Read Online Dirty Little Secrets (Romantic Mystery) Book 1 in the J.J. Graves Series by Liliana Hart - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Liliana Hart
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Dickey Harlowe, whose real name was something outrageous like Richmond Dexter Harlowe IV, was the hereditary bank president at First National—fifth generation. Banking was what the Harlowes did, even though Dickey had graduated in the top ninetieth percentile of his class from James Madison University and was truly a bum at heart. So mostly Dickey played golf and signed his name to official documents his secretary sent to him—and since he’d been having an affair with his secretary for three years, she usually knew where to find him. The fact that Dickey was married to a plastic surgery addicted piranha didn’t excuse his adulterous behavior, but it certainly added to the sympathy factor. Dickey’s poker skills ran towards the spontaneous with bursts of luck that kept him in the running.
Vaughn Raines was another member of the group. I’d dated Vaughn a couple of times my sophomore year of high school, but we’d decided it was just too weird. Vaughn was a nice guy and a hell of a poker player, but he soon discovered after his date with me that his affections veered more towards the opposite sex. Apparently, I’d opened his eyes to the fact that he was gay. That wasn’t a particularly glowing endorsement for my dating resume, so we’d agreed to keep the secret between us. Vaughn owned an antique store/vitamin super center over in King George Proper. Despite the weird mix, it seemed to do very well.
And last in our happy but dysfunctional group was Eddie Turner. Eddie was a typical “average Joe”, which wasn’t exactly hard to be considering the company. Eddie was the nine-to-fiver. He owned a rent-a-car agency in the city and was married to a really nice woman he’d met on a singles cruise to the Bahamas five years ago. They’d had a very nice Episcopalian wedding at St. Paul’s, and exactly two years later his wife gave birth to their first child. And then two years after that she popped out one more. Eddie’s poker skills were slightly higher than mediocre. But I liked his wife, and his kids were cute in short increments of time.
“I thought they said on the weather channel that we were only going to get a few flurries.”
“Well, technically we did get a few flurries, but then they morphed into freezing death crystals. I don’t think the weathermen are required to be a hundred percent accurate. That’s one of those things that appear in fine print at the bottom of the screen. I’m just glad I’m not on call tonight. There’s nothing worse than trying to dig some poor shmoe out of the snow before he freezes to death.”
“Happy thoughts, Jack.”
“Yeah, I’d much rather talk about murder,” he said. “I did find out a few things of interest. Did you know that Fiona was seeing a therapist?”
“What?” I asked. “For how long?”
“I found his name and contact information in the appointment book we retrieved from her house this afternoon. Dr. Henry Hides has an office in Nottingham. When I called to deliver the news he seemed surprised. She’d been his patient for more than four years.”
“You’d think someone like her therapist would be able to spot the signs of abuse. I literally found contusions and abrasions on every patch of skin except for her feet and face, but oddly enough I didn’t find any scars. And I checked hospital records, but she never went in for treatment. Not once. But you’re telling me the therapist wasn’t surprised when she supposedly turns up dead by her husband’s hand?”
“Yeah, I thought it was rather odd myself. Why don’t we go pay the good doctor a visit tomorrow morning? His office happens to be on the bottom floor of his townhouse, and I’d like to get the chance to see the big picture.”
“And four eyes are better than two.”
“Exactly. And while we’re in Nottingham we can stop by the Alexandretta Boutique. I found a label inside the scarf that was used as the murder weapon. The Alexandretta Boutique is very high
Dickey Harlowe, whose real name was something outrageous like Richmond Dexter Harlowe IV, was the hereditary bank president at First National—fifth generation. Banking was what the Harlowes did, even though Dickey had graduated in the top ninetieth percentile of his class from James Madison University and was truly a bum at heart. So mostly Dickey played golf and signed his name to official documents his secretary sent to him—and since he’d been having an affair with his secretary for three years, she usually knew where to find him. The fact that Dickey was married to a plastic surgery addicted piranha didn’t excuse his adulterous behavior, but it certainly added to the sympathy factor. Dickey’s poker skills ran towards the spontaneous with bursts of luck that kept him in the running.
Vaughn Raines was another member of the group. I’d dated Vaughn a couple of times my sophomore year of high school, but we’d decided it was just too weird. Vaughn was a nice guy and a hell of a poker player, but he soon discovered after his date with me that his affections veered more towards the opposite sex. Apparently, I’d opened his eyes to the fact that he was gay. That wasn’t a particularly glowing endorsement for my dating resume, so we’d agreed to keep the secret between us. Vaughn owned an antique store/vitamin super center over in King George Proper. Despite the weird mix, it seemed to do very well.
And last in our happy but dysfunctional group was Eddie Turner. Eddie was a typical “average Joe”, which wasn’t exactly hard to be considering the company. Eddie was the nine-to-fiver. He owned a rent-a-car agency in the city and was married to a really nice woman he’d met on a singles cruise to the Bahamas five years ago. They’d had a very nice Episcopalian wedding at St. Paul’s, and exactly two years later his wife gave birth to their first child. And then two years after that she popped out one more. Eddie’s poker skills were slightly higher than mediocre. But I liked his wife, and his kids were cute in short increments of time.
“I thought they said on the weather channel that we were only going to get a few flurries.”
“Well, technically we did get a few flurries, but then they morphed into freezing death crystals. I don’t think the weathermen are required to be a hundred percent accurate. That’s one of those things that appear in fine print at the bottom of the screen. I’m just glad I’m not on call tonight. There’s nothing worse than trying to dig some poor shmoe out of the snow before he freezes to death.”
“Happy thoughts, Jack.”
“Yeah, I’d much rather talk about murder,” he said. “I did find out a few things of interest. Did you know that Fiona was seeing a therapist?”
“What?” I asked. “For how long?”
“I found his name and contact information in the appointment book we retrieved from her house this afternoon. Dr. Henry Hides has an office in Nottingham. When I called to deliver the news he seemed surprised. She’d been his patient for more than four years.”
“You’d think someone like her therapist would be able to spot the signs of abuse. I literally found contusions and abrasions on every patch of skin except for her feet and face, but oddly enough I didn’t find any scars. And I checked hospital records, but she never went in for treatment. Not once. But you’re telling me the therapist wasn’t surprised when she supposedly turns up dead by her husband’s hand?”
“Yeah, I thought it was rather odd myself. Why don’t we go pay the good doctor a visit tomorrow morning? His office happens to be on the bottom floor of his townhouse, and I’d like to get the chance to see the big picture.”
“And four eyes are better than two.”
“Exactly. And while we’re in Nottingham we can stop by the Alexandretta Boutique. I found a label inside the scarf that was used as the murder weapon. The Alexandretta Boutique is very high
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