“Okay, you made your point,” I said with a hint of defensiveness. I had been jerking off too much and not washing my hands enough. The films we’d watched in school about safe sex had me convinced the burning sensation when I urinated was from an STD and not from bacteria caused by bad hygiene. My two besties cackled like hyenas. “There’s nothing funny about STDs,” I said firmly. Or my naivety when I was younger.
“Of course not,” Mere said after she had a good laugh. “I’m just lightening the mood, honey.” She covered Chaz’s hands with hers, and I laid mine over the top of both. “Tell us what’s been going on, love.”
“Please, please don’t be mad at me for not telling you about this sooner. I never thought my late-night activities would develop into something worth discussing,” Chaz said.
“Oh my God! You’re dating Dr. Do Me,” Mere said giddily. “I knew it!”
“No, but that’s what I thought too,” I told her.
“Damn,” Meredith said. “You have me stumped then.”
Chaz took a deep breath, held it, and released it slowly. “Okay, um, I don’t know how to say this except to blurt it out there.” He paused for dramatic effect then said, “I wrote a book,” in a rush so it sounded like one word. “And Kyle is also part of my confession.”
“You wrote a book?” I asked.
“What kind of book?” Meredith wanted to know. “And how does it involve the good doctor?”
Chaz pulled his hands from beneath the pile and rose from his chair. “I am the guy he was gaming with,” he said while he paced my polished floors. “I’m the guy he’s been wanting to meet.”
“I have so many questions that I don’t know where to start,” I said to Chaz.
“Ditto,” Mere said softly beside me.
“Okay, we’ll save the book talk for last because it’s the best part. I joined the online gaming community for research purposes for my book,” Chaz said. “I never expected in a million years that one of the guys I played on a team with was Kyle. Anyway, I, um, got what I needed from the late-night games and chats then shut down my account and focused on writing my book.”
“Chats?” Mere asked. “Like phone calls or text messages?”
“More like a private messenger program for gamers. You can chat in groups or individually and I spent more than a usual amount of time chatting up Kyle. It’s how I knew who I was talking to, not that he tried to hide anything.”
“What was his username?” I asked out of curiosity.
“Doc Paws,” Chaz whispered. “Cute, right? Anyway,” he said before I could respond, “he talked about moving back to his small hometown to take over a veterinary practice and a few other things that gave him away to me.”
“Like what?” Mere asked. “There are a lot of small town vets out there.”
“Not many of them have a detective for an ex-boyfriend who’s moved on with his life with a salon owner,” Chaz said.
“Oh,” I said. “Is Kyle truly okay with Gabe and me or is he pretending?”
“He’s honestly fine with it. He mentioned that he and his ex just weren’t meant to be, but he hoped to find a love like his ex-boyfriend found someday. See, you and Gabe have become our relationship goals,” Chaz said. I scoffed at him, but Meredith nodded that he was right.
“Okay, so you were playing games and chatting up Dr. Dimples. Why then were you saying that the guy he was looking for wasn’t you? Why pretend you weren’t the one he was spending time with?” I asked.
“Yeah, what he asked,” Mere said with a nod. “You outright lied to us. Why?”
“I created a fake account and pretended to be someone I wasn’t for research purposes so in essence he wasn’t chatting and falling for me. He fell for fake me,” Chaz said. “Damn, it hurts too.” He rubbed his hand over his heart as if that could ease the pain he felt. “To entertain the thought that someone like him could fall for someone like me was… Let’s just say it was cruel.”
“Honey, I think you’re being unjustly hard on yourself here. What parts about you did you make up?” she asked.
“Age and career,” Chaz answered. “Hobbies too.”
“Okay, but we’ve seen Kyle interact with the real you. He doesn’t have any problem with your career—well, the one he knows about anyway—or your age. You both clearly have the same taste in television shows and video games,” I told Chaz.
