Dirty Little Secrets (Romantic Mystery) Book 1 in the J.J. Graves Series

by Hart, Liliana

  “Good thinking,” I said, mentally shaking my head at his naivety. The people of Bloody Mary could give the CIA a run for their money when it came to ferreting out secrets.

  We wrapped up in our coats, scarves and gloves because the temperature had dropped back down to freezing once the sun had gone down. All the melted snow would freeze overnight and leave the roads dangerous for all the morning work traffic.

  Thanks to my earlier nap I was wide awake and my brain was ready to get things done. Unfortunately, I was a lot like a man after sex, meaning as soon as orgasm was achieved I was a worthless blob of jelly. So I found myself in the strange predicament of having my mind well rested but my body turned to mush. The bad news was I still had a long night of work ahead of me.

  We took Brody’s Escalade because it had the least amount of ice crusted on the windshield and headed into town. And for such a miserable night, Martha was doing a swift business.

  “Looks like everyone in town had the same idea we did,” Brody said.

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.” If Brody meant that everyone in town had the same idea about coming into town to hear the latest gossip that is. And we were walking right into the lion’s den.

  Heat cocooned me as soon as I walked through the doors, and the overpowering aroma of grilled onions and grease seeped into my clothes and hair. I knew from experience that I’d carry the smell of Martha’s around with me for the rest of the night.

  Conversations stopped when everyone saw that we were at the door, and all I could hear was the sizzle of burgers on the grill in the kitchen. As suddenly as it had stopped, voices whooshed into conversation while curious glances kept creeping in our direction. Martha herself came out from behind the counter to show us to a table.

  “You’re practically celebrities,” Martha said as she raised her voice to a yell and led us to one of the many turquoise Formica tables that lined the edge of the room. There were little juke boxes that sat on top, and the booths were torn and patched red vinyl. She plopped two greasy menus down in front of us and took our drink order.

  It took less than thirty seconds for her to fill the order and get back to us. “I won’t be able to hold ‘em off for long,” she said, “so be prepared to get some questions. Everybody’s real curious about these murders. You’d think nobody ever watched the news or heard about all those killings that happen everyday up in Fairfax or Richmond. Jack was in earlier to grab a couple of burgers to go, and I wasn’t so sure he was going to make it back out again. These people are desperate. There’s only so much you can do in this kind of weather, and in my experience you can only do that so long before you start to go a little crazy if you get my drift. Or get knocked up, whichever comes first.”

  Martha’s “going crazy” comment concerned me a little. Most of the patrons in the room were old enough that too much “crazy” could be a health risk. It was probably wise for them to brave the elements and get out of the house so they could escape temptation.

  “Did you take my advice about poking the you know what in the you know where?” Martha asked in a whisper. But Martha’s whisper came out with the volume of a bull horn, and everyone lowered their volume to hear my answer. I kicked Brody under the table because he hadn’t stopped laughing since he’d sat down. “Brody’s just here doing research, Martha, but thanks anyway for thinking of me.”

  She gave an exaggerated wink and shifted her weight until one bony hip rested against the red vinyl booth. “Sure honey, your secret’s safe with me. After all, you’ve got a reputation to protect and good-standing in the community. But just between you and me, the Ladies Lodge is booked through March for showers and what not, so you might want to get your name in the pot before too long. With your mama not here, we feel responsible for you.” She walked away without taking our order, probably just to make sure we stayed as long as possible to boost her business.

  “Why is this town so desperate to see you with a man?” Brody asked.

  I buried my face in the menu without reading the words just so I could avoid making eye contact while I answered. “Because this is fricking Bloody Mary, which means that a woman’s goal in life is to graduate high school and go to college a semester or two to catch a man who’s not completely worthless. And then once a suitable man is caught, the town will celebrate by throwing a shower of monstrous proportions and shoving you both down the aisle so you can get to the honeymoon and start procreating as soon as possible. It’s one long, sick cycle, and I’ve been slipping through their grasps for years.”

