Sarah Woods Mystery Series (1-6) Boxed Set Page 12

  “So … what does your family know about me?” Carter asked.

  “Actually, I haven’t gotten around to telling them yet.”

  He shot me a look of surprise. “When do you think you’ll get around to it?”

  “I’ve been waiting for the right opportunity. Daniel will probably send me to the loony bin when he finds out.”

  “You should clue him in soon. The last thing I need is an awkward confrontation with your husband.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about Daniel. He’s away on business most of the time. My sixteen year old son is rarely around either. He has a girlfriend now, so I’m lucky if I see him at all these days.” I lost myself in thought for a moment then added “I’m only doing massage therapy part time now. The extra money I make working with you will come in mighty handy.”

  Carter chuckled. “I think your experience in the massage business is gonna benefit us.”

  “Really? How so?”

  He scratched his chin and hesitated. “Well, you’re already comfortable around naked men, for starters.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Okay, that didn’t come out right. What I meant to say is that you’re comfortable around men in intimate settings. Like today in that hotel room with Marty. Not everyone could’ve pulled that off.”

  “I suppose you’re right. I never really thought of it that way.”

  A moment later, Carter wheeled into the local Home Depot where I’d parked, pulled up next to my car, and shifted into park.

  “So tell me … why don’t you have an office somewhere?” I asked. “I know renting space is expensive, but how do you meet with prospective clients? Do you invite them into your car for a meeting?”

  Carter sniffed and chuckled under his breath. “My work comes through referrals, so I don’t need an office. That’s what coffee shops are for.”

  “I get it. It’s all part of your mysterious, secret agent persona.”

  Carter laughed as he extended a hand and placed a cell phone in my lap. “That’s so I can get in touch with you for the next job.”

  “Damn. I was hoping we could send coded messages through the mail. This seems way too conventional.”

  “It has a pretty decent camera in case you need it.”

  “Will it self-destruct if it falls into the wrong hands?”

  “I’m sure you’d like to get paid,” he said, apparently dismissing my attempt at levity. He reached inside his jacket, pulled out a plain white envelope, and handed it to me.

  I opened the flap and took note of the two crisp one hundred dollar bills. I folded the envelope and slipped it into my purse. “Thanks,” I said. “When can I expect to hear from you again?”

  “Soon.”

  Chapter 3

  I found my son Brian and his first real girlfriend Allie snuggled on the couch when I got home. It seemed as though I had suddenly ceased to exist in Brian’s eyes.

  “You two had anything to eat yet?” I asked, interrupting their quiet chatter.

  “Yeah, Mom. We had dinner at Allie’s.”

  “Guess I’m on my own tonight,” I said, fully aware my comment would be ignored. I passed through the kitchen, took an apple from the counter, devoured it, and threw the core in the trash. I continued on to my bedroom, peeled off my clothes, and took a quick shower. The hot water felt cathartic, washing away a nasty pall the hotel encounter left me with. I got into a comfy pair of PJs and slid under the covers, remote in hand. I switched on the TV, tuned in the local news channel, and let my head sink back into the pillow.

  Adventure and exhaustion weighed my eyelids down as I listened to the weather forecast. They were predicting freezing rain changing over to snow; possibly a foot of the white stuff. I wondered what had led me to settle in Bridgeport, New Hampshire as I drifted off.

  Chapter 4

  Thursday, March 8

  It was around seven when I got out of bed, threw on a robe, and made my way toward the kitchen to make coffee. Brian walked in just as I tipped some heavenly ground coffee and hot water into my French press.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Morning,” I said, handing him a banana. “Off to school?”

  “Yup.” He peeled the fruit and ingested a third of it in one bite. “Okay if I have dinner at Allie’s again tonight?”

  “That’s the second time this week. Why don’t you invite her to have dinner here instead?”

  Brian’s big blues studied me as he swallowed. “Cuz.”

  “Cuz why?”

  “Cuz you’re not the best cook, Mom. No offense.”

  I crossed my arms and glared at him. “What about my meatloaf? You love that.”

  “Allie’s a vegetarian.”

  “Well, I can make something without meat. How about my homemade macaroni and cheese?”

  “She doesn’t eat cheese or dairy products, either. Her parents are animal rights activists.”

  I raised my hands in defeat. “Well, excuse me.”

  “So, is it okay if I eat at her house?”

  I sighed. “By all means.”

  “Thanks, Mom. See ya later.” The outside door banged shut and I was left alone in the kitchen with my French roast. The reality that my one and only son was growing up resolved into crystal clarity. There’d be no more cozy weekends cuddled on the couch watching movies together. The fact that he was now into girls changed everything.

  I swallowed the rest of my coffee, on the verge of tears. I needed to snap out of it and get a new perspective. This didn’t need to be a depressing moment. It was the beginning of a new life for me. And with Daniel gone most of the time, I didn’t have to answer to anyone. I could call my own shots and be spontaneous.

  This gig with Carter gave me the renewed sense of purpose I so desperately needed. He’d given me a chance to prove to myself that I was more than just a mother, wife, and massage therapist. I had an opportunity to reinvent myself and take risks I never would have, otherwise.

