Calvin Durant was somebody she hadn’t really wanted to be around, either, but that had turned out to be quite the surprise. Now here she was, on the hunt for a man who may have something to do with a family’s murder.

  I must be crazy, she thought as she padded back down the steps. Totally insane.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Since tapping the care home into Google and realizing that visiting hours weren’t until the next day, Evie had endured a long night of only coffee and research. Her diet extended to little more than that these days. What more could she afford?

  Ten o’clock soon rolled by, and she found herself outside the home. It was a humble establishment, with old-fashioned wallpaper and wooden seats (in the waiting area, at least). When the receptionist finally appeared, even she had a welcoming demeanor.

  “How can I help you?” she asked, clicking on the end of her pen.

  Evie dropped her voice to a whisper, as if she were in a doctor’s waiting room. “I’m here to see Mrs. Matthews,” she said, hoping that there was only one Mrs. Matthews in the building. “I’m her niece.”

  The receptionist’s eyebrows rose up in surprise. “Oh, you’re Mary?”

  “Yes.” Evie took a chance with this lie.

  “We’ve heard so much about you. John tells us you’re the sweetest little cousin one could ask for.” She stood and moved excitedly to a nearby door. “I’m sure Mrs. Matthews will be delighted to see you. If you need anything, just stroll on back here and let me know.”

  “Thank you.”

  The woman left her in a large, quiet room of elderly people. It smelled nice in here—lavender with traces of… vanilla? Whatever it was, it was easy on the senses. Evie walked around, looking at the faces of the women. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for exactly, until she came to the back wall where a paralyzed woman sat unmoving. At her side, a middle-aged man was kneeling, trying to encourage a spoonful of something into her mouth.

  This has to be it, Evie thought. “Mr. Matthews?”

  The man stood up, showing off his height. “Yes?”

  “I’m Evie Black. Could I talk to you alone for a moment?”

  There was concern in his expression as he set down the bowl and whispered something into his mom’s ear. “Right this way,” he told Evie and led her into a fenced-off area outside. The sun was shining, and the only noise was that of the New York street traffic.

  “I’m going to be quite forward with you, Mr. Matthews.”

  “John,” he insisted, but folded his arms in defense.

  “John…” Evie took a moment to let that sit. “Do you know Sadie Durant?”

  When his forehead creased up and his mouth hung open a little, John stepped back and leaned against the wall. “You a cop?”

  Why? Got something to hide? “Journalist. Calvin Durant told me some things about you, and I’d rather not print them without checking out the facts first. I hope that’s okay?”

  “It’s welcomed.” John rubbed his eyes with both palms and exhaled loudly. “Yeah, I knew Sadie Durant.”

  “Did you know that she died recently?”

  “I’m afraid so. Read it in the paper.”

  Evie steadied herself. She hated what was coming, but she simply had to do it. She only hoped that it wouldn’t sound too accusing. “Calvin Durant… said there were some problems between you and Sadie. That you had a bit of a crush on her?”

  “If that’s what you want to call it.”

  “What would you call it?”

  “Me? I’d call it what it was: an affair.”

  For a moment, Evie thought she had misheard. “An affair?”

  “Calvin didn’t tell you?” John moved away from the wall and strolled slowly around the small space. There was a bistro table at his side, but he only used it to lay a hand on, keeping his back turned away from Evie. And then he shook his head. “No. I suppose he didn’t know.”

  It was something of a relief. If Calvin had been withholding information like that—telling lies like that—then he could easily be lying about
everything else. It would mess up her article, but it was better for it to go sour sooner rather than later. At least this way she would have more time to find something else worth writing about. “What happened?”

  “Sadie broke it off, said she wanted to make things work with her husband. So she packed up her job, moved into a new house, and never looked back. Never even said goodbye.”

  “Which explains your feeling guilty.” As soon as she said it, she went quiet. She was hoping that he wouldn’t react to it or ask too many questions. But that kind of luck never fell on Evie, and this time would be no exception.

