The Gray-Haired Knitting Detective Series: (Books 1 - 3)

by D. E. Haggerty

  I scrunch my forehead in confusion and look at Rose, who’s watching me closely. “What are all these deposits for?” She shrugs. “And why is the amount always the same?”

  “Well,” she pauses for far too long before continuing. “You can deposit up to $10,000 cash into your bank account before a bank has to report it.”

  “Report it?”

  Rose nods. “Yeah, any cash deposit over $10,000 is considered suspicious and must be reported by the bank. But here’s the thing, this should have been reported as suspicious activity anyway.”

  Suspicious activity? Is she saying Brock was involved in shady dealings? Yeah, Brock was an asshat but a criminal? I don’t think so. I blink and try to focus on Rose’s voice and her explanation. “You can only deposit $10,000 in cash over the entire year. So, for example, if someone deposits $1,000 in cash per month over the year, that adds up to $12,000 cash and the bank should report it.”

  I shake my head. “That’s just stupid. What if you’re a waitress and you only deposit your tips once a month. All of a sudden the government thinks you’re a criminal.”

  Rose nods. “Exactly. Ten-thousand dollars cash over the entire year isn’t really strange so a lot of banks don’t look too closely at accumulated deposits. They only make sure that any deposits of $10,000 or more are reported.”

  “So that’s why you think the bank didn’t report this and no one noticed anything?” I think I’m following her.

  “Yes, yes.” She clears her throat and then asks. “Do you have any idea where Brock was getting this money from?”

  I shake my head. “I have no idea, but it sure doesn’t look good.” I shrug. “I never had access to the bank accounts and frankly I didn’t ask too many questions.” I don’t bother to tell Rose why I didn’t ask questions, but I think she guesses. She grabs my hands in hers and squeezes.

  “We all want to believe the best of the people we love. Don’t blame yourself.”

  “Easier said than done,” I respond, and Rose nods in agreement with my statement.

  “We’ve got to tell Noel about this. He’s going to want to have a look.”

  I tilt my head at her. “You think this may be somehow connected to his murder.” Seems far-fetched to me but what do I know? I hand the list of deposits back to her. “Okay, we’ll talk to Noel about it, but I still don’t understand why you asked me here to discuss this with you first.”

  “There’s more.” Rose puts down the list of deposits and reaches over the table to grab another print-out. “Brock also had lots and lots of expenses.” She hands me the print-out and my eyes bug out of my head.

  “How is it possible to even spend this amount of money?” I know Brock’s a big spender. Was a big spender, I guess. But how can anyone possibly spend a few thousand dollars a night? Unless… Shoot! Was Brock paying for sex? I don’t dare to voice my question out loud. Rose is a great-grandma for gosh sakes.

  “I’m trying to research all these expenses, but I’m not so good with the whole line searching thing yet,” Rose confesses.

  “I don’t think these expenses are for anything above board.” I try to coach my thoughts in such a way that Rose doesn’t get my meaning. Of course, I should realize by now that these grandmas are more than just a bunch of gray-haired knitters.

  “Yes, I thought as much. I think he may be paying for companionship.” I look at Rose and her face is burning bright. Oh yeah, she knows exactly what I’m talking about.

  No sense beating around the bush. I nod. “I think so too, but I don’t think women of the night accept bank cards.” I try to imagine a prostitute carrying around a bank card machine, and I nearly giggle at the image. Um, no.

  Rose stands and walks to her laptop. “Maybe you could help me search?”

  I sigh and move to sit behind the laptop. “May as well,” I mumble. “Hand me that withdrawal sheet, will you?”

  I suspect that Rose knew exactly where the money was being spent and wanted me to find out for myself without an audience, because it takes me less than five minutes to discover that the vast majority of Brock’s expenses were made at a topless bar in OKC. Was Brock spending this much money on adult entertainment the whole time we were married? I thought he was a hard worker. Yeah, he was an abusive asshat and a really crappy husband, but he still worked hard. Or so I thought. I flip through the expenses, which Rose has printed out. She only went back a year, but at least for the past year, Brock has been spending more money on watching fake tits parade around a stage than he gave me for household expenses each month. Seriously, asshat is not a strong enough word for my dead husband.

