Dirty Little Secrets (Romantic Mystery) Book 1 in the J.J. Graves Series (17 page)

“Don’t remind me,” he said. “Fool-proof evidence has been part of the problem to begin with. Meaning that I’m the one that looks like a fool.”

“What about the lover?” Brody asked.

“He’ll be next on my list. We just have to find him first. There aren’t cameras on the floors, but there are a few in the lobby. We’ll look at them and see if we can get an identity.”
I went over to Brody and spoke softly. “I’m going to head over to the Wallace’s with Jack to break the news.”

“That’s not a conversation I’d want to be a part of,” he said, shaking his head.
No kidding
.
I wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect either.

“I’m going to head back over to the Bed and Breakfast for a while to get some work done,” Brody said. “I wanted to let you know that I ate breakfast in the dining room here at the hotel yesterday morning to keep Mrs. Baker from asking me where I’d spent the night, so Jack will see me on the tape.”

“I’ll give him a heads up,” I said.

“Call me when you get finished and I’ll pick up dinner.”

“It could be late.”

“I do my best work late at night,” he said with a wink.

I gave him a quick kiss and then made my way back over to Jack who was giving last minute instructions to one of his officers.

“Are you done playing kissy-face?” he asked.

“Unless you want one too, big guy,” I said.

He looked at his watch and sighed. “Christ, there just aren’t enough hours in the day. I’ve got to wrap things up here, and I need to run by the station to check on Floyd’s status. I’m going to make him sweat for as long as I can before I question him. That’ll give you time to give Amanda’s body a cursory glance to see if you find anything unusual. I’ll pick you up at the funeral home in about an hour, and then we can go see if Harvey Wallace knew who his wife was having an affair with.”

I blew out a breath and closed my eyes. “That’ll be fun.”

Chapter Sixteen

I was pretty sure Harvey Wallace had no idea about his wife’s extramarital affair, considering he collapsed at my feet once Jack told him about the nature of his wife’s death.

It had taken death threats and blackmail to keep the news of Amanda’s murder from hitting the grapevine. Most of the threats were directed at Barbara Blanton in the dispatcher’s office because she could never keep her big mouth shut.

“Geez, Jack. Maybe break the news a little easier next time,” I said. Harvey was crumpled on the floor like a rag doll and lay pale and still as death. I bent down to make sure he was still breathing and gave Jack the thumbs up sign when I saw his chest rise.

“I wasn’t going to draw it out,” Jack said, rolling his eyes. “That makes it worse for everyone. Bad news should be delivered quick and clean. Like a band-aid.”

“So says the guy not lying in a heap on the floor. Help me get him to the sofa.”

Jack lifted Harvey up without my help and moved him to the sofa. Someone had been working out, I thought, eyeing the arm bulges appreciatively. I was still a woman, even if I was having regular sex now. “Damn, Jack, that’s impressive,” I said.

“That’s because you live on sugar and starch, whereas my body is a temple. Plus the fact that I actually use my gym membership.” He gave me a pointed look, one of those meant to instill guilt, but I looked up at the ceiling and started to whistle. I was a master evader of the guilt trip.

But Jack was right about one thing, there was no way I was going to give up powdered donuts to make my body a temple for anyone. Men liked a little softness to their women, right?

“Harvey,” I finally said, putting my fingers at the pulse on his neck. It was rapid, but strong. “Harvey, can you hear me?” Startled blue eyes opened, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Amanda?” he asked. He looked lost and old, fragile.

“I’m sorry about your wife, Harvey. Would you mind if we asked you a few questions?”

He sat up slowly and Jack and I sat in the dainty Queen Anne chairs across from him. Jack looked at Harvey with sympathy, and I knew this was harder for him than he let on. It was never easy dealing with grief, whether it was your own or someone else’s.

“We need to do this by the book, Harvey,” Jack said, “So we can find who did this to your wife.”

“Yes. Do whatever you need to do,” he said. His eyes were dilated and his voice shook slightly. “I understand the process and that I would logically be your number one suspect. But I assure you, I did not kill my wife.”

“Can you tell us your whereabouts between seven and noon yesterday morning?” Jack asked.

“I was here,” Harvey said. He touched the little lace doilies that sat on the coffee table, a telling nervous habit. He knew about the affair, I realized. But he didn’t want to talk about it because then it would become real in his mind.

“You know I had too much to drink Saturday night, Jack. I was upset about things and wasn’t thinking straight. And then Bob just compounded those problems by being Bob. Let me tell you, holidays have been hell the last twenty years when you have a father-in-law that would sooner serve you up on a platter rather than a turkey,” he said with a rusty laugh.

“But what you said to me Saturday night brought some of my common sense back, and I realized I was making a fool of myself. So I came back home like you told me to and slept it off. I didn’t wake up until after ten.”

“Did you go out after you woke up?”

“No, I stayed here all day. I know it was my duty as a councilman to go to Fiona’s funeral, but I just didn’t feel up to it. I was feeling sorry for myself, and the last thing I wanted was to go out in public.”

“Were you and your wife having problems?” Jack asked softly.

Harvey nodded his head slowly, his eyes devastated but still dry. “It started just over a year ago. Look at me. I’m sixty-three years old, Jack, and she’s a thirty-eight year old woman in the prime of her life. Bob should have shot me down for running off with his baby. But I loved her. Still love her. My youngest is eighteen now, just started college in the fall. I don’t know what I’d do if a man old enough to know better came along and snatched her away from me.”

“You fought over your age difference?” Jack asked.

I was completely surprised by this whole thing. I never would have guessed the Wallace’s were having marital problems. They always seemed so happy together. It proved that no one really knew what went on behind closed doors.

