Murder After Hours

by Rayna Morgan

  MURDER AFTER HOURS

  A Sister Sleuths Mystery

  Book Five

  Rayna Morgan

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  What people are saying about the Sister Sleuths:

  MURDER AT THE PIER

  “Great twists and turns”

  “Unique story line”

  “Well written with good character development”

  MURDER: ACT TWO

  “You’re in for a treat”

  “Characters are colorful, fun, interesting, and full of energy”

  “Entertaining and intriguing”

  MURDER WESTERN STYLE

  “As quick and deadly as a sidewinder”

  “A galloping good read”

  “Enjoyed from start to finish”

  THREE-DAY WEEKENDS ARE MURDER

  “Excellent pace with excitement throughout”

  “Details and motivation are real and driven”

  “Loved characters, story line and development”

  THE NUT CASE: Prequel Novella

  “Couldn’t put it down”

  “Realistic characters and plenty of action”

  “Excellent book, well written”

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Free Book

  Sister Sleuths Mysteries Box Set

  Other Books in the Sister Sleuths Mystery Series

  From the Author

  Copyright Notice

  Chapter One

  Sandra watched with little enthusiasm as her husband’s truck entered the parking lot. Coming to her office meant he needed something. Either money, or to tell her he was going drinking with his buddies. She turned her attention to her computer.

  His entrance received a more enthusiastic response from the woman sitting across from her.

  “Hi, Henry. Here to take your wife to dinner?” Donna asked. She hoped her suggestion might resonate for a change.

  His response surprised them both. “Exactly what I’m here to do.”

  He leaned over Sandra’s chair, kissing the back of her neck.

  “What do you say, baby? How about Tony’s for lasagna?”

  Sandra’s response was biting. “I expected you to ask for money. It’s almost the end of the month. You’re usually broke by now.”

  Henry’s smile faded, diminishing his boyish good looks. He removed his baseball cap and ran a hand through curly brown hair. Pushing aside a stack of folders, he sat on the corner of Sandra’s desk.

  “I finished the landscaping at the Haroldson estate. The old man paid me in full. I’m flush, baby. Let’s go celebrate.”

  She shook her head as she rearranged the folders he’d messed.

  “I’m helping Donna with one of her big accounts. Her client’s insurance policies are up for renewal. She wants to make sure the company renews with us.”

  As office manager of Alexander Insurance Agency, Sandra was responsible for assisting agents, as well as maintaining customer accounts and establishing office procedures.

  Donna looked up to protest.

  “Go ahead, Sandra. We’re nearly finished. Besides, invitations from your hubby don’t come often.”

  Henry flashed a smile that earned him a reputation as a flirt.

  “Are you helping me, Donna, or putting me down?”

  Henry and Donna looked expectantly at Sandra, but she wasn’t ready to give in.

  “Have you paid Shorty for his work this week? Before you start throwing money around, I want to know he’s taken care of.”

  Her reference was to the single employee Henry could afford. The one who did most of the work while he sweet-talked customers.

  “Sure, baby. You don’t give me credit for anything,” he whined.

  “I give you the credit you deserve. Without my scheduling your jobs, doing the billing, and ordering supplies, that landscape business of yours would fail.”

  A wadded piece of paper landed on Sandra's desk. Donna drew back her hand and laughed.

  “Give the guy a break. Go on you two. Get out of here.”

  Sandra knew her co-worker was trying to be helpful, but she’d rather not go.

  Henry’s attempts to make nice are too little, too late, she thought.

  Reluctantly, she pushed her chair back and grabbed her purse.

  “I’ll go for one drink at the Cave.

  “That’s more like it,” Henry said.

  He tried to wrap his arm around his wife’s shoulder, but she moved away from him.

  On her way out, she looked at Donna. “I’ll be back soon to help you finish.”

  “Take your time,” the woman replied.

  A gray haired, slender man in his fifties opened the door of an inner office.

  “Where are you going?” asked Ian Alexander, the owner of the agency.

  “I came to take my wife to dinner, but she turned me down,” Henry responded. “At least, she’s agreed to a drink.”

  “If it makes you feel better, I’ll meet you at the sports bar for a burger,” Ian said. “I realize I’m not as attractive a dinner companion, but I’ll buy.”

  “You’re on,” Henry agreed. “I’ll see you in an hour.”

  Ian watched the couple climb into Henry’s truck.

  “Things any better between those two?” he asked the agent.

  “They might be, if he’d stop thinking he’s God’s gift to women. If he’s not careful, the tables might turn on him.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The fact you have to ask shows how clueless men are about women.”

  “Being clueless about women is one thing us guys know for certain.”

