Sarah Woods Mystery Series (1-6) Boxed Set

by Jennifer L. Jennings

  Benjamin threw his hands up in defeat. “Guilty as charged. But I figured since she threatened to kill me, I might as well have a little fun and destroy her party.”

  Detective James wiped his forehead. “Is there any evidence that proves Emily caused her first husband’s car accident? Do you have names of people who can confirm this?”

  “No. But go ahead and look into it. She was living in Rhode Island at the time. I think it was about five years ago. Her husband’s name was Gary Buckley. She raked in half a million bucks from his life insurance. I’m willing to bet Emily stands to get another large check from Paul’s death. Call the insurance company right now if you don’t believe me.”

  “She told me the life insurance policy was on her, not Paul,” I said.

  Benjamin rolled his eyes. “Of course she told you that.”

  Detective James got on his phone and barked orders at someone. When he ended the call, he wiped his forehead again, then turned his attention back to Benjamin. “We’ll find out if you’re right in a few minutes.”

  Benjamin chuckled. “If I’m right, and I know I am, I’d love to see the look on her face when you throw those handcuffs on her wrists.”

  “We can’t arrest her,” the detective said. “But we can arrange to bring her in for questioning. I will not put this lady through anymore unnecessary trauma.”

  “Emily left this morning,” I said. “Took a bus to Florida to stay with your parents.”

  Benjamin shook his head, and laughed with contempt. “Our parents died over twenty years ago.”

  I felt like someone had punched me in the gut. “What?”

  “We can track Emily’s cell phone,” Detective James said. “We’ll find her.”

  “Emily’s cell phone has been disconnected,” I added.

  Benjamin leaned back with a smug expression. “I hate to say it, guys, but Emily is long gone. She’s probably been planning this for months … maybe years. Most insurance companies require a minimum of three years on a policy before they pay up. You think the timing is a coincidence?”

  “How could she fake her liver disease?” I asked. “The yellowing of her skin and eyes. Emily is truly not in good health.”

  “Come on. How hard would it be to fake that?” Benjamin said. “She could have used makeup.”

  I glanced at Detective James. I could tell by his tense expression that he was starting to believe the brother’s story.

  “Okay, so she lied about her parents,” I said. “That doesn’t make her a murderer. Maybe you’re trying to frame her.”

  He sputtered another laugh. “Frame her? How does that benefit me? Besides, I didn’t even know what had happened until I read the article in this morning’s paper. That’s probably why she got the hell out of town. She figured I’d catch wind of this and bring her house of cards down.”

  “Then why did she hire me?” I asked. “Why draw attention to herself if she was planning to have Paul killed. It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Actually, makes perfect sense,” Detective James said, tapping his fingers on the table. “Emily told you Paul was poisoning her for one very good reason. Just so you’d set up those hidden cameras in the kitchen. That surveillance was a key part of her plan to secure an alibi. Whether or not Hector knew about the surveillance, we’ll never know.”

  For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. It was starting to make sense, but it still seemed to be such a ludicrous plot. “But she was attacked. Hector stabbed her in the leg.”

  The detective shrugged. “Could have been a clever move to help prove she was a victim.”

  Benjamin offered a lame pout. “Don’t take it personally. My sister is very good at this. If you think you were gullible, just think of Paul. That guy was totally clueless. He actually believed his wife was dying. Did she ever mention her doctor’s name, or where his office was located? Did she show you any lab reports for her blood work?”

  “No,” I said. “I didn’t think that was necessary.”

  The phone rang and Detective James snatched it up. “What have you got? Yep … okay. Find out which bank and let me know.” He set the phone back down and looked at me. “Emily is getting two million.”

  Benjamin leaned back, smiling. “So, you guys believe me now?”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose to ease the throbbing in my head. “If Hector was hired to kill Paul, why didn’t you find any money on him? He was broke.”

