Sarah Woods Mystery Series (1-6) Boxed Set Page 11

  “It’s my fault,” Max said, “I broke in and confronted her. I didn’t intend to use the gun. I’m sorry I brought it.”

  “Gabby tried to grab it from him,” I interjected. “It was an accident.”

  But was it really an accident? Or did Gabby want Max to pull the trigger? Did she want to die? We’d never know.

  “We got the e-mail you sent with the video images of Gabby and her clients,” Detective Flynn said. “I was just looking through them when we got the 911 call from Sarah.”

  Max looked over at me and put his hand on my back. I wiped my eyes again.

  “How’d you figure out it was Gabby?” I asked quietly.

  Max leaned back on the couch and took a deep breath.

  “It started to come together for me the other morning. You mentioned how upset you were about the conversation between the women in the locker room at your gym, about giving hand jobs.”

  “Yeah?” I said, confused.

  “Well, I kept wondering if there was any truth to it.” He looked at me apologetically. “I didn’t believe it was you, so it had to be someone else who worked there. And then, when Carter explained how Beth took those photos and how she was on to something else, it all started to fall into place.”

  “So you broke into Gabby’s house?”

  “I needed to find some kind of proof.”

  “Where did you find the cell phone?”

  “Honestly, I figured it was already at the bottom of a lake somewhere. But when I was going through a box in her basement, I found it. And something else.”

  “What?”

  “Two small digital clocks. I recognized the brand. The same as the one we used to sell when I had my business.” He slipped them out of his shirt pocket. “This little device can record up to ten hours of video at a time. The SD card was still in her phone, so I was able to watch the videos she’d taken of Gabby and her clients.”

  “No wonder,” I said, taking one in my hand.

  “What?”

  “A few days after Beth started working for me, she gave me these to put in the massage rooms. Said she’d gotten them for free and I could have them. I thought nothing of it, and put them in the rooms up on the shelves. Little did I know.”

  “And you didn’t notice them missing this past week?”

  “Honestly, no. It never even occurred to me. I forgot all about them. But why didn’t Gabby just destroy them? Why keep them in a box in her basement?”

  “I’m guessing she never figured anyone would come looking for them. She was never a suspect in the investigation.”

  “It’s no wonder we’d gotten so many sleazy guys calling our place. I never put two and two together.”

  “Why would you? You trusted Gabby.” Max reached over, put his hand on my knee, and offered a tired smile. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I know Gabby was your friend, and this must be… so hard for you.”

  “Not as hard as it’s been for you,” I said, covering his hand with mine. “By the way, can you call Melissa tonight and tell her what happened? She thought someone was in Beth’s room today, looking for something. It must have been Gabby. She must have found out where Beth and Melissa lived from our files. I wonder if she’d begun to worry that Beth might have planted other surveillance devices.”

  Detective Flynn, who had been content to sit and listen intently to our exchange, got up. “Well, you must be relieved that it’s over. Of course, I’ll need an official statement from each of you so we can put this thing to rest.”

  Of course.” Max said.

  “By the way, I’m assuming you have a license for that pistol.”

  “Yes I do, sir.”

  “Good. Then just hang tight and we’ll wrap this up.”

  He walked into the kitchen as we continued to sit on the couch, listening to the subdued voices of the police officers in the other room. Max sat close to me, holding my hand.

  “You should probably call your family,” he said, finally breaking the silence.

  “Yeah,” I replied, knowing they’d never believe the bizarre turn of events.

  An hour or so later, Max walked me to my car. He rested a hand on my shoulder. “Go on home and get some rest, okay?” he said, running his other hand through a strand of my hair.

  “I don’t know what to say, Max. I feel numb.” I leaned my forehead into his chest.

  “I know exactly how you feel,” he said, caressing my back. “But take it from me, you’re going to get through it.”

  “I wish a lot of things were different, you know?” I said, wondering if he knew what I really meant.

  He leaned down and kissed my cheek, then slowly backed away.

  “And I wish I could say that I hope things work out between you and your husband, but that would be a lie.”

  I laughed softly.

  “What about Carter?” I said. “Are you going to report him to the authorities?”

  “What for? I don’t like him, but he’s just a guy trying to make a living. He never made Beth do anything she didn’t want to do.”

  “Good point.” I said, “And what about you, Max? You sold your business. You solved your sister’s murder. Now what?”

  He looked away and narrowed his eyes, as if searching for something to say.

  “Maybe I’ll go on a little road trip with Marsha Brady. I have some money saved. Perhaps I’ll do what my parents wanted to do a couple of years ago.”

  I wanted to say, “Take me with you,” but knew I wouldn’t go even if he asked.

  “I think you should do it,” I said, taking his hand and rubbing the side of his arm. “Send me a postcard from somewhere.”

  He nodded, smiled, and hugged me again, then turned and walked to his car.

  Three weeks later

  After Gabby’s death, I decided to close my business and take a much needed vacation. The shock was beginning to subside but I found myself unable to even step foot inside my office. I needed to distance myself. Mostly from the memories that haunted me.

  Daniel was leaving on another business trip and I was actually looking forward to having the house to myself again.

