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

by Hart, Liliana

  “Are you tied up for the rest of the day, or do you have some free time?” Brody asked, ignoring Jack.

  “We’re going to Nottingham this morning to interview a few people about the murder, but I’m available this evening.”

  “How about dinner? There’s a nice little Italian place over in Port Royal I’d like to take you to.”

  “Dinner sounds great,” I said. I knew I had a dopey grin on my face, but there was nothing I could do about it. I watched Brody make his way towards the Escalade.

  “Six o’clock, Dr. Graves,” he called out.

  “I’ll be ready.” I could feel the anger radiating off Jack in waves. I was surprised he wasn’t standing in a melted pile of snow his anger was so hot.

  “Who the hell is that guy, Jaye? And when did the two of you get so cozy?”

  “I introduced you, but you were too busy acting like a jealous lover to take notice. Brody is a very nice man, and yes, I’m attracted to him. But it’s none of your business one way or the other.”

  We were standing toe to toe now, and our voices carried far across the quiet ground.

  “The man has player written all over him, Jaye.”

  “Are you kidding me? I’m thirty years old. I’m not getting any younger. I haven’t had sex in four years! I’m thrilled to death to meet a player. I don’t suppose it’s occurred to you that I’d like to do something with my life besides play poker and slice up bodies, or that maybe I’d like to have a family. You have parents and brothers and sisters and uncles and aunts to go home to for the holidays, Jack. I get tired of being alone.”

  Jack brought his hand up to put it gently on the side of my face, but I jerked away before he could make contact. Sympathy would only make the tears that were threatening fall, and I’d embarrassed myself enough for one day.

  “And who are you to pass judgment? A player, my ass. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You’d know better than anyone what one looks like. I don’t think I passed judgment on your little tryst with the lab tech yesterday. You know why? Because it’s not any of my business what happens in your love life.”

  “Everyone deserves happiness in their life, Jack, even me, and I can’t remember the last time I was truly happy. My life has spiraled out of control, and I can’t seem to stop it. And if I want to have sex with Brody Collins in the middle of the Towne Square, it’s nobody’s business but my own. You’re acting like a jealous lover instead of my best friend.”

  I could have sworn I saw hurt in his eyes, and I almost apologized, but the look was gone before I could blink. His anger didn’t dissipate but grew more intense—colder—a living thing that smoldered just under the surface but was contained by ice.

  “Go get dressed. We’ve wasted enough time this morning,” he said. I stood on my front stairs and watched him walk inside, and for the first time that morning I didn’t notice the cold that surrounded me. But I did feel the emptiness without Jack’s presence.

  Chapter Nine

  Jack waited in the kitchen and made a pot of coffee while I went upstairs to shower and change clothes. I dressed in a pair of tan corduroy pants and a thick sweater the color of raspberries, blew my hair dry and put on the minimum amount of makeup needed for a day out in public. I was the poster child for low maintenance living.

  By the time I’d come downstairs, Jack had slathered a couple of bagels with cream cheese, so I was guessing he didn’t feel like eating with me after all. And if I had to judge by the surly look on his face, it didn’t look like we’d be having lunch together either.

  During the ride to Dr. Hides’ residence, I mentally went over the items in my closet that would be good enough for dinner with Brody. And by good enough, I meant sexy. He’d only seen me at my worst. The only problem was the freezing temperature, so I obviously had to wear something warm. It probably wouldn’t make a good impression if I wore the little cocktail dress I’d bought for my ten year reunion and then died of hypothermia before we made it to dinner.

  I jerked forward when Jack slammed on the brakes and oomphed when my seatbelt cut off my air. I looked over to give Jack a dirty look, but he was already out of the car.

  Dr. Hides’ townhouse was very respectable in a completely boring way. It was a dark, red bricked three-story building like the others that lined the rest of the street, and identical white painted dormers were lined across the second floor. There was a bronze nameplate to the right side of the door that said, Dr. Henry Hides, PhD. Psychotherapy. The door to the left of Dr. Hides’ house had an identical nameplate, but the name read Victor Moreno, Attorney at Law.