“Yeah,” Chaz said softly. “I just don’t see it working out for us long term. I wish I had the confidence that the two of you have, but I don’t.” He looked down at his feet for several long moments so he didn’t see Mere and I exchange scheming glances. “Anyway, who wants to hear about my book?”
“Me!” Mere and I both chimed in, our matchmaking thoughts put temporarily on hold.
“When can we read it?” I asked.
“How long did it take you to write it?” Mere questioned.
We peppered him with several more questions before he could even answer the first ones. Finally, he stopped trying. He just stood in my kitchen and shook with laughter over our excitement for him. Once we’d run out of breath, he said, “It was something I’ve always wanted to do. I wrote fan fiction short stories about a boy band we all loved in junior high but never shared them with anyone. One night last year, I just decided to write a damn book. I never expected to finish it, let alone publish it.”
“Publish it?” Meredith and I asked at the same time.
“You mean it’s already done and published?” Mere questioned.
“And you’re just now telling us about it? Why wouldn’t you let us read it first?” I asked Chaz.
“I thought I was going to be laughed at when I released the book and I didn’t want you to know my humiliation,” Chaz told us.
“Honey, we’re best friends. Your humiliation is our humiliation,” Mere said tenderly. “Wait, that didn’t sound right, did it?” Chaz and I shook our heads. “You know what I mean. We’re here for you for the long haul, not just for the giggles and good times. So what happened when you published your book?”
“It became a best seller,” Chaz said giddily. “I still can’t believe it. Now people are emailing me and asking when the next book will be and how many there will be in the series. Can you believe that people want to read something that I wrote?”
I crossed my arms over my chest, still peeved that I hadn’t had inside information on this. Hell, I was besties with a best-selling author and didn’t even know it! “Well, it’s hard to say since I haven’t read anything you’ve written,” I said.
“Oh, but you have,” Chaz said with a wicked smile.
“What? I haven’t read a book since…” Then it hit me! Sally Ann had come into the salon for a trim and told us all about the hot new gay romance book she was reading. Chaz had choked and coughed, but I thought he had just swallowed his drink down wrong or something.
“You’re C.B. Hesterson,” I said. Chaz smiled when it sounded like an accusation. “C.B. stands for Charles Bailey and Hesterson is your mother’s maiden name.”
“Yep, that’s me,” he said proudly.
“Chaz, that’s so amazing. All Josh talked about for days was that book,” Meredith said. “I meant to buy it, but I’ve been busy.”
“I just bet,” Chaz said with a lecherous wink. “You don’t have time to be reading romance when you’re making your own.”
“That’s what you think, doll face,” Meredith said, as she whipped out her phone and started typing. “I’m going to start this baby, tonight.”
“Thank you,” Chaz said to Meredith then looked at me. “Back to your business proposal, Jazz. I will gladly help you manage the salon for now while you expand your business, but there could come a time where I want to work part time or maybe even focus on writing full time if things work out for me the way I hope they do.”
“Sweetie, that would be amazing,” I said, going to him for a hug. “I’ll take whatever you can give me, and I promise to be supportive when you need to focus o
n your writing or even if you leave me altogether. Just promise me that you’ll never miss a Sunday dinner.”
“That’s a promise I can easily keep,” he told me.
“Good thing too. Gabe decided I was having an apple pie bake-off against Dorchester’s wife on Sunday. I need all the votes I can get.” It was then that I realized that Meredith had gone completely silent. The smile slid from my face when I turned to her and saw the hurt expression in her eyes. “What’s wrong, Mere?”
“You’ve decided to expand your business?” she asked with a raised brow and a tone that said she wasn’t amused. “When were you going to mention this to me?”
“I was going to call you later because there’s more to the story. I needed to talk to Chaz first because his answer was the deciding factor on how quickly I could pull it off,” I explained.
“He and Gabe are buying a house together and are going to revamp this space to meet the spa needs so he can use the entire first floor for salon services. More stations and stylists. He wants me to manage the business so he can focus on filming his segments for the news channel and remodeling the business.”