  I thought of calling Max on several occasions, but stopped myself every time I picked up the phone. What was the point? I had a husband and a son. What kind of mother would I be to run off with a younger man. Besides, I barely knew him. I decided it was best to put him out of my mind. If only it was that easy.

  I sat at the kitchen table going through the mail I’d been neglecting. At the bottom of the pile was a small, square envelope in a mint green color addressed to me. There was no return address. I slid my pen under the flap and opened it. On the front of the card that I slid out of the envelope was a glossy photo of a golden retriever smiling with a perfect set of human teeth and the word CONGRATULATIONS, all upper case, below it. I’d seen cards like this at the pharmacy, and had always gotten a chuckle out of them. I opened it and read:

  Dear Sarah,

  Congratulations on your new job. It was so wonderful to see you a few weeks ago. I’ll be back in town on Friday and I hope you’ll join me again at the same place for lunch. I have some interesting things to tell you about. I do hope you’ll be able to make it.

  Your cousin,

  Greg

  I read the letter several times. I thought I’d made it perfectly clear to Carter a few weeks ago that I wanted nothing to do with him and his ridiculous stunts. And why me, an average mother and wife with no skills whatsoever in his kind of “business.” What could I possibly do to help him? I chuckled as I thought how ridiculous I’d look sneaking around spying on people.

  “Ready to go, Sarah?” Daniel’s voice brought me back from my reveries.

  “Yeah, I’m ready. I was just going through the mail,” I gathered everything together in a big heap and deposited it in the trash.

  “What time does your flight leave?” I asked, grabbing the car keys.

  “A few hours. You’ll have plenty of time to get me to the airport.” />
  “Wanna stop for lunch on the way?”

  “Sure. Sounds good.”

  “Okay. Let’s go.”

  “You know, Sarah,” Daniel suggested, picking up his briefcase, “since you’re taking some time off from work anyway, why don’t you and Brian come to San Diego with me for a few days? You’ve no excuses this time, and Brian has no school this week because of Thanksgiving.”

  After Gabby’s death, Daniel had been very attentive, even taking a few days off from work to help me get through the shock of what had happened. I suppose he was doing all the things I wished he’d done years ago. So why was I left with such a feeling of ambivalence towards him?

  “Well, it’s very tempting,” I said. “And, I’m sure it would be good to get away for a few days. But ... maybe next time.”

  Daniel shrugged, and we walked out the door.

  “Go on out to the car,” I said. “I forgot something.” I ducked back into the house, went into the kitchen, and looked down at the card of the grinning dog staring up at me from the trash. I reached down and slipped it into my purse, just in case.

  The end

  An Act of Deceit (Book 2)

  Jennifer L. Jennings

  Copyright © 2011

  Query Publishing, LLC

  This is a work of fiction.

  Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

  All rights reserved

  Chapter 1

  Wednesday, March 7

  3:15pm

  I noticed him scoping me out from clear across the room. Time to finish the glass of Pinot Noir I’d been nursing; my intuition told me he’d soon make his move. I reached inside my purse for a compact to check my lipstick. When I looked back up, he loomed large in my peripheral vision.

  “Buy you another?” a deep voice asked. Mr. Heavy Cologne wasted no time laying claim to the barstool next to mine.

  I turned to face the stranger. His blue eyes and stunning smile were enough to make most women melt. “Uh, that would be lovely.”

  “What was that you were drinking?” he asked.

  “Pinot Noir.”

  “A fine choice,” he replied, and turned to the bartender. “Bring us your best bottle of Pinot Noir.”

  I tucked a strand of dark brown hair behind my ear. “Wow. You sure know how to spoil a girl.”

  “Ha! You look like you’re all woman to me.”

  Apparently, no one had taught this guy the importance of first impressions. “I’m Joyce,” I said, my true identity none of his business.

  “I’m Marty … very nice to meet you, Joyce.”

  The bartender returned with a bottle of ‘05 Goldeneye. A moment later, Marty proposed a toast.

  “May we love as long as we live, and live as long as we love.”

  “Cheers.” I took a sip. “Thank you, Marty. This is a vast improvement over the glass of Pinot I just finished. It’s very generous of you.” I casually glanced around the Chestnut Inn’s fancy wine bar to ensure we were alone.

  “I come in here every Wednesday afternoon,” he said. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you before. Are you from out of town?”

  “Yes,” I replied, savoring the wine far more than the moment. “I’m here on business for a few days.” Lie number two.

  “What do you do?” he asked while swirling the wine in his glass. “Wait, let me guess. You’re a model.”

  How to respond to that? Did he think I was a complete airhead? “Nothing that exciting, I’m afraid. I work for an accounting firm out west. I flew in for a meeting with a big client. And what do you do, Marty?” I asked, eager to change the focus of the conversation. He seemed like the kind of guy who’d rather talk about himself, anyway.

  “Well, Joyce,” he said while leaning in close to me, “I could tell you what I do, but then I’d have to kill you.”

  Did men really still use that line? The serious expression on his face turned to apparent amusement when he encountered my blank stare. He threw his head back and erupted in raucous laughter. “Oh, that was precious. You should’ve seen the look on your face.” He continued to laugh until he was nearly out of breath.

