Chapter 6
That evening,
Frank was sitting in his leather recliner.
He was drinking expensive scotch.
He was watching the golf channel.
Patricia was in the kitchen,
baking a pie.
She always baked when she was plotting.
Briana was on her phone,
laughing at TikToks.
They were perfectly calm.
They were perfectly secure in their delusion.
Then,
the doorbell rang.
Frank frowned.
"Get the door,
Briana,"
he grumbled.
Briana rolled her eyes.
She shuffled to the front door and pulled it open.
Detective Miller stood on the porch.
He flashed his badge.
"Good evening.
I am looking for Frank and Patricia."
Briana’s face went pale.
"Mom!"
she yelled.
"Dad!"
Frank stood up,
setting his scotch on the side table.
He walked to the foyer,
puffing out his chest.
He always tried to intimidate people.
Even the police.
"Can I help you,
officer?"
Frank asked loudly.
"Detective,"
Miller corrected smoothly.
"I am investigating an incident that occurred here yesterday morning.
An assault."
Frank laughed.
It was a forced,
fake laugh.
"Assault?
That’s ridiculous.
Who told you that?
My hysterical daughter-in-law?"
Patricia hurried out of the kitchen,
wiping her hands on an apron.
"Oh,
officer,
please come in,"
she said sweetly.
"I am so sorry about this.
Alice is...
well,
she is very unwell."
Detective Miller stepped inside.
He took out his notepad.
"She reported that you struck her across the face,
sir,"
he said,
looking directly at Frank.
"She has a severe contusion on her left cheek."
Frank waved his hand dismissively.
"She did that to herself!
She threw a fit.
She grabbed a knife,
for God's sake!
I tried to calm her down,
and she tripped and hit her face on the counter."
Patricia nodded eagerly.
"It’s true,
detective.
I saw the whole thing.
She is deeply disturbed.
She threatened my husband with a chef's knife for absolutely no reason."
Detective Miller wrote this down carefully.
"So,
you are stating for the record,
that no one struck her?"
"Absolutely not,"
Frank bellowed.
"I am a respected businessman.
I do not hit women."
"And you corroborate this,
ma'am?"
Miller asked Patricia.
"Yes,
I swear on a Bible,"
Patricia lied smoothly.
"We were terrified of her."
Miller turned to Briana.
"And you?"
Briana swallowed hard.
She looked at her father.
"Yeah.
She tripped.
She's crazy."
Miller closed his notepad.
He looked at the three of them.
He knew they were lying.
He had seen the handprint on Alice's face.
Counters do not leave finger marks.
"Thank you for your time,"
Miller said.
"I will be in touch."
He walked out of the house.
Frank shut the door behind him and sneered.
"Stupid girl,"
he muttered.
"She really thought the cops would take her word over mine."
Patricia patted his arm.
"Don't worry,
Frank.
It’s our word against hers.
And we have the reputation."
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They had no idea.
They had absolutely no idea.