“I asked her how she could still be attracted to me, still love the old man I’ve become. I’m not as good looking as I used to be. I have mirrors,” he said, bitterly. “In my day I could have had any woman I wanted. She told me I was being silly, and she wanted to go see a marriage counselor.”

Jack and I exchanged looks, remembering the therapist we’d already had one run in with. But I also remembered that Dr. Hides had told us he wasn’t a marriage counselor.

“Did you go?” I asked.

“No. I told her I wasn’t going to see a shrink to tell me I should’ve married someone my own age. That made her cry because she didn’t think I loved her any more. I told her if it would make her feel better to see a shrink to go right ahead, but she could do it without me. She took me up on it too. Didn’t speak to me for almost a week after that little fight.”

“Do you have the contact information for her doctor?” Jack asked.

“It’s probably in her Rolodex,” he said. “I’ll see if I can find it for you.” He got up and headed to a back room where I assumed her office was located. I took a minute to look around the room while he was gone. It was a cozy house in good repair. Amanda Wallace had obviously been very traditional in her decorating tastes. And expensive. If I wasn’t mistaken, her dining room table and other various pieces were all Hepplewhite.

The sofa print was of large faded cabbage roses and a Persian rug was on the floor. I let my mind wander while looking over the room. Dr. Hides did seem to be in the middle of it all.  

“I don’t believe in coincidences, Jack.”

“Me either, but let’s see who the doctor is before we jump to conclusions.”

Harvey came back with a business card and gave it to Jack with a shaking hand. He didn’t bother to sit back down.

“She was with a lover, wasn’t she?” Harvey asked Jack directly, his face blank of any emotion for the first time.

Jack looked at him with sympathy. “We believe so, yes. It’s our number one priority to find out who the last person to see her alive was.”

“I almost don’t even want to know who it was. It’s my own fault, you know? I didn’t touch her in over a year. I just didn’t see how she could want me. Sexually. I’d told myself I’d rather do without her than think she was pretending when she was in my bed.”

There was nothing I could say or do to relieve Harvey Wallace of the grief and guilt he was feeling over his dead wife. Some things were set in motion long before people like me ever came to the scene.

“I wish I could tell you who he was, but I was just starting to suspect myself,” he said, getting a grip on his thoughts. “I don’t mean to rush you out, but I need to find a way to tell my children their mother is dead. We’ll be in tomorrow, Dr. Graves, to discuss funeral preparations. Unless you need to see me sooner.”

“Actually, it would be best if you can come in this afternoon and complete the paperwork. It’ll take a couple of days before she’ll be ready for the viewing because of the autopsy. You can always come back tomorrow with your children and make arrangements for the preparations.” He was silent, just staring blankly at me as if my words hadn’t yet penetrated.  “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” he said and shut the door behind us.

“Well?” I asked.

“Let’s go pay a visit to Dr. Hides. I think he needs to have an ironclad alibi for yesterday morning or he’s going to find himself under arrest.”

“Before we start dragging people away in shackles, would you mind if we got something to eat? I’m starving.”

“When aren’t you starving?” Jack asked. “Where do you want to stop?”

“Martha’s,” I said automatically. “I need a burger with the works.” Martha’s was a burger institution in Bloody Mary. Martha herself had been behind the counter for the last sixty years serving breakfast, lunch and dinner.

“The writer’s not going to want to play kissy-face next time you see him if you get a burger with the works.”

“The writer will want to play kissy-face at any opportunity he can find. The man is a machine.”

“You serious about this guy?” Jack asked, pulling into the parking lot at Martha’s Diner.

“I think I could be,” I said. “I’m trying not to let myself.”

“Why not?”

“He reminds me of you.”

“Like hell,” Jack said loud enough to have a couple of diners look in our direction.

“You’d be surprised,” I said. “I don’t know, Jack. I’m getting to that point in my life where I’m ready to settle down with someone. Maybe have a couple of kids. I’m not sure if Brody’s anywhere near ready for that. I’ve got to prepare myself for when he moves on.”

“Or he could decide to stay. He looked pretty serious about you when I saw you together earlier today.”

“I think that was more of his effort to try and mark his territory while you were around.” We placed our orders and Martha made no secret about eavesdropping in on our conversation. It wasn’t until Jack grabbed the bags to go that she decided to put in her two-cents.

“You know, J.J. If you’re wantin’ to get pregnant so bad all you’ve gotta do is start pokin’ holes in his rubbers. That’s a sure-fire way to get knocked up in no time. That’s how I ended up with my youngest.”

“Thanks, Martha,” I said. “I’ll keep that in mind.” I wondered how long it would take for that bit of information to reach Brody’s ears. I’d probably have to buy him an unopened box as a peace offering.

We took our burgers to go and ate them in the car. “How did things go with Floyd at the station?” I asked around a bite of burger. Grease dripped from the bottom and landed on the paper sack in my lap.

“He’d lawyered up by the time I got there, and his attorney advised him to cooperate. Floyd said he was home alone the night of Fiona’s murder, and he claimed he was at the Gazette office during the time of Amanda Wallace’s murder. He doesn’t have anyone that can confirm his whereabouts for either.”

“So what did you do with him?”

“In exchange for his cooperation I dropped the assault charges, and I told him not to leave town.”

“That’s it?” I asked incredulous. “The guy’s the best suspect we have. He would have pounded you to a pulp in the hall if it hadn’t been full of cops.”

“Thanks so much for your faith in my physical prowess,” Jack said, looking pained. “We don’t have any evidence to hold him. Floyd knows that and so did his attorney. We don’t have shit,” he said, slamming his fist against the dashboard.

I knew from experience that the best course of action was to pretend I was invisible, so Jack and I finished our burgers in silence—his thoughts getting heavier the longer we sat there.

“Jaye,” he said. “You’re not going to like what I’m thinking.”

“What is it?”