  • • •

  Ian closed the door. Instead of returning to his desk, he stood at the window watching tail lights stream away from the building. He reached for his phone and punched in a number.

  “My office manager knows what we’ve been up to,” he blurted when his call was answered. “She’s upset because I’ve involved Henry.”

  There was a pause, followed by an even, controlled voice. “What did she say?”

  “You can hear for yourself,” Ian replied.

  He opened the top drawer, pulled out a small recording device, and played the tape of an earlier meeting. Near the end, he turned up the volume.

  “Keep him out of it or I’ll expose your dirty little scheme.”

  Ian shut off the device.

  “Have she and Henry talked?” the voice asked.

  �
��I don’t think so. He would have said something.”

  “How did she find out?”

  Ian’s temper flared. “How would I know? She’s smart, the reason she’s a valued employee. Obviously, she’s put two and two together.”

  “You’re the numbers whiz, but I don’t like the way this adds up.”

  “Neither do I,” Ian agreed. “It’s time to quit.”

  “And leave money on the table? No way. Not until we dispose of the goods. Pull yourself together. Do you want me to come over and talk with her? I’ll straighten her out in a hurry.”

  “She’s gone for drinks, but you should stay out of it. I’ll keep an eye on her. Besides, she may not be around much longer.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “When I told her false accusations were grounds for dismissal, she laughed. Said before long, she’d be able to tell me to take my job and shove it.”

  “What did she mean?”

  “That’s all she said. I asked Donna later if Sandra was considering resigning. All Donna heard was some far-fetched story about Sandra coming into enough money to stop working.”

  “For her sake and yours, you better hope that story is true.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “Consider it as you will. You know I won’t stand for loose ends, let alone loose cannons.”

  The phone went dead.

  Ian sat back, massaging his temples. He felt a headache coming on. Without thinking, he pushed the button to hear the remaining tape. Once again, he listened to the words from Sandra which had given him pause earlier.

  Unless, of course, you’d like to cut me in.

  He erased the tape and reached for a bottle of pills.

  • • •

  Henry parked the truck in a strip center on Center Drive. He took Sandra’s arm and steered her through the arched entry of The Cave.

  The rustic wine and cheese bar got its name from stucco walls and recessed lighting which cast shadows to resemble torches in a cave. Casks lined the wall behind the reception desk. Glass cases displayed bottles of vintage wine. Candles gave off a warming glow and filled the air with the sweet scent of cinnamon.

  Couples took up most of the stools surrounding tall, mahogany tables. One man, sitting alone, tapped his phone as he sipped a drink. At the large center table was a group of ten, probably straight from work. Low murmurs of conversation coupled with occasional bursts of laughter echoed through the room.

  The hostess seated Henry and Sandra at the last open table and presented them with a wine and appetizer list.

  Sandra watched her husband study the menu as if he knew one wine from another. She knew he’d end up ordering the cheap chardonnay.His usual taste ran to beer or tequila.

  She didn’t want to think about his drinking tequila. Those were the times she dreaded. Liquor brought out a mean side which made him strike out on more than one occasion.

  When the waitress returned, Sandra ordered burgundy from her favorite vineyard and a cheese plate. Glancing around, she barely listened as Henry rattled on.

  “Haroldson’s wife kept adding things to the original plans. A pond with a fountain, then a bridge. It ended up costing a nice chunk of change.”

  “It’s only another excuse for her to spend money,” Sandra said. “I don’t know how often she redecorates, and she’s a shopaholic to boot.”

  “I’m lucky to have a frugal wife.” He lifted his glass as a tribute. “One who brings home a paycheck. This economy has been rough on my business. When owners improve their home now, they fix up the inside without worrying about the landscape.”

  Here he goes, Sandra thought. Giving reasons for his work not panning out. Like his previous attempts as car salesman, boat broker, and tour company operator.

  She’d heard his excuses before. Unwilling to listen, she changed the subject.

  “What’s going on with you and my boss? You've been chummy ever since Ian hired you to plant a garden at his house.” Her voice became cold. “It’s not as though you two could ever be friends. You’re not in the same class.”

  Henry winced. His wife’s comments could be biting. He knew it was her straightforward manner, but some people found it offensive.

  “Ian’s throwing work my way. I never turn down a chance to make money.”

  “I won't argue about increasing your income.”

  Henry glanced over her shoulder. “Speaking of arguing…”

  Sandra followed his line of vision. Her jaw tightened at the sight of the person walking toward them.

  The woman’s beauty, hourglass figure, and bubbly personality drew all eyes as she moved through the tables, nodding to admirers along the way.

  Henry stood to hug the blond-haired woman before pulling out a chair. “If it isn’t Brooke Fields, our favorite KETV newscaster.”