“Is that right,” Meredith asked Chaz. “Where is he moving to?”
“He didn’t say,” Chaz responded. “Care to tell us where you and the detective are moving?”
“Georgia’s mansion,” I told them. They just blinked at me, and I knew they were wondering just how in the hell we were going to afford it. I wasn’t comfortable talking about mine and Gabe’s financial situation, and even if I had been, I didn’t have anything to share since I was still kind of in the dark. “We’re still working out the details.”
“Bet you’re getting a good price since Georgia…” Chaz let his words trail off when he realized what he was about to say.
“Probably haunted, which is what you deserve for not telling me about your plans,” Meredith said snarkily. She didn’t back down or use kid gloves when handling anyone.
“You guys want to hear about how I plan to decorate or not?” I asked.
“Duh!” they both said. And just like that, everything was back to normal.
My first impression of County Prosecutor Pamela Buxton was that she was a woman who worked her ass off to reach the office she’d been elected to serve. She walked proudly into the conference room and projected confidence in every gesture, reminding me of a certain someone that I loved madly.
“Detective Wyatt,” she said, shaking my hand firmly. “It’s good to meet you finally.”
“And you, ma’am,” I replied with a nod.
“It’s good to see you again, John,” she said to Dorchester. It was obvious by her casual greeting that they were familiar with one another. I glanced over at him briefly then did a double take because he blushed slightly. Dorchester was brash and bold, not a blusher. There was a story there, and I’d be damn sure to find out what it was. Lord knew he didn’t hesitate to harass me at every turn about Silver and Paul hitting on me. Turnabout is fair play, buddy.
“You too, Pam,” Dorchester said softly. “How are your folks?”
“Same as ever. Mom’s struggling with my dad being home all the time now that he’s retired. He messes up her routine, and she doesn’t like it.” She sighed and shook her head in humor. “How about your folks?”
“They’re doing well. They had the same adjustment problems when they both retired a few years back. Now they split their time between their second home in Arizona and here. They’re never gone more than two months at a time because Mom misses the grandkids too bad,” Dorchester answered.
Pam’s expression softened at the mention of his children. “You have a lovely family, John. I’m happy for you.”
“Thank you, Pam. I’m happy for you also. You’ve kicked some ass to get the life you wanted,” Dorchester said, looking proud of her.
“Yes, well it hasn’t been easy, and I had to make a lot of sacrifices along the way. Some hurt more than others, but I think things worked out the way they were intended,” Prosecutor Buxton said.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Dorchester replied.
I looked back and forth between them, feeling like I was stuck on the set of some television drama. My excitement to tell Josh all about it was a close second to ribbing Dorchester about the exchange.
“Let’s get started,” Buxton said. “I’m sure you both have a lot to do today.” I sure as hell hoped not. The last few months had been pure chaos with a dead body turning up every time I turned around—or so it seemed at least. “I need to make you aware of the drama surrounding Broadman’s trial.”
“Already?” I asked. “He’s only been arraigned for his plea. You’ve not even had your first pretrial hearing yet, and there’s already drama?”
“Well, these crimes were committed in two different counties, and the prosecutors have different ideas on how to proceed,” she explained to me. “It’s not unlike two different law enforcement agencies fighting over an investigation.”
“Yeah, I understand that,” Dorchester said, “but the investigation that led to Broadman’s arrest was conducted by a multi-agency task force. We’re living proof of how well it works when people come together for a mutual goal.”
“I agree with you, Detective,” Buxton replied, “and I’ve tried very hard to be a team player.” She’d returned to the professional she was in both her tone and the way she addressed Dorchester. She was no longer his past friend, or whatever else; she was a woman who wanted to convict the man accused of committing crimes in her county. “I’m not the problem in the situation, but I’ve decided that I’ll be the solution.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“We initially talked about moving the Broadman trial to Cincinnati so that we could try him once for all four crimes. I had planned to file the motion for the change, but Prosecutor Willison and I couldn’t agree on terms. So,” she said then paused for effect, “we’re going to hammer down and go to court before he does and fucks up our case against Broadman.”