  “Excuse me?” John turned, looking her dead in the eye.

  “I just mean… Well, Calvin Durant has suspicions that you… murdered his family.”

  In the speed of a heartbeat, John flicked the bistro chair across the sitting area. It crashed into the wooden fence, making Evie start. “Of course he does! He’s guilty as hell!”

  “You were there that night?” she asked, trying to hide her panic.

  “What? Yes, I was there. That was probably what made him fly off the handle.” John crossed the small area and pushed open the door. “I’d like you to leave, Miss Black. You shouldn’t have come here—not with those accusations.”

  Feeling almost ashamed, Evie left the building in a hurry. She had only come here to get the truth. But what she was leaving with was two different sides to the same story and two trembling legs struggling to hold her upright.

  Chapter Fourteen

  As if it wasn’t bad enough to be caught in the middle of a screwed-up lie-fest, Evie soon received a phone call from Conan Reed. He summoned her to the office.

  When she arrived—one particularly expensive cab ride later—she sat across from his desk and watched him settle in. He was shuffling papers, slamming drawers, and moving stuff around his workspace.

  “Catch me up,” he said.

  Evie told him everything she had done so far. Although he didn’t extend her the courtesy of even looking her in the eye, she offered as much detail as she could. When she got to the part about John Matthews and his little outburst, Conan stopped her.

  “You did what?”

  “It was just an interv—”

  “You can’t go around putting people in a box like that. He could sue us for harassment.” Conan sat back, roughly massaging his scalp. He spun slightly in his chair, a look of contemplation on his face. “How close do you think you’re coming to having an article?”

  “Um…” Evie wasn’t even sure if she could get an article. She was already taking enough risks as it was. “I’ll get it done within the time frame. I can guarantee that much.”

  “I hope so,” Conan said. “Because I’m shortening it to three days.”

  Evie shot to her feet, preparing to scream at him for being an ass. As soon as she was up, looking down at his reddening cheeks, she suddenly remembered that he wasn’t even her boss yet. Her mouth had gone as far as opening, but she managed to stifle her yelling. “This,” she said calmly, “is unfair. I chose my case with the deadline in mind. Shortening it now would be—”

  Conan raised a hand, cutting her off. “Take it or leave it. I can’t put everything on hold for a story that might not even come about. If you mess this up, I’m going to need time to get a half-decent story out there.”

  “But—”

  “You still have your chance, Miss Black. Now close the door on your way out.”

  Evie didn’t hang around. If she was going to continue pursuing this case, she would have to figure out her next move as quickly as possible, or else she would lose everything she had worked for.

  Chapter Fifteen

  At noon, Calvin was taken from his cell. He didn’t know why this was, until he was shown into the interrogation room and forced into the seat. It wouldn’t be long before his trial, but that wasn’t exactly comforting.

  Soon enough, a man stepped in. He was redheaded, with freckles and a little ginger goatee. His suit looked expensive, but he didn’t wear it well. “Good afternoon, Mr. Durant,” he said, taking a seat. “I’m Detective Poe.”

  “As in Edgar Allan?” Calvin asked.

  “Yes, exactly.” Poe opened up a file and spread different photographs and documents across the table.

  Calvin wanted nothing to do with it. All he could think about was whether or not he would receive a fair trial. “What’s going to happen to me?”

  “Oh, you’ll be going to court soon enough.”

  “I want to talk to my lawyer.”

  “He’s busy.” Poe didn’t so much as look up to say this.

  “You called him?”

  “Yes. He can’t help you right now.”

  Calvin was at a loss. This detective seemed to be treating him well enough, considering that he probably thought him guilty. But maybe now was his chance to appeal to the guy’s nature, and he was determined to seize it. “Listen to me,” he began, choosing his words carefully. “I didn’t kill my family. The detective—Little—he came to my cell the other night and threatened me.”

  Poe was listening now. He set down the paper he’d been holding and looked up, meeting Calvin’s gaze. “Threatened? How?”