  “Maybe she planned to pay Hector once she got her life insurance settlement,” he said. “Or she never planned to give him money at all. She knew the surveillance would incriminate him either way. And your testimony would help secure her innocence.”

  I felt like a fool. I remembered the day I went over to the house when she wouldn’t answer her phone. Hector had just come out of the house, and she’d seemed frazzled when I walked in. Maybe they’d just had sex. “What if Emily was having an affair with Hector, and made promises they’d be together once Paul was out of the picture?”

  The detective nodded. “Wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened.”

  I slapped my hand on the desk. “Except, she probably never imagined her gentle husband would come to her rescue and kill Hector. Maybe that part of the plan backfired.”

  Benjamin clapped his hands. “Look at you guys go.”

  I ignored him, keeping my attention on the detective. “What about Hector’s bus ticket? Maybe Emily purchased it with Paul’s credit card.”

  He nodded. “Big question is, where is she going?”

  “Linda dropped her off at the bus station. They require a photo I.D. these days, so she could be in the system.”

  “True. But she could have bought a ticket for anywhere, and got off at any stop along the way. In any case, the insurance company will need a new address to send a check. We’ll be able to track her down once Emily calls them with her new location.”

  Benjamin pushed up from his chair and stretched his arms over his head like he was already bored. “Well, I can see you two got this. I should head back to the city before rush hour.”

  Detective James got to his feet. “Hey, if the DA is able to form a case against your sister for conspiracy to commit murder, will you testify for them as a character witness?”

  “Sure, man. You have my number.”

  After Benjamin left the office, the detective gathered the papers on his desk and stuffed them into a leather satchel.

  “What happens now?” I asked.

  “I need to make some more calls to corroborate Benjamin’s theory. It’s going to be a long day.”

  I grabbed my purse and rose from my seat. “Do you believe him?”

  “It’s compelling. The insurance money is a game changer.”

  “If Benjamin is telling the truth, Paul was framed by his own wife and her lover. Why didn’t we ever consider that?”

  “Because Emily was dying, and everyone felt bad for her. It was a genius plot, but her brother saw right through it. If he hadn’t seen that article and put two and two together …”

  “Look, I just want to say thank you for including me in this conversation. I know you were not obligated to.”

  He gave a curt nod. “No problem. Just keep this under wraps for a few days until we get some answers.”

  “What about Linda? She’s worried sick about Emily. Do I keep this from her?”

  “Maybe it would be a good idea to keep her abreast. That way, if Emily decides to call her, she’ll be prepared to say the right things.”

  “What are the chances you’ll find Emily?” I asked.

  “Oh, we’ll find her. If she tries to cash the life insurance, it’ll be easy.”

  “And if she doesn’t? What if she disappears and becomes someone else and forgoes the money?”

  “Then we keep looking.”

  When I got back home, I stretched out on the couch and closed my eyes. The throbbing in my head was excruciating.

  How was I going to tell Linda?

/>   I rewound the past few weeks in my mind, trying to make sense of it all. Every word out of Emily’s mouth had been a lie. Her plan had worked quite well, thanks to me.

  I was beginning to think my chosen career path was the wrong one.

  And when I told Max and Carter the truth about Emily, they’d probably agree with me.

  I finally picked up the phone to call Linda. When she answered, I could tell by her voice she was a nervous wreck.

  I told her to sit down … then I told her everything.

  Two weeks later

  “I’m sorry, Carter, I really thought Linda would show up. She seemed excited to meet you, I swear.”

  Carter was wearing a button down shirt with a tie, and had his hair slicked back with gel. “Maybe she’s not ready to meet anyone.”

  We were at my favorite restaurant, Angelina’s, seated at the best table in the house. Max was by my side, his hand in my lap. His other hand gestured to something outside. “Is that her by the telephone pole?”

  I peered out the window. Linda looked stunning, clad in a beige suit, her auburn hair cascading down her shoulders. I watched as she paced back and forth on the sidewalk.