“Now we’re talking,” I said as if we were discussing the outcome of a sporting event and not justice. To tell the truth, I was very competitive in all aspects of my life, and I liked her attitude.
“We’re going to try him for Turner and Robertson since those crimes were committed here. We have the how and when figured out, but we don’t know why. Juries have a hard time convicting a person if they can’t figure out what motivated them to commit the crime. I need you guys to make finding a motive your top priority. I’ll even be nice and share the information with Willison when the time is right so he can prosecute the man for crimes committed in his county. I’ll never impede justice, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it for us first.”
“We’ll get right on that, Prosecutor Buxton,” I assured her.
“That’s not all,” she said when Dorchester and I started to rise out of our seats. “Depending on the outcome of your investigation, we could be looking at first-degree murder with capital punishment as a possible sentencing outcome. We’ve never had a capital punishment case in Carter County, so the state Attorney General’s focus will be on us. We cannot afford any screw-ups, Detectives.”
“There won’t be, ma’am,” I promised her.
“We won’t let you down, Pam,” John assured her.
There was so much more at stake here for her than for us. The first female prosecutor and the first capital punishment trial in the county amounted to a lot of pressure on her shoulders, but I was confident in her skills to get the job done.
“My ultimate goal is to use the possibility of the death penalty to get a confession out of Broadman for two life sentences to save the taxpayers a lot of money,” she told us. “It’s a long shot, but I’m going to give it a try. I need your help to make that happen.”
“We’ll see what we can dig up for you,” I told her, but I wasn’t confident that we’d find the concrete evidence she’d need to get a confession out of Broadman unless we found a witness or co-c
onspirator.
Buxton’s assistant came into the conference room to let her boss know the phone call she’d been waiting for had come through and the caller was on hold. That facilitated a brief goodbye and request for updates as we investigated before she left the room.
“How the hell are we going to make this happen?” Dorchester asked when we exited the courthouse.
“One step at a time like every other investigation. Let’s head back to my office and formulate a plan.” Once we were back in my car, I turned to look at him instead of starting the car. “So, John,” I said in a feminine, breathy voice to imitate the prosecutor’s use of his first name, “what’s the story here?”
“No story,” he said, but wouldn’t look at me.
“Oh, there’s always a story,” I said. “Obviously, you two used to date or something. Were you high school sweethearts?”
“You could say that,” he mumbled. “Pam was my first girlfriend. We dated all through high school and our first year of college even though we’d chosen different universities. We simply grew apart, and realized we wanted different things in life. She was right when she said things worked out how they were intended because I can’t imagine a life without Deanna and my kids.”
Man, I almost felt bad that Josh was going to put the pie smack-down on his wife. Then I recalled the hard times he gave me and got over it. “So, how’s the missus going to feel about you working with your first love?” I asked him.
John turned his face slowly to look at me, narrowed his eyes, and said, “Don’t you breathe a single word about this on Sunday.”
“I would never say a word,” I said, jerking in my seat like I was shocked by the thought. I rubbed my hand over my heart like Dorchester had just stabbed me there. “Ouch.”
“Okay, so maybe I had fun at your expense with Turner, Silver, and Paul but that’s different,” he said.
“How do you figure?” I asked him.
“Your interaction with them was limited where my wife had Pam thrown in her face during the entire campaign. She had to hear all about how smart Pam is, how beautiful and confident she is, and how close I was to marrying her, which couldn’t be further from the truth. Deanna doesn’t do makeup and glam; she hauls our kids all over God’s creation to get them to their activities. Hearing nonstop about Pam’s attributes is making her feel like she’s somehow less, that her role as a wife and mother is somehow not enough. I hate that for Deanna almost as much as hearing her ask me if I regretted the choices I made when I was younger. It’s a very sore subject.”
Welcome to Blissville Page 76
