Read Online Mayhem Takes a Dare: The Second Marisa Adair Mystery Adventure (Marisa Adair Mysteries Book 2) by Jada Ryker - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jada Ryker
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Althea hissed. The woman was putting the moves on Clay!
Straightening her spine and firming her jaw, Althea ordered herself to stop lurking in the corner like a lovesick teenager, and enter the room like a normal human being. If decades of teaching elementary schoolchildren had not broken her spirit, nothing would. Including this painted, pampered product of a cosmetic surgeon, with her impossibly large breasts and wrinkle-free sly face.
Before Althea could move from her impromptu hiding place, the woman spoke to Clay. “I am your lawfully wedded wife, and I want to take up where we left off thirty years ago. You know you want that, too, You’re afraid to admit it, even to yourself.”
Althea’s hand flew to her mouth. The sensation of being hit by a blow was so real, her other arm covered her belly, as if to protect her from a physical shock. In distress, she wilted against the wall.
Clay gripped the woman’s arm tight enough to bruise the white skin. “I have nothing for you now but loathing and disgust. You chose your path thirty years ago.”
The woman threw back her long red hair and laughed.
The reckless power in the laugh sent chills down Althea’s spine.
“You will do whatever I tell you to do. Remember the nursing home? You should, since you came here straight from there after the murders. A man was found dead in his bed. Given the events, an autopsy was performed. He was killed with an overdose of a narcotic. Since it was the same narcotic used to kill the other victims, the police have assigned the responsibility for the killing to one of the murderers in custody. However, they don’t know what I know.”
Clay pushed her away from him and threw up his chin in disdain. “What do you think you know?”
The beautiful woman stumbled, the triumph her face never faltering. “I know you committed murder and you think you got away with it.”
Althea felt paralyzed. She loved Clay. This woman referred to herself as his wife. The stranger also accused Clay of murder.
The longer she stood there, the greater the chance one of them would turn and see her. She did not want to be caught in the embarrassing position of eavesdropping. Althea squared her shoulders.
As a result of physical rehabilitation, Althea swept into the room. Her gait was smooth and graceful, with not even a limp to remind her of the hip she’d broken many months ago. With the full skirt of her new emerald dress, a perfect match for her eyes, swirling around her knees, she walked straight to Clay.
As he glanced away from the other woman’s intent face, Althea could have sworn she saw a fleeting emotion cross his face. She wasn’t sure if it was concern or chagrin. In the next instant, his barely lined handsome face was smooth and welcoming.
Clay turned to Althea, his thick white hair like a halo in the afternoon sun slanting in though the long windows lining the wall of the comfortable lobby. Thinking of the irony of a halo on the devil-may-care Clay, Althea smiled slightly.
“Thea, my dear, you look lovely as always.” His pure gray eyes glowed with admiration.
Taking in Clay’s pristine white shirt, perfectly pressed and neatly buttoned, and the pleated navy trousers accentuating the slim waist, Althea nodded her thanks. “And you are flawlessly debonair as always.”
A trilling laugh came from Clay’s companion. It skittered down Althea’s spine, like the old days in teaching, when fingernails sometimes scraped on chalkboards.
“Clay, my darling, introduce me! Is this your charming mother?”
A bark of laughter came from the doorway.
Althea twisted in surprise.
Her short, stout body military straight in her normal uniform of polyester smock and matching pants, Clara Eastwood paused in the doorway like a battleship checking its longitude and latitude readings. Every afternoon after lunch, the old lady firmly marched into the lobby and lowered her bulk into the largest and most comfortable chair. From her command post,
Straightening her spine and firming her jaw, Althea ordered herself to stop lurking in the corner like a lovesick teenager, and enter the room like a normal human being. If decades of teaching elementary schoolchildren had not broken her spirit, nothing would. Including this painted, pampered product of a cosmetic surgeon, with her impossibly large breasts and wrinkle-free sly face.
Before Althea could move from her impromptu hiding place, the woman spoke to Clay. “I am your lawfully wedded wife, and I want to take up where we left off thirty years ago. You know you want that, too, You’re afraid to admit it, even to yourself.”
Althea’s hand flew to her mouth. The sensation of being hit by a blow was so real, her other arm covered her belly, as if to protect her from a physical shock. In distress, she wilted against the wall.
Clay gripped the woman’s arm tight enough to bruise the white skin. “I have nothing for you now but loathing and disgust. You chose your path thirty years ago.”
The woman threw back her long red hair and laughed.
The reckless power in the laugh sent chills down Althea’s spine.
“You will do whatever I tell you to do. Remember the nursing home? You should, since you came here straight from there after the murders. A man was found dead in his bed. Given the events, an autopsy was performed. He was killed with an overdose of a narcotic. Since it was the same narcotic used to kill the other victims, the police have assigned the responsibility for the killing to one of the murderers in custody. However, they don’t know what I know.”
Clay pushed her away from him and threw up his chin in disdain. “What do you think you know?”
The beautiful woman stumbled, the triumph her face never faltering. “I know you committed murder and you think you got away with it.”
Althea felt paralyzed. She loved Clay. This woman referred to herself as his wife. The stranger also accused Clay of murder.
The longer she stood there, the greater the chance one of them would turn and see her. She did not want to be caught in the embarrassing position of eavesdropping. Althea squared her shoulders.
As a result of physical rehabilitation, Althea swept into the room. Her gait was smooth and graceful, with not even a limp to remind her of the hip she’d broken many months ago. With the full skirt of her new emerald dress, a perfect match for her eyes, swirling around her knees, she walked straight to Clay.
As he glanced away from the other woman’s intent face, Althea could have sworn she saw a fleeting emotion cross his face. She wasn’t sure if it was concern or chagrin. In the next instant, his barely lined handsome face was smooth and welcoming.
Clay turned to Althea, his thick white hair like a halo in the afternoon sun slanting in though the long windows lining the wall of the comfortable lobby. Thinking of the irony of a halo on the devil-may-care Clay, Althea smiled slightly.
“Thea, my dear, you look lovely as always.” His pure gray eyes glowed with admiration.
Taking in Clay’s pristine white shirt, perfectly pressed and neatly buttoned, and the pleated navy trousers accentuating the slim waist, Althea nodded her thanks. “And you are flawlessly debonair as always.”
A trilling laugh came from Clay’s companion. It skittered down Althea’s spine, like the old days in teaching, when fingernails sometimes scraped on chalkboards.
“Clay, my darling, introduce me! Is this your charming mother?”
A bark of laughter came from the doorway.
Althea twisted in surprise.
Her short, stout body military straight in her normal uniform of polyester smock and matching pants, Clara Eastwood paused in the doorway like a battleship checking its longitude and latitude readings. Every afternoon after lunch, the old lady firmly marched into the lobby and lowered her bulk into the largest and most comfortable chair. From her command post,
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