Read Online Death Loved A Woman (Happy Holloway Mystery Book 2) by Audrey Claire - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Audrey Claire
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his daddy’s name.”
Jamie disagreed. “No, he never needed to do that much. Everyone knew who he was, and they just stayed out of his way and gave him what he wanted.”
Annie noticed Omen heading their way, but she didn’t feel she had learned anything useful yet. She cut to the chase. “Can either of you think of anyone who would want to hurt Wesley?”
“Racine,” they chorused together and then slapped hands over their mouths, eyes wide and staring around the room. Several heads turned in their direction, but Annie had asked her question low enough for just the girls to hear. As far as anyone else was concerned, they were just mentioning the hostess.
“Not Barbara Jean?”
“She wanted him for his money,” Connie explained. “She wasn’t unwinding her hooks until she sealed the deal. They’re not married, so he should be alive.”
To Annie’s relief, Omen stopped to speak with a rotund man in an old-styled brown suit.
“Why would you think his mother would want to kill him?”
Jamie squeezed Connie’s arm to silence her. “I can answer that. Racine is a witch.”
Chapter Nine
“ L iterally ?”
“Probably.” Both ladies laughed. “No, she’s cold-hearted, and the only one she loves is Mark.”
“But he’s not her son.”
“Maybe love is too much. Like might be a better description. He’s similar to her in personality, manipulative and conniving. I think she’d love it if he were her blood son and not Wesley. She and Mark were always closer, or that’s the way it looked to me. Plus, her mother left her money to Wesley and skipped right over her own daughter. Racine has to depend on Mr. Witman for everything.”
Annie tried to digest what Jamie told her, but it was hard to believe Racine would prefer her stepson to her actual son. Of course, she could see the woman might wish her son were of a stronger nature, but any more than that was unthinkable.
Could Racine have resented Wesley enough to kill him? Even if she did, why wait? Her mother died six years ago. Then she remembered. The money wouldn’t go to Wesley until he turned thirty or he got married. He was in no danger of marrying until he started seeing Barbara Jean, who would get him to the altar one way or another.
Omen at last reached them, and the three dropped the subject. Annie’s date brought over the older man, and she thought it amusing that the two of them appeared to be opposites but alike.
The old man was as round as Omen was long and thin. Neither of their suits fit well, and the two seemed completely unaware of it.
“Daddy, this party is duller than I thought it would be,” Jamie said, wrapping an arm about the older man’s shoulders. “I’m thinking about skipping out for the rest of the night.”
Daddy? So this was Mr. Witman’s attorney. The man’s face reddened, and he produced a handkerchief to mop his neck and head. Now that he drew closer, Annie saw that his head was wet from sweat. Did he need a three-piece suit in mild North Carolina fall weather, or at a party for that matter?
“We’ve only just got here, Jamie, and I never get to see you,” the old man whined. “Stay a while. You’re always gallivanting about.”
“I don’t gallivant.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine, but you have to make it up to me. Shopping tomorrow should do it.”
The older man sighed. “I’m not made of money, Jamie. You have to live within your means.”
She grumbled. “You work for Mr. Witman. If he doesn’t pay you enough, ask for a raise.”
Longsuffering eyes swung to Annie, and she thought he was asking her to rescue him from a daughter who threatened to make him bankrupt. She had no such experience, so she couldn’t help.
“How are you, sir?” She offered friendship instead. “I’m Annie Holloway. I just met your daughter and her friend. I’m…” For the life of Annie, she couldn’t bring herself to say she was an international model in front of these beauties, even a plus size one.
Jamie disagreed. “No, he never needed to do that much. Everyone knew who he was, and they just stayed out of his way and gave him what he wanted.”
Annie noticed Omen heading their way, but she didn’t feel she had learned anything useful yet. She cut to the chase. “Can either of you think of anyone who would want to hurt Wesley?”
“Racine,” they chorused together and then slapped hands over their mouths, eyes wide and staring around the room. Several heads turned in their direction, but Annie had asked her question low enough for just the girls to hear. As far as anyone else was concerned, they were just mentioning the hostess.
“Not Barbara Jean?”
“She wanted him for his money,” Connie explained. “She wasn’t unwinding her hooks until she sealed the deal. They’re not married, so he should be alive.”
To Annie’s relief, Omen stopped to speak with a rotund man in an old-styled brown suit.
“Why would you think his mother would want to kill him?”
Jamie squeezed Connie’s arm to silence her. “I can answer that. Racine is a witch.”
Chapter Nine
“ L iterally ?”
“Probably.” Both ladies laughed. “No, she’s cold-hearted, and the only one she loves is Mark.”
“But he’s not her son.”
“Maybe love is too much. Like might be a better description. He’s similar to her in personality, manipulative and conniving. I think she’d love it if he were her blood son and not Wesley. She and Mark were always closer, or that’s the way it looked to me. Plus, her mother left her money to Wesley and skipped right over her own daughter. Racine has to depend on Mr. Witman for everything.”
Annie tried to digest what Jamie told her, but it was hard to believe Racine would prefer her stepson to her actual son. Of course, she could see the woman might wish her son were of a stronger nature, but any more than that was unthinkable.
Could Racine have resented Wesley enough to kill him? Even if she did, why wait? Her mother died six years ago. Then she remembered. The money wouldn’t go to Wesley until he turned thirty or he got married. He was in no danger of marrying until he started seeing Barbara Jean, who would get him to the altar one way or another.
Omen at last reached them, and the three dropped the subject. Annie’s date brought over the older man, and she thought it amusing that the two of them appeared to be opposites but alike.
The old man was as round as Omen was long and thin. Neither of their suits fit well, and the two seemed completely unaware of it.
“Daddy, this party is duller than I thought it would be,” Jamie said, wrapping an arm about the older man’s shoulders. “I’m thinking about skipping out for the rest of the night.”
Daddy? So this was Mr. Witman’s attorney. The man’s face reddened, and he produced a handkerchief to mop his neck and head. Now that he drew closer, Annie saw that his head was wet from sweat. Did he need a three-piece suit in mild North Carolina fall weather, or at a party for that matter?
“We’ve only just got here, Jamie, and I never get to see you,” the old man whined. “Stay a while. You’re always gallivanting about.”
“I don’t gallivant.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine, but you have to make it up to me. Shopping tomorrow should do it.”
The older man sighed. “I’m not made of money, Jamie. You have to live within your means.”
She grumbled. “You work for Mr. Witman. If he doesn’t pay you enough, ask for a raise.”
Longsuffering eyes swung to Annie, and she thought he was asking her to rescue him from a daughter who threatened to make him bankrupt. She had no such experience, so she couldn’t help.
“How are you, sir?” She offered friendship instead. “I’m Annie Holloway. I just met your daughter and her friend. I’m…” For the life of Annie, she couldn’t bring herself to say she was an international model in front of these beauties, even a plus size one.
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