  “Weathercaster, not newscaster.” Sandra’s lips turned into a sneer as she corrected her husband.

  Brooke accepted Henry’s embrace, holding him a moment longer than necessary before taking a seat.

  “I was leaving when I saw you enter. I can’t stay, but it would be unfriendly to go without saying hello.”

  “When did you worry about being a friend?” Sandra asked.

  Brooke reached in front of Henry for a slice of cheese, her breast brushing his arm. She held his eyes and laughed, making him blush just as she had in high school.

  She took a sip from Sandra’s wine.

  “My favorite,” she said.

  “Don’t bother asking,” Sandra mumbled.

  Brooke ignored the complaint. Her smile widened. “I don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind about joining our group of like-minded individuals? We’re having a get-together this weekend. The theme is famous couples in crime.”

  “You mean Bonnie and Clyde?” Henry asked, sounding like a kid excited for a costume party.

  “My husband and I are going as Bugsy Siegel and Virginia Hill.”

  Sandra turned on Brooke, knowing she wasn’t in a position to judge but unable to stop.

  “It's too bad if Randy isn’t enough for you. That’s no excuse. Leave women’s husbands alone.”

  Her elevated voice caused others to stare but she continued.

  “Doesn’t strutting in front of a TV camera wearing tight sweaters satisfy your craving for male attention?”

  The wine glass froze on its way to Brooke’s lips. “I didn't know my actions fail to meet with your approval.”

  Sandra lowered her voice. “Where do you stash your children during your parties?”

  Brooke’s eyes narrowed to points like daggers. “Don’t you dare imply I’m not a good mother!”

  Henry leaned between the two women.

  “Back off, Sandra. I’m sure Brooke makes suitable arrangements.”

  “Thank you,” Brooke said, placing a hand on his arm.

  She turned to Sandra. “For your information, the kids stay with my parents. It’s a treat for all of us. We get a break from parenting and they get spoiled rotten at Grandma’s.”

  “Sounds like a win-win,” Henry agreed, as he tried to lift his gaze to a spot anywhere above her neck.

  “I’m no more interested in your familial arrangements than I am in joining your group,” Sandra said.

  Brooke snorted. “You two are turning into a stuffy, boring married couple.”

  Sandra wanted to throw her drink on the woman. She threw words instead.

  “What if news got out about what you do when you aren’t on the air? I doubt the executives at your precious TV station would want that kind of publicity.”

  Brooke’s face went pale as she bit her lower lip. The women glared at each other until Brooke turned away and the moment passed.

  As Henry reached for the bill, Brooke covered his hand with hers.

  “What do you say? You could come by yourself.”

  “Forget it, Brooke. He’s not interested,” Sandra said firmly.

  She grabbed her purse. “Let’s go, H
enry. I need to get back to the office.”

  Brooke shrugged. “Your loss.”

  She waved as she sashayed toward the door, an ever-present smile plastered on her face.

  • • •

  Sandra noticed a grin playing across Henry’s lips as they drove away from The Cave.

  “What’s so amusing?”

  “The way Brooke pushes your buttons. It never fails. Put you two in the same room and the claws come out.”

  “I can’t help it. She’s so irritating. She says things with the sole purpose of making me angry. Asking us to take part in her little soiree when we've refused before.” She glanced sideways. “Unless you haven’t always turned her down.”

  “Whoa, don’t get mad at me. You know I’m not into that scene.”

  “There have been nights when you worked late.”

  “During the summer hours. Now that days are shorter, you’ll see more of me at night.” He threw a hostile look in her direction. “Or do you even care? We talk more when we’re out for a drink than when we’re home alone.”

  “You’re always watching sports on television.”

  “And you’re walking or jogging around the neighborhood.”

  She defended her actions. “I’m not outdoors like you all day. I need the exercise.”

  At the stoplight, he turned to face her.

  “Is that Nathan’s excuse as well?”

  Her stomach flip-flopped. She held her breath.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve seen you two walking down the street together.”

  “At least I can converse without wanting to strangle him, the way I feel when I talk to Brooke,” she said, eager to divert his attention.

  The light turned green. She exhaled as he stepped on the gas.

  “She doesn’t affect others that way,” he said. “Her show is highly rated and she’s popular at public appearances. You're one of the few people she doesn’t get along with. It’s your chemistry. You trigger something that brings out the worst in each other.”

  “What do you know about it?”

  “It happened to me in high school with Duane Johnson.”

  “I remember him, the star receiver on our football team. You were touted as two of the best players in the state. You and Duane didn’t get along?”

  “We had no problems on the field. Inside the locker room, we couldn’t stand each other.”