  “So you’re a challenge,” Brody said, nodding his head like it all made perfect sense.

  “In a nutshell. Mostly I’m just super picky and have no desire to throw my life away by learning how to make thirty-two different kinds of tablecloths or entering pies in the county fair. I’m told I take after my grandmother. She was a real rebel. She didn’t marry my grandfather until she was in her mid-thirties. That was practically ancient in that time.”

  “So I’m just a diversion?” Brody asked.

  “I’m not sure exactly what you are. You were a surprise. You kind of blind-sided me.”

  “I’m good at that,” he said with the smile that I’d learned meant good things would come to me later. “But get ready because people are starting to get shifty and head this direction.”

  “If we get into dangerous territory just stab me with a butter knife and get me to a hospital to escape the madness,” I said desperately.

  I was actually feeling pretty good despite everything on my plate and my confrontation with Mr. Wallace. Martha’s words had had a lot to do with that. She wouldn’t have mentioned my reputation or good-standing in the community if there were a bunch of rumors going around about me being a pervert.

  “Good evening, Dr. Graves,” Ben Rooney said as he pulled up a chair up backwards and sat at our table, making himself comfortable.

  Ben had been a farmer all his life, not a tobacco farmer like Jack’s family, but an honest to God farmer with corn and wheat and pigs and cows. He always wore overalls and had a toothpick sticking out of his mouth. He’d never once gotten on to me, Jack, Dickey, Vaughn and Eddie when we’d snuck into his fields at night, eaten corn right off the stalks and told ghost stories.

  Ben Rooney was a good man, and he and his wife had organized meals for me for a month after my parents died. Ben was one of the few people in town who actually knew my first name, so I was always especially friendly to those people so they had no reason to blackmail me later on. Besides, I didn’t mind gossiping with people I liked. In fact, I didn’t really consider it gossip at all, just passing the time with a little colorful information.

  Ben looked pointedly in Brody’s direction, and I realized I was being rude. Just because everyone already knew who he was didn’t mean they didn’t want an official introduction.

  “Brody, this is Ben Rooney. He and my dad were good friends.” They shook hands, and Ben got down to business.

  “I’m awful sorry to hear about Harvey Wallace moving Amanda over to Stranton’s place. It just isn’t right, them being members of St. Paul’s and all. But the man is grieving and out of his mind, so you probably shouldn’t hold it against him.”

  “No, of course not,” I lied. As far as I was concerned Mr. Wallace had known exactly what he was doing and just liked being a pain in the behind. And I’d hold it against him if I wanted. I had student loans to pay off after all, and even though there seemed to be a crop of funerals right now I sometimes went several weeks without having to prepare a burial.

  “Well, it’s good of you to be so understanding,” he said. Several other people had moved in around us to hear better, not bothering to disguise the fact they were blatantly eavesdropping.

  Martha had to fight through with the plates of food in her hand. It was a good thing I’d wanted a hamburger because that’s what she’d brought for us to eat. I couldn’t be so sure about Brody though. I winced in apology, but he only winked in response. He seemed to
be enjoying himself.

  “Comin’ through,” Martha yelled over the crowd. “I’ve got burgers with the works and fries.” My mouth watered, but I knew I’d be popping Tums all night long. “These are on the house considering you haven’t had a moment’s peace since you’ve been here. Enjoy.” She was off again, doing a hundred things at once and keeping all her customers happy, which was why she’d been in business so long.

  I heard someone else pipe up after Martha had gone in response to what Ben had said about Harvey Wallace. I groaned as I recognized the voice.

  Hilda Martin. The same Hilda Martin who’d trapped her daughter in the basement with her handyman just to get her married off. The same woman who sat like a sentry behind the register at the grocery store so she could see what everyone was buying—like tampons or pregnancy tests—and then spread the news all over town. She was also giving Brody shifty looks, and I knew she was trying to figure out a way to trap him in her basement with her youngest daughter Cleo.