  “Maybe I should go talk to her. She’s probably nervous.” I excused myself from the table and went outside.

  Linda spotted me and smiled wearily. “I know this is rude of me, but I don’t think I can do this.”

  “Do what? You’re just meeting someone … you’re not getting engaged.”

  Linda shook her head. “I’m sure Carter is a nice guy and all, but as I told you before, I’m damaged goods.”

  “You have to understand, Carter didn’t want to come here tonight, either. It’s not my place to tell you all his secrets, but he’s been hurt. His daughter overdosed years ago and died. A person can never recover from something like that.”

  “That’s heartbreaking. Maybe he deserves someone better than me.”

  “Better than you?” I said. “You are a warm, giving person. You drink too much, but so what. We all have our things.””

  Linda fidgeted with her bracelet. “Why are you so intent on fixing us up?”

  “Because you’re both wonderful people. And you’re both your own worst enemies.”

  “Did you tell him I have a drinking problem?”

  “He’s not one to judge.”

  Linda nodded. “Okay, fine. I’ll be in shortly. I promise. I just need a minute to breathe.”

  I squeezed her arm, then went back inside.

  Max looked up. “Is she coming?”

  “Yeah, she’s just nervous.”

  Carter didn’t seem fazed. “Is she still having a tough time dealing with Emily’s disappearance?”

  “They were close friends,” I said. “It’s a huge blow.”

  “They still haven’t found her, huh?” Carter asked, taking a sip of water.

  “No. She hasn’t claimed the life insurance money yet. She’s probably hiding somewhere, trying to figure out her next move.”

  “She hasn’t tried to contact Linda?”

  “Nope. Detective James set up a wire tap on her phones just in case she does.”

  “Sounds like Emily is way too smart for that,” Carter said.

  “You’re probably right. But they’ll find her one way or another. Meanwhile, Linda is doing everything in her power to clear Paul’s name.”

  I saw Linda walk in and approach the table with trepidation in her eyes. Carter looked over and immediately stood up. I introduced them and he pulled out a chair for her. She seemed impressed and thanked him with one of her charming smiles.

  “Well,” I said, “Now that we’re all here, I’d like to propose a toast.” I held up my glass of wine. “I just got a call from my new friend, Dylan McCormick. Gavin Cole was arrested this morning for three counts of fraud, illegal gambling, and sexual assault on a minor. I’m on the list of witnesses, should it go to trial, but Dylan thinks he’ll cop a plea. Either way, he’s gonna spend some time in jail, and hopefully—fingers crossed—he’ll get a dose of his own medicine.”

  Everyone clinked glasses.

  “Yes,” Max said. “It would be fitting if he became some guy’s bitch in the slammer.”

  I lifted my glass again. “Here, here. I’ll drink to that.”

  The End

  The Masque of Innocence

  By Jennifer L. Jennings

  Copyright © 2013

  Query Publishing LLC

  This is a work of fiction. All names, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

  Prologue

  My name is Sarah Woods. I’m forty-three, divorced, and until a year ago, I’d been running a successful massage therapy business in the small, seacoast town of Bridgeport, New Hampshire. That is until the unthinkable happened.

  After the brutal murder of my receptionist Beth Stevens, I wanted to help find her killer because I felt partly responsible. If she hadn’t been working late that night, maybe her life wouldn’t have ended so abruptly. Determined to seek justice, I assisted the police with their investigation. And once the case was solved, it set the wheels in motion for a major career change for me.

  Carter was the first private detective I’d ever met. An ex-cop from Boston, he left the force to strike out on his own. As a private detective for over ten years, the unconventional methods he used to solve cases often worked to his benefit, including the time he hired me to go undercover and lure a cheating husband.

  That defining moment changed everything. I decided to take classes in criminology with the goal of obtaining a private detective’s license while working in the field to gain experience under Carter’s tutelage.