  Rose grabs my shoulder and squeezes. “I’m sorry, Delilah. I’m so sorry he wasn’t the person you thought he was.”

  I sigh and reach up to grab her hand on my shoulder. “I knew he wasn’t the person I thought I married, but it still hurts.” We stand still for a few moments until Rose clears her throat. I look up at her with questions in my eyes.

  “We’re going to have to tell everyone this as well.” I nod. Of course we are. The failure that is my life is apparently everyone’s business. I want to be mad about that, but how can I be when they’re trying to save me from standing trial for a murder I most definitely didn’t commit? When my eyes skip across the expense sheets, however, I start to think someone did me a favor.

  Chapter 24

  “The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off.” Gloria Steinem

  I can’t believe I’m on my way to a titty bar. Not only am I on my way to a titty bar, but I’ve got a posse of grandmas with me. After Rose and I had finished going over Brock’s finances yesterday, we moved on to Izzy’s house to tell the rest of the group what Rose had discovered. Betty had, of course, insisted that we follow all leads and she considered Brock spending a ton of money at a titty bar a great lead. I’m pretty sure Betty just wanted to have an excuse to visit a topless bar. But when Noel mentioned that Detective Smith thought Brock cheating on me was a motive for murder, the rest of her posse jumped on the bandwagon. I didn’t stand a chance.

  I think it’s a wild goose chase, but there’s no way I’m letting the grandmas run off to a shady part of the city without me. And okay, I may just be the teensy bit curious what kept Brock’s attention so enamored that he spent ungodly amounts of money looking at it. I’m relieved that Tommy had to work. Man, he was pissed. He made Jack and Damien promise that they’d protect me. I’m surprised they didn’t cut their fingers and make a blood pact.

  Noel is following up on the numerous unidentified deposits in the bank accounts and isn’t on our excursion to the adult entertainment world either. He’s pretty peeved that Izzy’s with us, but she couldn’t be stopped. She can’t wait to have a look at the boobs on display. She wants to compare her pregnancy-enlarged breasts with plastic boobs. Or something like that. I stopped listening when every other word coming out of her mouth was boobs or titties.

  Our convoy pulls up to the strip club and I stare at the building in shock. Huh, it looks just like I thought it would. The building is a squat, one-story brick structure. The bricks have been painted black, probably because black covers a multitude of sins. The parking lot is large and littered with broken beer bottles and things made of rubber that I’m just going to pretend I don’t see.

  I climb out of the car with Izzy, Jack, and Damien close behind. Izzy is staring with wide eyes and a huge smile on her face. I shake my head at the crazy pregnant woman’s enjoyment of a strip club. Jack and Damien are gawking at the parking lot with disgust. I hear car doors slam and turn to see the grandma brigade rushing toward us.

  I follow Jack and Damien as they hurry to the entrance. They’re walking on their tiptoes to avoid touching anything that may have inadvertently found its way to the parking lot ground. I just shake my head. The entrance is open and in the small area between the open front door and the second door sits a man on a stool. As we approach, he stands and cross his arms over his chest. Oh, my god! Call the press,
we’ve found King Kong and he’s apparently a bouncer at a titty bar in the outskirts of Oklahoma City.

  “Hey man,” Jack says to King Kong and attempts to saunter past.

  King Kong shakes his head. “Um no, I can’t let you in.” He points to Grandma and her posse. “They are instant boner killers. Not good for business, man.”

  Betty huffs. “You’re going to let in two gay men but not us?”

  King Kong shrugs. “I don’t care if the gay dudes want to make a stripper sandwich. But the customers are going to run out of here like their asses are on fire the second this AARP bus arrives.”

  The ladies huff, but they know a lost cause when they see one. Betty looks ready to take on the gorilla. Thankfully, Grandma and her cronies grab her arms and pull her away from the entrance before she starts a riot. Izzy watches them leave and then turns to the bouncer whose eyes about bug out when he sees her baby bump.

  “What are you trying to do to me? First, old ladies and now a pregnant one.” He points at Izzy’s bump. “You! No! These men don’t need to be reminded of the consequences of fooling around on the side.”

