He let go of me, but blocked the door.
“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s written all over your face.”
I swallowed hard.
He said, “I killed Haywood, a terrible mistake on my part, really, but there it is.”
I was barely able to breathe as my heart slammed around inside my chest.
He’d killed Haywood. He’d. Killed. Haywood.
“It all started on Founder’s Day,” he said. “When I drove Hyacinth home and accidentally ran over Virgil Keane.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. I needed to sit down. “I don’t understand. Why are you telling me this?”
“You would have figured it all out soon enough with the way you’re asking questions. Many people saw me, not Doug, leave the Harpies’ Founder’s Day event with Hyacinth. Your questions are too pointed.”
I couldn’t look away from his eyes. The blue eyes that had always seemed so kind.
They remained kind, and I couldn’t understand how he was a murderer.
I suddenly recalled how stricken he’d looked when I mentioned Louella’s name, and now understood why—he’d run over her master. “Why did you keep Louella?” I asked, pieces of my heart breaking. He was a good man . . . I’d always believed so. Felt it. Trusted it.
Knowing he wasn’t made me feel as though he’d just run me over.
“Guilt, mostly,” he said, watching Louella’s chest rise and fall. “It was my fault she was in this situation.” His gaze shifted back to me. “I didn’t know I’d hit Virgil at first. I’d been driving Hyacinth’s car, and it wasn’t until I’d dropped off Hyacinth and started walking home that I saw the emergency crews at the corner and realized what must have happened.”
“Had you been drinking?”
He smiled a humorless smile. “There’s the irony of it all. I was chosen to take Hyacinth home because I was the only one who hadn’t been three sheets to the wind that night. I couldn’t mix alcohol with my cancer medication. At that point, my double vision was just beginning to become troublesome, especially at night, but I thought I could manage the short ride just fine. I’d been wrong. I knew I’d hit something, but I thought it was just the curb, not Virgil Keane.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
He dragged a hand down his face and his fingers lingered on his beard. “I planned to. I didn’t sleep at all that night, and in the morning I was going to march myself straight to the sheriff’s office. But when the news made it clear that there had been no witnesses to the accident, I . . . chickened out.”
My God.
“Why does Hyacinth believe she killed him?” I asked, my voice strained.
“She came to Idella and me a couple of mornings after the accident, panicked about the damage to her SUV. She’d seen the news reports about Virgil and wondered if there was a link. I lied and told her I dropped her off safe and sound, her SUV intact, and hinted heavily that she must have gone out again after I dropped her off. She had no memory of the night at all, so it was easy to plant the seed.”
“Why?” I asked, trying to ignore my witchy senses going berserk. I wanted answers. “Why do that to her? You had to know she’d believe she hit Virgil.”
“Because by then I’d concocted the blackmail plan,” he said simply. “In her letters, I threatened to reveal to the public that she’d killed Virgil.”
Holy hell. Who was this man? Had I known him at all? “But Idella’s being blackmailed about her family money being linked to the brothel in New Orleans . . .”
I’d managed to surprise him by revealing the information. The shock shone in his eyes, and his chin jutted as he nodded, seemingly impressed. “Yes, she is.” He tipped his head. “Or she was, rather. With Haywood’s death, I decided to stop the letters, hoping he’d take the fall for them.”
“You blackmailed your own wife?”
“You didn’t dig deep enough, Carly. If you had, you’d know that Idella’s trust fund ran out years ago. This practice is thriving and brings in a lucrative income, but that’s split between me and Dr. O’Neill, and the upkeep of the clinic. Yes, there was enough remaining to support the lifestyle Idella and I had become accustomed to, but then I was diagnosed with cancer. My medical insurance covered very little, which is entirely my fault. I chose the most affordable coverage for the practice, and it was entirely a case of getting what you paid for. Bills piled on faster than you could ever imagine. Idella and I drained our savings and went deep into debt.”
I thought about the day I had seen him with the shopping bags that looked like they were dragging him down . . . His woebegone appearance probably hadn’t been because Idella was punishing him for snapping at her—it was because she had just spent a ton of money they apparently didn’t have.
“We needed money,” he confirmed. “After I hit Virgil and framed Hyacinth, blackmail seemed the next logical step.”