  I set my empty mug in the sink, let go a deep sigh, and headed toward the bathroom. I took a shower, dressed, fixed my hair, and put on some makeup.

  I felt a small pang of guilt as I left my house: I was actually looking forward to my new life.

  Chapter 5

  I arrived at my massage studio with all the enthusiasm of a high school janitor on his way to fetch a plunger. I checked my appointment book: three, sixty-minute sessions, all with regular clients. I should have been thankful; I loved my clients, but the work was wearing on me. My temporary receptionist Sam would be in soon. Sam was my surrogate uncle; a widower, retired mailman, and undefeated bowling champion. He’d been a close friend of my mom’s prior to her death. Sammy, as I preferred to call him, was closer to me than most of my extended family. He had taken it upon himself to be my protector. Not particularly fond of Daniel, he seemed to put up with him for my sake, but never missed an opportunity to inform me that I could have done better. Sometimes I agreed with him.

  I looked up as he walked in. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning to you, my dear.” He strode directly over to me. His groomed goatee tickled my face as he kissed both my cheeks. “You’re here bright and early.” He set his computer bag on the desk then removed his hat and coat and hung them in the closet.

  “Yeah, well, I was starting to feel sorry for myself because my son has basically disowned me. He’d rather spend time at his girlfriend’s house … eating vegan, no less. I never thought I’d see the day.”

  “Hey,” he said, resting a hand on my shoulder, “Brian will always need you, no matter how old he is or who he spends time with. Your husband, on the other hand, well--”

  “I’ve decided to take it all in stride,” I said, cutting off any discussion about Daniel. “I won’t waste another minute of my life on self-pity. What good would it do, anyway?”

  “That’s my girl. By the way”-he withdrew a newspaper from his computer bag-“thought you might like to read this article in the morning paper.”


  “Thanks.”

  “It’s about a local woman who decided to change careers. At fifty-three, she went back to school and got her PhD. Can you believe that? I thought it might inspire you.”

  “To do what? Become a doctor?”

  “No,” he said, laughing. “You mentioned recently that you were thinking of making a career change. This might encourage you to find your passion and act upon it.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I think you missed your calling, Sammy. You should have been a motivational speaker.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “So how are things working out here? You like being my secretary?” He’d stood firm in his refusal to accept payment for helping me out, insisting that he needed something to keep him busy.

  “It’s better than sitting alone inside my house. And now I get to see more of you.” He sat down at the desk and opened his laptop. His fingers danced over the keys. “I know you hired me for my good looks, but I have a brain, too. Check this out.” Sammy tilted the laptop toward me. “I was able to get all your client info uploaded to this new program last night. It’ll streamline your operation; it even automatically e-mails clients to remind them of their appointments.”

  “Great. Speaking of appointments,” I said, patting him on the shoulder, “I’d better make sure the room is ready.”

  “By the way,” Sam called after me as I had started down the hall. “Yesterday, after you left, a young gentleman stopped by to see you. When I told him you were out he said he’d come back another time. Didn’t want to leave a message, or his name, for that matter.”

  I stopped in my tracks and turned. “What did he look like?”

  “Oh, brownish-blonde hair. Green eyes. Looked pretty fit.”

  “He wouldn’t say who he was?”

  “No, but I remember he smelled good.”

  “What do you mean? His cologne?”

  “He smelled like the woods.”

  “Like pine needles?”

  “Exactly. You know who he is?”

  “I have a pretty good idea.” It was Max Stevens. I was sure of it.

  “Well? Who is he?”

  “No one, really. Just a guy I know.”

  “Well, he seemed pretty disappointed when I told him you’d left for the day.”

  I glanced at my watch. “Oh gosh. I need to get my room ready. Chuck will be here in five minutes.” I turned away from Sam’s dubious stare and continued down the hall.

  Max Stevens was back in town. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Three months earlier, in the wake of his sister’s murder, we’d been thrown together in the midst of the ensuing police investigation. Emotions ran high, and one night after dinner, he’d kissed me. I hadn’t done much to stop him, flattered that he’d found me attractive. But there’d been more to it than that, and I knew it.

  He and his English bulldog Marsha Brady had left abruptly for a cross-country road trip.

  Apparently, he was back.

  After readying the massage room, I returned to the reception area to find Sammy on the phone. “That was Chuck,” he said as he hung up the phone. “He had to cancel.”

  “Damn it!” I planted my hands on my hips. The next appointment wasn’t for two hours, and I’d already cleaned the place and organized everything. What was I going to do in the interim? After a moment, I said “Let’s go out for coffee.”

  Sammy looked up at me. “But I just got here. What if someone calls for an appointment?”

  “They can leave a message.” I beckoned with two fingers and smiled.

  He sighed and retrieved his hat and coat from the closet.

  We walked two blocks to a nearby coffee shop, ordered two house blends, and found a small table.

  “Well?” Sammy thrust his chin towards me. “What’s going on? You seem anxious.”

  “I don’t want to unload on you.”

  “Nonsense. Out with it.”

  “It’s just that, well, you know the guy who came in looking for me?”