  “Some strangling, pulling around. It doesn’t matter. Point is, he’s only interested in hearing that I’m guilty. I tried to explain—God knows I tried to explain at my arraignment—but he didn’t want to hear it. You have to help me.”

  Detective Poe cupped his hands together. “Don’t you think you should listen to him?”

  “Wha… What?”

  “Don’t you think you should just plead guilty and make everyone’s life a lot easier?”

  Calvin recoiled. He knows. He knows and doesn’t give a shit!

  “Do as you’re told, like a good little boy.” Poe collected the papers and went for the door. “I’m going out for a bit. I’m thinking steak for lunch. Some cigars, maybe. Meanwhile, you sit here and think about what might be best for you.”

  The door slammed shut behind him, and Calvin sat in utter horror. Six months ago, he’d been a family man; his adoring wife and loving daughter were on his team. And now here he sat, not only accused of murdering them but being coerced into confession.

  Whatever would happen next, he needed to talk to his lawyer as soon as possible. And if Evie Black could hurry the hell up, that would be useful, too.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Every time someone passed by the open door, Evie looked up from her desk. Well, it wasn’t exactly a desk, but rather a staff room dining table she had made into a desk.

  She was at a dead end. Finding a good lead seemed so far out of the question that all she could think about was getting John Matthews and Calvin Durant in a room together. If that wouldn’t help her figure out the truth, then she didn’t know what would.

  “How’s it going, beautiful?”

  Evie started at the voice and looked up at the doorway it had come from. Troy stood there, a self-satisfied grin on his face, greasy blond hair slicked back over his head. “What do you want?”

  “Can’t a guy say hello to his date?”

  Shit. Evie had totally forgotten that she had agreed to go out with him. There was nothing she wanted less in this world than to eat dinner at the same table as this guy. Sadly, her word meant everything to her, and she had trapped herself into it. “Sure. You okay?”

  Troy’s smile broadened. “I didn’t know you cared.” Making his way past the water cooler, he came around to her side of the table and pulled out a chair next to her. The metallic legs scraped the tiles.

  “I don’t. Just… making conversation.”

  “There are more interesting things to talk about.”

  “Like what?” Evie curled her arm around her work, refusing to let him peek.

  “Where we’re going to dinner.” Troy pulled the chair in.

  “I don’t know. I don’t want to go just yet.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “I have a deadline.”

/>   “We all have deadlines, baby.” Troy uttered a quiet chuckle. Then, taking things to a whole new level, he put a hand on her leg. “But you gotta let your hair down and fuck once in a while, eh?”

  Evie shot to her feet, slapping his hand away quickly. “Don’t touch me!”

  Troy’s grin turned into a hurt and embarrassed frown. He looked like a grumpy child.

  “I’m not going out with you. You’ve shown me nothing but disrespect since the day we met. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She leaned over the table and collected her paperwork into any old order. Usually obsessed with neatness and perfection, she felt this was a good enough reason to throw order aside and sort through it later. She just wanted to get out of there.

  “You’re making a big mistake.” Troy stood up. “I’m a good guy.”

  “I’ll believe that when I see it.” Evie brought her work to her chest, snatched up her purse, and hurried out the door, where other people were buzzing around and could witness anything that might happen.

  “You’re making a big mistake,” Troy had said.

  And as he’d said it, Evie couldn’t help but notice the aggression in his eyes. It was like he’d been holding back. She knew men like that, and they never held back forever. Sooner or later they would lash out, and she wouldn’t want to be there when that happened.

  Chapter Seventeen

  After a long and hypnotic walk around the city, it now seemed so obvious. Evie’s next step wasn’t to interview anyone or even to eavesdrop on a discussion between the two suspects. It was to get inside their personal space, to rummage through their secrets—to break in to Calvin Durant’s home and dig up the dirt on him.

  It was dark outside now, which provided the perfect cover for her. Evie slipped into a nearby alley. None of the authorities were inside (the lights were off, and she’d been watching the place all evening), which pretty much gave her the go-ahead to break in.