  Izzy rubs her belly but shrugs and follows the ladies to their car. I turn to the giant-sized man and see his gaze on me. “Am I okay? Can I go in?”

  The giant’s eyes sweep from head to toe over me and suddenly I feel like I need a shower. I shiver as he reaches to his crotch and adjusts himself. Gross. Totally gross. “Oh yeah, babe, you’re welcome. Make sure you talk to the bartender about dancing. You’d make a killing.”

  My eyes bug out and I stare at Jack, silently begging him to do something. He grabs my hand and pulls me into the club with Damien following. The decorating screams titty bar, which is good I guess since it is a titty bar. The walls look like they are covered with purple shag carpet. The tables are low and made of glass. Some of them even have poles in the middle of them. There’s an M-shaped stage on which three women are dancing topless. There are only about a dozen men in the entire joint.

  Jack walks quickly to the bar, but Damien follows more slowly; his eyes glued to the women on the stage. I turn to look at him. “Checking out the talent for your stripper sandwich?” I joke, but Damien’s obsession with the women makes me pause. I raise an eyebrow at him. “Have you ever?” I stop. Is it appropriate to ask a gay man if he’s ever had sex with a woman?

  Jack clears his throat. I look at him and he nods. “Damien has dabbled in the hetero world.”

  My eyebrows lift. “Really? Have you?” Maybe he and Izzy have experimented together. What a great topic for girls’ night out. Jack dashes my hopes for some juicy gossip when he shakes his head.

  “Nope. I’ve always known I was gay. Damien took his time figuring things out.” He glares at Damien, obviously unhappy with Damien’s current ‘experimenting.’ The right-side of Damien’s mouth tips up in a ghost of a smile. He turns to Jack and his smile turns full blown. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. I’m just looking. They come is so many different shapes and sizes.” I giggle. “But they don’t do anything for me.”

  As if to confirm that statement, Jack turns his gaze lower to that certain spot of Damien’s pants and then smiles. Naked breasts really don’t do it for Damien. Okay then. Now what? Jack grabs Damien’s hand and pulls him to the bar. He grabs the bartender’s attention and order three beers.

  “You drink beer?” I’m beyond shocked.

  Jack makes a face of disgust. “Even if I didn’t, there’s no way I’m drinking anything that doesn’t come in a bottle in this place.”

  The bartender saunters over and he plops the beers in front of us. He’s about to turn around when he catches my eye. “Hey, beautiful,” he leans over to speak to me. “What’s a good girl like you doing in a place like this?”

  I snort. Seriously, lame! I start to dismiss him when I remember why we’re here. “Actually, we’re here about my husband.” His face immediately shuts down and he starts to walk away. “I don’t care what he was doing here.” The bartender stops and lifts an eyebrow at me. “I left the asshat anyway.” A ghost of a smile appears on his face now. “But then he went and got himself killed and they think I did it. Me!”

  The bartender returns and puts his elbows on the bar, leaning as far forward as possible. I’m suddenly very aware of my scoop-necked t-shirt. “They think you killed your husband?” He looks me up and down. “What a waste of good pussy that would be if you were in jail.”

  I blink rapidly at his choice of words. “I didn’t do it.”

  Now it’s his turn to snort. “Yeah, sure.”

  “Seriously, dude, she’s innocent,” Jack chimes in. The bartender turns his gaze to Jack.

  “You the new boyfriend?” Jack snorts, but Damien looks angry as he puts his arm around Jack and pulls him close. “I guess not then.” He turns back to me. “I’ll tell you what. You go up there and dance for me and I’ll answer your questions.”

  I don’t know if he’s serious or not, but I’m seriously not going to show my tatas to anyone in this place. I just raise an eyebrow at him. He sighs and deflates a bit. “I’m seriously tired of those tits. We could use some new talent.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, who was your husband?”

  “Brock Clark,” I say and then find a picture of him on my phone. Good thing I’ve been too lazy to clean up the photos. I show him the picture and he nods.

  “Oh yeah, big spender. Was in here all the time,” he answers immediately.