  He nodded and sipped his coffee, eyebrows raised.

  “It’s hard to explain.” I looked around the café absently. “He’s the brother of the woman who was murdered.”

  “Okay.”

  “Well … we became friends, but then it went a little further.” I hesitated and looked down at my coffee cup. I couldn’t believe I was spilling this information. “There was a kiss.”

  Sammy smiled and nodded. “I see.”

  “Problem is, I think we were beginning to develop feelings for each other. But then he left and I figured it was over. It couldn’t have continued anyway. Plus, he’s young.”

  “Didn’t seem that young to me. What does he do for a living?”

  “He used to own a surveillance company that sold tracking devices and security equipment.”

  Sammy chuckled. “Sounds sexy.”

  “He sold the business. I’m not sure what he’s up to now.”

  “Call him and find out.”

  I leaned back and crossed my legs. “Part of me doesn’t want to know.”

  “But the other part won’t be able to rest until you do.”

  He was so right. “I’ll think about it.”

  “So.” He set his cup on the table and his demeanor became serious. “Does this mean your marriage is in trouble?”

  I shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. Daniel and I have grown apart. I think we stay together because of Brian. But he’s off to college next year, so--”

  “Have you ever suspected him of cheating?”

  The blunt question threw me off balance. I’d never told him about my husband’s Internet lover known only as Rita68. I’d seen provocative photos of her one day while sneaking a peek at his computer.

  Sammy shook his head when I didn’t respond. “I never wanted to say anything but, I never trusted him to begin with.”

  “Oh really?”

  “There are people you can hire to find out if you really want to know.” Sammy pointed a finger at me. “You need to protect yourself.”

  “I appreciate your concern, Sammy, I really do. But it’s not necessary.” Or, maybe I just didn’t care.

  “Well”-Sammy waved a hand-“if you need the name of someone, let me know.”

  “Need someone? You mean a divorce lawyer?”

  “A private investigator.”

  “How would you know someone like that? Did you suspect Elaine of cheating on you?”

  Sammy and Elaine had been the happiest couple I’d ever known. When she’d died three years ago, Sammy had proclaimed he would never love another woman.

  “God, no. But I had a friend who hired a female detective out of Boston. Sharp as a tack. Want her number?”

  “Thanks, no.” I looked down at my mug, took a sip of coffee, and tried to think of a way to change the subject. It occurred to me that maybe I should fill him in on my dealings with Carter, but wasn’t sure how he’d react: admonish me for my stupidity, or give me a high five? I decided to take a different tack.

  “That’s it, Sammy,” I said, remembering the newspaper article in my purse. I took it out and waved it in the air. “I’m going to change careers. And guess what? I’m going back to school.”

  “Fantastic. What’re you going to do?”

  “Take courses in criminal justice and become a private investigator.”

  The blank look on Sammy’s face suggested he hadn’t heard me until he slowly smiled. “You have quite a sense of humor, my dear. You’re just like your mother that way.”

  “Seriously. What if I did?”

  “Other than having read Nancy Drew books as a kid, what makes you think you’d enjoy that?”

  “Well.” I placed my index finger on my lower lip. “It would certainly be a change of pace.”

  “Skydiving would be a change of pace.”

  “Seriously, Sammy, I think it would be interesting. Maybe I’ll look into it.” I flattened the newspaper he’d given me when a photo caught my attention.
I looked closer. Were my eyes deceiving me? I read the headline and my body tensed. Sam must have noticed.

  “What is it?”

  “This guy on the front page,” I said, pointing to the photo. “Did you read this article?”

  “Yeah. Poor sap got run over as he crossed the street. Guess he was a local celebrity of sorts. Owned some fancy restaurant in town.”

  “He got hit while crossing the road? Where?”

  “I don’t remember. There weren’t many details. The article was basically about the guy’s illustrious career, how his restaurant was featured on the food network, blah, blah, blah.”

  “Was it a hit and run?”

  Sammy pursed his lips and shook his head. “I don’t remember.”

  I quickly scanned the article under the snapshot of Marty’s smug face. Sammy was right. There were few details.

  “Did you know the guy?” Sammy asked.

  I nodded. “Sort of.” I folded the paper up and stuffed it back into my purse. “Let’s head back to the office. I have some calls to make.”

  “Fine by me.”

  Ten minutes later, in my massage room, I realized I was holding my breath as I waited for Carter to pick up the phone. Then I heard his voice.

  “Sarah?”

  “Carter, have you read this morning’s paper?”

  “No, why?”

  “Marty’s dead.”

  “What?”

  “He was hit by a van sometime after we left him yesterday.”

  “Run over?”

  “Why do I have a bad feeling about this?”

  Carter seemed to hesitate before responding. “Bad feeling about what?”

  “Do you think Janet,” I began, but wasn’t able to finish the thought.

  “Do I think Janet killed him? Is that what you’re asking me?”

  “Well, she was furious with him yesterday. We have no way of knowing what went down once we left.”

  “Sarah”-Carter sighed audibly-“you’re jumping to conclusions. People get hit by cars all the time. It was probably an accident.”