  “You really had me going there for a second,” I said, forcing a smile.

  “I’m sorry, I ... I just couldn’t resist. Actually, I own a restaurant here in town called Marty’s. You’ve probably heard of it.”

  He’d named the restaurant after himself. What a shock. “Actually, I haven’t.”

  “Well, you really have to check it out sometime.”

  “What kind of restaurant?”

  “Fine seafood, but we serve a heck of a steak, too. Chef Philippe is world renowned.”

  “Sounds lovely,” I said.

  Marty’s eyes washed over me. “So, an attractive woman like you must be married. Am I right?”

  “I used to be.” I hid my left hand so the indentation caused by my missing wedding band wouldn’t give me away. “I’ve been single for several years now. And you?”

  Marty shrugged. “Separated. It’s a long story. I won’t bore you with it.”

  I had to sink my hooks into this guy. I took another sip then slowly massaged my temples. “Wow, this wine is really going to my head. I’m such a lightweight. I should probably eat something.”

  “They make a fantastic fruit and cheese plate,” he offered. “I’ll order one for us.”

  “Actually, I’m staying here and have some fruit up in my room. And I should probably lie down for a bit.” I placed my hand on his shoulder and his eyes grew wide. “Would you mind walking me up, Marty?”

  He polished off his wine and was on his feet before I could finish speaking.

  Minutes later, I fumbled with the key card, my heart racing. If this encounter didn’t go as planned, I wasn’t quite sure what I’d do.

  “Let me help you with that.” He took the card and inserted it in the slot: a beep and a click. He opened the door and motioned for me to enter.

  The small, inviting space I had reserved was a tasteful blend of old Victorian coupled with modern chic. The walls were papered in dark burgundy; rich eggplant drapes adorned the windows. The décor gave the room a romantic feel. I kicked off my shoes, took a few steps toward the four-poster bed, and positioned myself atop the plush, ivory duvet. “Get comfortable if you’d like.” I propped myself up on my elbows and gazed at Marty with a smile. My palms were sweating like crazy.

  “Thank you. I most certainly will.” Our eyes met as he loosened his tie and approached the bed. He started to unbutton his shirt. “You seem a little nervous, Joyce … everything OK?”

  Suddenly, a muffled noise from inside the bathroom drew his attention away. He snapped his head back toward me. “What is this?” he demanded. “Is someone else here?”

  I froze.

  Marty spun back around just as the bathroom door swung wide. A woman with dark, curly hair and a deep scowl emerged. A wave of relief immediately washed over me.

  “You son of a bitch,” the woman hissed, pointing her index finger at Marty as she marched right up in his face.

  “Honey? What ... what are you doing here? Look, baby, this isn’t what you--”

  A hard slap across the face abruptly ended his feeble attempt at an excuse. He winced and slowly shook his head.

  “Why?” she bellowed. “Why do you keep doing this? A divorce? Is that what you want?”

  “Of course not, baby.” He extended his hand.

  She smacked it away. “What’s it gonna take for you to stop screwing around on me? I’m sick of this shit!”

  “Please calm down,” he said. “Let’s go home and we’ll work this out.”

  “You have some kind of nerve telling me to calm down,” she shot back.

  The confrontation escalated. I decided there was no reason to linger, my obligation fulfilled. I grabbed my shoes and tiptoed across the room. As I pulled the door closed, I watched Marty’s wife drive her knee sharply into
his groin. He yelped and lurched forward, hands between his legs. I almost felt sorry for him.

  Almost.

  Chapter 2

  A feeling of relief washed over me as I exited the Chestnut Inn. A cold, hard winter rain fell as I darted across the street to a waiting, brown Buick. I opened the passenger door, sank into well-worn bucket seat, and let out a long sigh of relief.

  “So how’d it go?”

  “Just as you planned it,” I replied.

  “Good. How’d Janet handle it?”

  “Oh, is that Marty’s wife’s name? She was pissed to say the least.”

  Carter nodded. The silvery bristles on his chin sparkled as a smile formed on his weathered face. “Well … now she has proof her husband is a cheat, which is why she hired me. Congratulations, Sarah. You passed your first real assignment with flying colors. So tell me … do you think you’re cut out for this kind of work?”

  I pondered the question as he started the car and pulled out onto the main road. I’d met him a few months earlier through a mutual acquaintance. Carter, a private eye, had convinced me I might be useful in helping him with certain jobs. And private investigation gigs were plentiful in his area of specialization: infidelity.

  “I think I could get used to it just as long as your clients’ angry spouses don’t come after me,” I replied.

  “That’s only happened once in the last ten years. But then again I used to take unnecessary risks. I’m smarter these days. You can’t learn this business by taking a class or reading a book, Sarah. You gain experience by doing, and common sense goes a long way. If you trust me and follow my instructions, I think you’ll be fine.”

  “Thank you for the vote of confidence.” Carter’s words brought forth a realization: I was taking a leap of faith, uncertain what I was getting myself into. I found myself inexplicably drawn to the work. It made me feel alive knowing that what I was doing was a little dangerous.