  “Nice area,” I commented. “Expensive.” Jack remained silent so I elbowed him in the ribs just to make sure he was still breathing. Probably not the wisest thing to do considering the kind of mood he was in. I rang the buzzer before he could retaliate.

  A man opened the door. He was short—shorter than me—and stocky. He wore a brown cardigan over a white dress shirt and tie, and a pair of black, thick-rimmed glasses stuck out of his shirt pocket. He was probably in his late forties if I had to judge by the amount of grey in his hair and the age lines on his face.

  “I’m sorry folks, I’m not a marriage counselor,” he said and began to shut the door in our faces. I snorted out a laugh before I could help it, and this time it was Jack who elbowed me in the ribs.

  “Are you Dr. Hides?” Jack asked.

  “Yes, who are you?”

  “I’m Sheriff Lawson. We spoke on the phone yesterday about the death of Fiona Murphy. This is Dr. Graves. She’s the King George County Coroner. We’d like to take a few minutes of your time if you don’t mind.”

  Dr. Hides looked like he wanted to say no and shut the door in our faces, but he obviously thought better of it and invited us inside. The interior of the place reminded me a little of Dr. Hides. Expensive, but dull.

  “I have a patient coming in half an hour. I hope this won’t take too long.” The warning was clear, and Jack acknowledged that we’d be out of his way shortly. I guess it wouldn’t be good publicity for a client to see the police questioning their therapist. Or maybe he didn’t want us to see who was coming in. It made me wonder if Fiona Murphy was the only person in Bloody Mary who used the services of the good doctor.

  “I’m sorry to say, Sheriff Lawson, that I don’t know how much help I can be. I’ve reviewed my files and have found nothing that brought out a red flag as to why Mrs. Murphy would be murdered. And there is the problem of patient confidentiality.”

  “It never hurts to ask questions,” Jack said as a response.

  Dr. Hides led us past a large cherry wood desk that was obviously where his secretary sat during the normal work week. There was only a computer on the surface. Everything of importance was locked in the file cabinets that lined the wall behind the desk. Business must have been good for Dr. Hides. A narrow staircase sat to the left of the room and a large balcony overlooked the foyer we were currently standing in.

  “Do you usually have weekend appointments?” I asked.

  “Only when a patient feels like one is necessary. My secretary, Janette, only comes in Monday through Friday though, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  I was a little disappointed to see his office didn’t have the ubiquitous leather couch that I thought existed in every psychologist’s office. Instead there were two identical overstuffed club chairs that sat in front of his desk.

  “You told me on the phone yesterday that Fiona had been your patient for four years,” Jack said.

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “And Fiona came twice a week, religiously, over those four years?” Jack asked.

  “I’d have to recheck my files just to be certain, but I can’t remember Fiona ever cancelling a session.”

  “How much are your services, Dr. Hides?”

  “To my independent clients I have a flat rate of two hundred dollars per fifty minute session.”

  I sucked in a wheezing breath through my m
outh and tried to do the math in my head of how much Fiona had given this guy over the last four years. The number I came up with wasn’t pretty.

  “What do you mean independent clients?” I asked after my shock wore off.

  “Some of my patients are either court or hospital appointed. Those clients are paid for by the state of Virginia, so obviously the rate is quite significantly lowered.”

  It made sense to me. The state screwed Dr. Hides, so Dr. Hides screwed his patients in return by charging astronomical fees.

  “We’d like to collect any files you have on Fiona while we’re here,” Jack said, taking a seat next to me in one of the chairs. Dr. Hides took his place behind the desk, and I wondered if he noticed that Jack was doing everything in his power to pretend I wasn’t even in the room. I sure as hell noticed, and that brought my simmering anger at our argument back up to a boil. I was the one who should be mad, not Jack.