  “I don’t think you should make excuses for him, Ben,” Hilda said. “He knows perfectly well that it’s a direct insult to J.J. to move his business to another home when everybody knows she’s got dibs at St. Paul’s. It’s not right.”

  There were a few head nods in agreement, and I had to keep myself from joining them. I kind of agreed with what she was saying. I did have dibs at St. Paul’s.

  “And the man can stick his head in the sand all he wants, but a blind man could tell that Amanda had a lover. Husbands just don’t give a woman that same glow as a lover does. Look at J.J. here. She’s shining so bright she’s practically bursting with it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her looking so radiant.”

  Every one turned from Hilda to stare at me and assess the damage. I did my best to ignore everyone by pretending they were all naked and their bodies were riddled with flaws. It didn’t take away the embarrassment, but it made me feel better about myself.

  “Roberta Clack over at the pharmacy said she couldn’t blame Amanda one bit for going to another man, because she’d heard that Harvey has a problem with his you know what,” Hilda said, pointing at her crotch, which I guess was her way of letting us know that he was impotent. Either that or maybe he could never get the tab in his zippers to lay down flat. Sometimes I had problems with that, too. “And Roberta said he refused to do anything about the matter.”

  This was news to me. But obviously I wasn’t as good at keeping up with the gossip as I’d thought, because I hadn’t known about Amanda’s lover either. I needed to get out more. I was missing all the good stuff.

  “You people are missing the whole point,” Carlton Fisk said. It was the first time he’d spoken aloud since we’d been there, but everyone quieted down to hear what he had to say since he was almost always right about everything.

  “What you should be worrying about instead of who’s sleeping with who is that there’s a killer among us. All of us, even me, were sure that George was the guilty party after Fiona was killed. It just made sense,” he said. “But with Amanda Wallace’s death being so similar we have to look at our own.”

  “You really think the killer is living among us?” Jenny Negley asked. I was having a little bit of trouble looking at Jenny and not thinking of her dressed up as Cat Woman and mewling at Jack. I was a little surprised she hadn’t found some poor sap to try out her wardrobe on and take advantage of being snowed in.

  “Well, what a thing to say, Carl,” Hilda said. “If it wasn’t so ridiculous it would be insulting.”

  “Who else could it be if it’s not someone who knew that George would be the first one blamed? What about those footprints and tire marks in the mud?”

  Personally, I was thinking that Jack should hire Carlton on as a deputy. He seemed to have a pretty good handle on things.

  “Well I heard that Harvey Wallace’s cufflink was found in that hotel room that Amanda was murdered in,” Stanley Lipinski said. “Maybe it’s something in the water. Maybe men are just getting tired of their wives and getting rid of them.”

  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, Stanley Lipinski, and it’s no wonder you can’t get Wanda to marry you with that kind of nonsense coming out of your mouth.”

  I could tell things were going downhill fast, and I was trying to figure out a way to escape without having to have Brody stab me with a butter knife. The sound of Brody’s voice had my mouth dropping open in surprise.

  “Why don’t you all try and think of strangers you’ve seen in and out of town the last few days? It could be someone just passing through,” Brody said. “Or maybe someone from one of the other towns.”

  “You mean like you?” Stanley asked. “I saw you over at the Diamond Shamrock station in Nottingham earlier this morning, and you were driving around in King George a couple of days ago.”

  Wow, Stanley got around town. I guess that’s what people did when they were retired—snoop on other people.

  “I’ve been everywhere in this county,” Brody said patiently. “I’ve been doing research and interviewing residents. It’s just part of my job.”

  “You should be ashamed of yourself, Stanley. Don’t talk to him that way,” Hilda said. “This is Brody Collins, and he’s a real mystery writer. You can even get his books in the checkout line at my store.” She said it like having his books in her store was the pinnacle of Brody’s success, and he couldn’t expect to go any higher than that. New York Times be damned.