  But in the school of life, things don’t always go as planned. There is a thin line between guilty and innocent. And following your instincts can prove to be a deadly game.

  Chapter 1

  It was October, the New England sky almost dark at five-thirty when Carter and I pulled into the circular driveway and parked. We exited my Toyota and looked around.

  Alice Rossini lived in a brick, two-story Georgian Colonial with flattened columns on each side of the front door. The façade was impressive with decorative moldings over the entry and multi-paned windows, symmetrically spaced. Prescott Heights was known for its historic homes dating back to the early 1700’s. This one was a gem.

  “Does Alice live here all by herself?” I asked Carter. “Must be at least ten bedrooms in this place.”

  “I have no idea,” he said. “We didn’t talk very long on the phone. She preferred to discuss the potential job in person.”

  “She must be loaded,” I said.

  Carter shrugged. “She sounded elderly. If I had to guess, somewhere in her eighties.”

  “So why would an old woman need to hire a private investigator?”

  “She’s worried about a friend who suddenly left town. It’s probably nothing. Hey…why don’t you take the lead on this one? You’re ready.”

  I paused. “Are you sure? What if she asks to see my license?”

  “Then you tell her the truth,” he said. “You’re working as my apprentice until you finish your classes. You’ll have your license in less than six months.”

  “That’s if I pass all the tests.”

  A gust of wind kicked up a few dried leaves as Carter ran a hand through his thick, grey hair. “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re good at this detective work? Everyone needs to start somewhere. Give yourself a little credit, would ya? No more hand-holding, okay?”

  I blew out a breath and tried to smile. “Fine,” I said, looking toward the front door. “I guess we shouldn’t keep the client waiting.”

  We knocked. A few moments later, a young woman appeared behind the outer glass door. She looked about twenty-five, her brown hair swept up into a ponytail. A pink apron was tied around her thin waist. “Yes? May I help you?” she asked.

  “I’m Sarah Woods. This is Carter. We’re h
ere to see Alice Rossini. She’s expecting us.”

  “Yes. Please come in.” I noticed a hint of a southern accent in the young woman’s voice. “Mrs. Rossini is waiting for you in the parlor.”

  She gestured to the right and we entered the arched opening that led to a high ceilinged room with a massive stone fireplace as the focal point. I admired the craftsmanship of the stonework before my attention was drawn elsewhere. Several bizarre statues dominated most of the room: a hairy ape type of creature, a mannequin that looked like a zombie, and several other smaller figures that looked like aliens with bulbous green heads. Was Alice a connoisseur of Avante-guard sculpture?

  Alice occupied a plush couch upholstered with floral designs. Her long white hair looked like strands of silk tied up into a loose bun. A few ringlets fell down around her face—the face of a woman at least eighty-five or ninety years old. She didn’t stand up when we entered the room, but her smile, friendly eyes, and warm demeanor greeted us.

  “Please come in,” she said, her voice shaky yet robust. “So nice to meet you. Please, make yourselves comfortable. Can I have Lucy bring you some coffee or tea?”

  We kindly declined, but I noticed the young woman, Lucy, standing just outside the arched doorway. Perhaps she wanted to stay within earshot in case Alice needed her.

  Carter and I sat on one of the couches. “What a beautiful house you have,” I said. “It’s so well preserved.”

  “Don’t be fooled,” she said, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “The place is crumbling around me, but don’t tell anyone. If the historical society ever knew, they’d come to hound me.”

  “I won’t tell a soul. But, I have to ask; what’s with all the unusual life-sized artifacts?”

  “Oh dear, I hope you’re not offended.”

  “Not at all, just curious.”

  Alice smiled. “My husband Henry used to be a horror film producer. That’s how we met back in the fifties. I was a costume designer. He hired me to work on one of his first productions. These peculiar figures were movie props. After Henry died, I couldn’t bare to sell them off. They’re scattered about the entire house.”