  “I’m sorry, Sheriff Lawson, but for my protection and my client’s I’m not allowed to give you access.”

  “That’s fine, I can have a warrant delivered this afternoon,” Jack said blandly.

  “That may be, but until you have one in your hand I will not allow you to see any patient’s files. Murder or no. And quite frankly, I’d prefer if only you took responsibility for transporting and then keeping the files confidential,” he said. “Even the police departments like to gossip in a small town.” His smile was thin and insulting, and I could feel Jack bristle beside me at the implication.

  “Is there a reason you’d like to impede this investigation, Dr. Hides?”

  “I’ll help you any way I can, but my patient’s privacy is of the utmost importance.”

  “It seems to me that as a doctor you’d want the victim to have justice. That makes all kinds of alarms go off inside my head when I find someone who doesn’t. I might feel the need to take a closer look at exactly what kind of therapy you’re providing.”

  “Is that a threat?” Dr. Hides asked, standing up from his chair slightly.

  “No, sir,” Jack said. “Just an observation.”

  I thought the doctor was trying to do everything he could to be an inconvenience, and I was angry on behalf of Fiona that a man she paid thousands of dollars to for years didn’t seem to want to help find her killer. But Jack was as calm as he ever was. The show of temper this morning had been a rare sight indeed. And he acted now as if he hadn’t a care in the world, so I tried to follow suit and blank my face of any unsatisfactory opinions.

  “You seemed surprised when I called you to tell you about Fiona’s death yesterday, Dr. Hides.”

  “Of course I was shocked. It’s not everyday one of my clients is murdered.”

  “She was your patient for four years, so surely you saw the bruises that decorated her body. You’d be trained to recognize the signs of abuse, wouldn’t you?”

  Dr. Hides licked his lips nervously and my radar went up at his reluctance to say what he was thinking.

  “Yes, I was aware of Fiona’s bruises, and I tried to get her to tell me what happened to cause them, but the subject was off-limits. She even threatened to not come back if I ever brought it up again, so I left it alone.”

  He was lying, and he’d obviously taken a few moments to collect himself and decide what story he was going to feed us.

  “So you were aware that she was an abused woman, even if she didn’t confide in you, but you were still surprised that I called you and told you she’d been murdered, more than likely by her abuser’s hands.”

  Jack made it more of a statement than a question, and the doctor opted to stay silent, which was probably the smartest thing he’d done since we walked in the office.

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Hides,” I said, “But I just find it hard to believe that this woman was your patient for that long and you didn’t speak about the most obvious topic. Why was she coming to you at all if it wasn’t to help with the abuse?”

  “I think Fiona was more lonely than anything,” he said, carefully. “She’d married young, too young, and found that she didn’t love the man she’d made vows to. And the vows were important to Fiona. She didn’t want to break them.”

  “But she did,” I interrupted. “She’d gotten the courage to leave him the night she was murdered.”

  The surprised look on the doctor’s face was the first genuine emotion I’d seen. “I take it by your surprise that she didn’t mention at her Thursday morning appointment that she was packing her bags and heading to Florida to live with her sister?”

  “No, no, I don’t believe you. She’d tell me if she was going to make a change that drastic.” The doctor was perspiring just slightly above his upper lip.

  “I’m sorry Dr. Hides, but it’s true,” Jack said. “Did you have a personal relationship with the victim?”

  “Of course not. That wouldn’t be ethical.”

  Dr. Hides’ skin held a pallor that hadn’t been there a few seconds ago. His mouth was pinched, and I his pulse beat rapidly in his neck. Once again, he was lying, I thought. But why? Surely if Fiona had been involved with more than one man sexually, one of those men would have mentioned the bruises.

  “What about her moods? Did she exhibit extreme highs or lows in behavior? Depression? Did she feel safe?”

  “You’re skirting the line, Sheriff. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait for that warrant.”

  “Can you give us your whereabouts for Thursday night between the hours of seven and midnight?”