  “Any chance he was in some kind of trouble or something?” Jack asks.

  “Nah,” the bartender shakes his head.

  “He spent a lot of money here. Are lap dances really that expensive?” It’s not a rhetorical question. I have no idea what stuff like that costs and I need to know what Brock was spending all that money on.

  “Think you can handle the truth, sugar tits?” I shrug. It’s not like I have a choice. “He liked it dirty. Real dirty, if you get my meaning.” I haven’t even read that erotic gray-something or other book everyone is talking about so I doubt I have any idea, but I nod as if I do. “I didn’t tell you, but the back rooms are used for ‘extracurricular activities.'” He nods to a hallway in the back.

  “And you can just use your bank card for something like that?” I raise an eyebrow at him.

  “Sure,” he shrugs. “Money’s money.”

  Jack looks like he just swallowed something icky and Damien doesn’t look much better. “Come on,” Jack says and grabs my hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

  As Jack and Damien pull me towards the entrance, the bartender whistles for my attention. I look back and he smiles. “Come back anytime sugar tits.” Yeah right, like that’s gonna happen.

  Chapter 25

  “A flood of emotions rushes into me. Pain and anger. Sadness and pity. But most surprising of all, hope.” Jay Asher, Thirteen Reasons Why

  Instead of lounging in my flannel PJs with a glass of wine and a book boyfriend, I’m at the local sports bar. I don’t really know how I got here. When we walked out of the stripper club, the grandmas and Izzy practically attacked us with questions. Jack just made a face at them and said it was a dead-end. Damien and I nodded rapidly in agreement. No way was I telling my grandma my dead husband liked to have dirty sex with strippers in the back room of a strip club. The grandmas looked utterly disappointed until Ally suggested they stop at some roadside restaurant for the senior special. They took off and I was stuck in a car with Izzy’s imitation of Curious George. And now we’re at the sports bar in town.

  We’re sitting at the bar waiting for a table to open up. The place is packed with families hurrying to eat vast amounts of bar food before things get rowdy. Although it can’t get much more boisterous than the bunch of kids running around screaming and yelling. I’m tuning out everyone and everything. Instead I’m staring at my beer wondering how many I can drink before I can forget. “My husband liked to have dirty sex with whores, strippers, whatever.” I could really use a shower or ten. “I need to go
to the doctor and have a complete check-up for whatever diseases someone can get from having dirty sex.” I shiver. Maybe a bath in bleach?

  “This is why a girl should never marry the first man she sleeps with,” Izzy claims. “Our girly parts get all confused. We think we’re in love when we’re really just having a sexual awakening or horny or something.”

  “I should have never told her that Brock was my first.” I shake my head before I realize I said that out loud. I feel my face heat and I duck my head.

  “Don’t worry. Izzy’s first husband was her first too.” Jack shrugs while Izzy huffs.

  I stare at her and raise my eyebrow. “Seriously? You totally broke the girl code. You don’t let your girl get embarrassed by something like that without sharing.”

  Izzy isn’t bothered by my outburst. To be honest, it wasn’t much of an outburst. I’m still working on finding my sass. Maybe someday I’ll even grow some balls. It could happen. “I’m starving,” she blurts out.

  I shake my head, but Jack growls. “Yes, we know. You told us that about a gazillion times on the drive back to town.” Damien grabs Jack and starts devouring his lips. It seems Jack’s growling is a turn-on. I shrug and turn back to Izzy, who has somehow managed to find a bowl of nuts and is inhaling them.

  My eyes land on the television. There’s a break in the sports when the news comes on. I never watch the news. If I want to get depressed, I can examine my own life, thank you very much. I drink my beer and just stare at the screen. I can’t hear it anyway. But then I see a familiar face. “Hey, I know that guy,” I say as I point to the television.

  “What?” Izzy mumbles with her mouth full of nuts.

  I continue to stare at the television. “I know that guy.” I continue to point at the screen.

  Jack unwinds himself from Damien’s hold and yells at the bartender. “Hey, buddy, can you turn up this television?” The bartender looks at the news on the television. He raises his eyebrows at Jack, but shrugs and turns up the volume.