  Hilda’s little round face pinkened, and I could practically see a light bulb go off above her head. “I know,” she said. “I have the perfect solution. I think we should get Brody to find the murderer. Wouldn’t that be great? And then he could put all of us in his book when he was through. It would only be fair on account of us helping him solve the crime. Not that Jack’s not doing a good job,” she said, looking at me apologetically, “But Brody here is an expert on these things.” She turned back to Brody with glee in her eyes. “I’ve read all your books you know. So has my daughter Cleo. Maybe you could stop by her place and sign all her copies before you leave town.”

  So that’s how she was going to do it, I thought. Not nearly as clever as throwing him in the basement, but it wasn’t too shabby as far as husband-snagging plans went.

  “Your sheriff is doing a good job, and I don’t want to step on his territory,” Brody said, shaking his head no in apology. “It’s a professional courtesy.”

  There were several hmms of understanding, but most people looked like they didn’t care one way or the other about professional courtesy as long as it fed the gossip mill and kept them in dinner conversations for the next week. I gave Brody a you’re on your own, you started this look, and kept my mouth shut.

  The restaurant was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, and Brody looked a little pale under his collar. “Well,” he started, “I don’t know the people in this town as well as you guys do, but it seems to me we’re looking for someone who obviously has issues with women. Both victims were killed in the same manner, and there was rape involved. In the case of the first murder, it was my understanding as well that the husband was most likely responsible, but the DNA test came back negative, so I’d say just by that information that more than likely we can cross out the husband as the main suspect in the second murder as well.”

  Brody cleared his throat and looked at me with panic-stricken eyes, as if he’d just realized the downward spiral he’d begun. But he forged ahead. “Obviously the killer is trying to throw the police off by implicating other people, but he’s not worried about being caught or he wouldn’t care about his DNA being left behind.”

  “So who do you think it could be?” Jenny asked.

  “I don’t know, but from my experiences with other police departments and profilers I’d say the killer is probably a white male, probably no older than forty and in good shape because he killed them both in such a physical matter. He seems well organized, so he’s probably done this before.”

  “We should mak
e a list,” Harry Breur said from one of the barstools. “We should make a list of every white male in Bloody Mary under forty and see who hates women the most.” There was a surge in volume from the crowd, and I closed my eyes and prayed I was dreaming.

  “I bet there’s a lot of those,” Stanley said. “What about you?” he asked Brody. “Do you hate women?”

  “I love women,” Brody said, taking my hand in his and giving it a squeeze. I heard a few titters in the background and knew I’d pay him back later for bringing me back into this after I’d tried so hard to be wallpaper.

  “I heard Dickey Harlowe’s having woman problems right now,” someone else said. “I heard his wife’s about to skin him good in a divorce. And I heard his secretary left on his boat with all the petty cash from his office. I bet he hates all women right now. We should go find out.”

  There were several more men mentioned, including Jack, several other cops, a councilman, Lanny Wilcox because he’d apparently caught an STD from a hooker over in Fairfax, Ian Rutledge because he’d given Hilda Martin a dirty look when she’d stolen his parking place last week and Vaughn because he was gay, and apparently that meant he hated all women. I tried to mention that Vaughn didn’t hate me, but Hilda was quick to point out that no one really thought of me as a girl most of the time and probably Vaughn didn’t either. I wasn’t really sure if I should be insulted or not.

  “You need to do something,” I whispered to Brody. “They’re getting all excited, and pretty soon they’re going to be knocking down doors and stringing people up. This is an action first, talk later kind of group. And we are south of the Mason-Dixon line, which means that to us things like the police and law and order are more guidelines than things you actually have to obey. When it comes down to it, everybody in this room will take matters into their own hands just on sheer principle. And Jack is going to be pissed if he gets word of this.”

  “You mean when he gets word of this,” Brody said, shaking his head. “I swear I didn’t know it would end up this way. I was only trying to give them enough to back off for a little while.”