  The shock wore off quickly and Dr. Hides was back to being himself. I was sure the break in his composure wasn’t something that happened very often. Dr. Hides was a man of utmost control.

  “I resent the implication that I had anything to do with Fiona’s death, and I’d like to call my attorney if you keep on with this avenue of questioning.”

  “You’re welcome to call your attorney, Dr. Hides, but the question is just a formality. It will help us move in the right direction if we can clear your name off the list.”

  “Very well, but I don’t think you’re going to be able to take me off your list,” he said, locking his hands together in a tight grip on top of his desk and leaning forward slightly. His hands were clasped in a white knuckled grip, and it was easy to see the rage that lay just below the surface.

  “I was home all evening Thursday night. I saw my last patient from five to six, and then I handed the file to Janette to lock up before she headed home a few minutes after the hour. I had a light dinner, reviewed a few files for my patients the following day and then went to bed after the evening news at ten thirty.”

  Jack was writing everything down in the little notebook he habitually carried everywhere, and I wondered if it was difficult to keep all the lies and truths and half-truths straight from one suspect to the next. I knew from experience that no one told the whole truth all the time, myself included.

  Dr. Hides stood from behind his desk and walked towards the door. “Now if you folks will excuse me, my patient will be here shortly. And if you have any other questions please contact my attorney.”

  “Thanks for your time, Dr. Hides,” Jack said. “I’ll be back with that warrant for Fiona’s files.”

  Dr. Hides didn’t bother to respond to that statement or tell us good-bye, but he showed us out and closed the door behind us with a finality that ran shivers down my spine.

  “Dr. Hides is a dirty, rotten liar,” I said as I headed towards the passenger side of the Suburban. “Did you notice how he was more upset about Fiona cancelling her sessions with him than her actual murder?”

  “Oh, yes. And I think we need to add Janette to our list of people to question. Secretaries are usually a pretty good judge of people in my estimation. I’d think it would be pretty tempting to take a peep at a person’s file every so often. We’ll check her out after lunch, but for now let’s head to the Alexandretta Boutique.”

  I let out a slow breath and was glad we were at least speaking civilly, if not warmly to each other again
. It was almost a relief that a murder investigation cleared the air, even if it was only short-lived.

  Jack started the car and turned the heater up to full blast before doing a u-turn in the middle of the fairly empty street and heading two blocks north. All the shops that lined the Towne Square were exclusive and high-end, mostly there to gouge the tourists or women like Candy Harlowe.

  The Alexandretta Boutique was the mother of all stores. I looked down at my corduroy pants and hiking boots and hoped they let me in the door. The glass-front display windows had Alexandretta Boutique written very tastefully in small gold letters in the bottom corner, and behind the glass were mannequins who wore elegant designer gowns. I guess nothing said Merry Christmas like spending two thousand dollars on yourself for a party dress. I let Jack go in first, sure that he’d draw all female eyes in his direction and take the heat off me.

  There were only a handful of women in the store so early in the morning, especially on the morning after one of the biggest storms in years. The tiny blonde behind the counter was cool and professional, and she wore a beautiful turquoise suit with big clunky silver jewelry. Sometimes I wished I could be more like her. Femininely competent. Petite. I could do without the blonde hair. I’d tried that fashion statement my sophomore year of college and ended up looking like Ronald McDonald. So the lesson was learned. Never use peroxide on dark hair.

  Jack and I stayed towards the back of the shop while she finished ringing up customers and wishing them happy holidays in a husky, slightly accented voice. Great, she was also cultured and well-traveled. Was there anything this woman didn’t have going for her?

  I was about to make a comment to Jack about ogling potential witnesses when I saw what I wanted on a mannequin. It was exactly what I needed to knock Brody’s socks off. The dress was a long sweep of cashmere. It had a cowl neck and flowed all the way to the ankles in a forest green so dark it was almost black. A column of twisted gold draped around the waist and hugged the hips. It skimmed the body enough to reveal a womanly figure without showing everything you had.