“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. She had been my former receptionist. 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-county 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. “Um, not really. I mean, I don’t know.”
“There are people you can hire to find out.” Sammy pointed a finger at me. “You need to protect yourself.”
“I appreciate your concern, Sammy, I really do. But I don’t think he is.” 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.”
“Yes, and sometimes angry, jealous wives are the ones who run them over.”
There was a long pause and I began to feel doubtful. “Don’t worry about this,” he finally said. “I’ll find out what I can and call you back.”
That was that, then. I walked back to the reception area. Sammy was typing on his laptop.
He sensed my presence and turned around. “There you are. Just booked you another appointment for tomorrow. Business is starting to pick up.”
“Thanks, Sammy.”
“You don’t need to thank me. It’s my job.”
* * *
By the time my last client left, I was feeling drained. It was hard to focus on work when I was so distracted. My hands were on autopilot while my brain tried to comprehend the whole ‘Marty’ situation. I felt guilty for not having devoted my total attention to my clients as I worked, but they didn’t seem to notice.
As I was driving home around five, I remembered that I’d be eating alone again. I would have called Sammy and asked him to join me, but it was his bowling night. He belonged to a league and took it very seriously. I was glad one of us felt passionate about something.
I pulled into the parking lot of a small deli. As I shut off the engine, I heard the phone ringing in my purse. I could tell by the ring it was the one Carter had given me. “Carter?”
“Sarah, are you in the middle of something?”
“No, why? Did you find out what happened to Marty?”
“Not on the phone. Can you meet me?”
“Yeah. I just stopped to grab a bite to eat, but it can wait.”
“I’m just walking into the Main Street Diner. Meet me here.”
* * *
Carter was seated in a booth at the far end of the diner, coffee in hand. The sleeves of his black shirt were rolled up to the elbow, and his thick, grey hair looked like it could use a trim.
“Special today is beef stew. Sound good to you?” he asked.
“Sure, anything is fine. I’m starving.” I removed my jacket and settled onto the lumpy seat cushion. “So?”
Carter took another sip of coffee and leaned back. “This has never happened before.”
“You mean the spouse of a client winding up dead?”
He nodded, shifted his position, and set the coffee cup down. “But there’s something else. It concerns Janet.”
“Did she do it?”
Carter chuckled, his attention focused somewhere over my shoulder. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
“What?” I said, leaning in toward him.
Carter stood. I turned just as Marty’s widow approached the booth and extended her hand to Carter.
“Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice. I can’t stay long,” she said, scooting in beside Carter. Her skin was pale, face void of make-up, and her dark, curly hair hung limply around her bony face. “First, thank you for helping me yesterday. I know this may seem strange to you, but I loved my husband very much. I’ve known about his trysts for quite some time, but truly wanted to save our marriage. I had hoped a scene like the one yesterday would shock him into changing his ways.”
I noticed her hands were shaking.
“We’re very sorry about Marty,” Carter said, resting his hand on her arm. “Do you want to tell us what happened?”
“Marty and I made love yesterday afternoon after we talked. It was . . . well, it was the best sex we’ve had in a long time.” She looked away and wiped her eyes. “When we were done, Marty got dressed and said he was going out to get some dinner to bring back to the room. I was in the shower when he left. The next time I saw him was in the morgue.” She squeezed her eyes shut and lowered her head as tears fell.
“What did the police say?” Carter asked.
“The driver of the van never saw him walk out into the street. They said the man was driving at the speed limit, thirty-five miles an hour. They said Marty was killed instantly.” Her trembling hand brushed a stray hair away from her face.
“Did the driver stop?”
“Yes. He was the one who called 911. According to the police, the man was very upset. He said in his statement that he didn’t see my husband due to the heavy rain and the presence of several delivery trucks that were parked out front.”
“Was Marty in a crosswalk?”
“No. The nearest crosswalk was half a block away.
Carter lifted his coffee mug and seemed to be studying it. “So, why’d you want to meet with us today?”
“Because I want you to find out why Lance Harding killed my husband.”
“Who?” Carter asked.
“The driver of the van … his name is Lance Harding.”
“Wait a minute. You just said it was an accident.” Carter squinted at her.
“Did I?”
“You said the driver felt awful.”
“That’s what it was made to look like.” Janet’s gaze was fixed on Carter.
“You think he hit him on purpose?”
Janet’s voice became a whisper. “I was there when he was being questioned. He was acting all apologetic, but there was something off about him. I could see it in his eyes. He was lying.”
“Do you know if he has a criminal record?”
“I really don’t know.”
“Okay,” Carter said, “I don’t get it.”
“I swear to you, this guy is not right.” Janet shook her head. “I don’t trust him.”
“Listen, Janet”—Carter rested a hand on the woman’s shoulder—“I think what you’re feeling right now is common. You want Marty’s death to make sense. Your brain is refusing to believe that a simple mistake could lead to such a tragic end for Marty. And I understand that. But he probably became distracted as he walked out into the street. It happens.”
“It’s more than that,” she persisted. “Call it intuition, call it whatever you want, but I know in my heart that Marty’s death was not accidental.”
Carter leaned back and looked at me. I decided to keep my mouth shut.
“Let’s say you’re right.” Carter sipped his coffee and massaged the bridge of his nose. “How could he have known Marty would be crossing the road at that exact moment?”
“You have to understand something about my husband,” Janet said. “He had his life timed right down to the minute. Everything he did, everywhere he went, was on a schedule. Even sex. I used to lovingly refer to him as my five-minute man.”
Carter cocked an eyebrow. “Five-minute man?”
“Yes. Unfortunately, even intercourse seemed to be timed with him. I’m telling you this to prove a point. Marty lived by a schedule. Every Wednesday afternoon he went to the
Chestnut Inn. He’d arrive at three o’clock sharp, leave at four-thirty on the dot, and was always home by five to walk our dog, Frankie. The man couldn’t take a shit until it was exactly five forty-five, and I mean on the nose. I thought it was sort of cute when we first met.”
“So that’s how you knew to set up the sting for three o’clock at the inn.”
“Sure. But even though Marty was predictable in that way, he was also very good at deceiving me. I’d been suspicious for years, but didn’t want to believe he was having relations with other women. It was my own fault.”
“So what you’re saying is that Lance Harding could have known exactly when Marty would leave the inn. You think he intentionally ran him down and made it look like an accident?”
“Yes, that’s what I’m saying. And that’s why I want to hire you to find out the truth. Maybe you could follow him and find out why he wanted to kill my husband, or find the person who hired him to do it.”
“Why not go to the police if you suspect foul play?”
“They won’t take me seriously,” she said, managing a weak smile. “At least I’ll be paying you to take me seriously.”
“Look,” Carter said. “I can refer you to a buddy of mine. This really isn’t my thing. I deal with cheating spouses, not murder investigations.”
“Please reconsider. I trust you, and money is no object. In fact, I have three thousand dollars to give you right now. Please, just give me a week of your time.” She grasped Carter’s hands.
Carter was silent for a moment. “Fine, I’ll look into it for a week. But I’ve got to be honest, you’d be better off--”
“Thank you so much,” Janet interrupted, handing Carter an envelope and a small briefcase. “Marty’s cell phone and laptop computer are inside. You should be able to access his contacts and call history on his phone. The laptop is another story. I have no idea how to get in there. I assume you have ways to do that.”
Carter nodded. “What about witnesses?” he asked. “Someone must have seen something. Do you know if the police questioned anyone else?”
“Not that I know of,” Janet replied.
“Forgive me for having to ask, but what about the other women in his life? You think one of them could have put Harding up to it for some reason?”
An Act of Deceit: Book 2 of the Sarah Woods Mysteries Page 2
