Dirty Little Secrets (Romantic Mystery) Book 1 in the J.J. Graves Series (18 page)

“You don’t think Dickey could be Amanda Wallace’s lover, do you?”

I started to say no automatically, just because it was Dickey. My friend Dickey. But then I stopped to think about the things he’d said to us at the bank. About him being tired of Candy and the baby pressures from Vanessa. And then I thought about what he said he’d like to do to his wife. Not good timing.

“I don’t know, but maybe we’d better ask him,” I said.

“Yeah, let’s swing by the bank. This is sure to be pleasant.” Jack started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

“You don’t really think Dickey could have anything to do with these murders?” I asked.

“No, I don’t, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t make sure. After all, I’ve been known to make mistakes on the job before.”

“What happened in D.C. wasn’t your fault,” I said. “You were following orders. Maybe you should make an appointment with Dr. Hides to resolve this guilt you seem to be carrying around.”

“Shut up,” he snarled. “I’m not carrying around guilt.”

“Whatever you say Mr. Denial. But I’m here to listen if you ever need a sounding board.”

“More like a concrete wall,” he muttered, whipping the car into a parking space in front of the bank. I slammed against the seatbelt and muttered a curse as one of my onion rings fell to the floorboard.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” I asked.

“Nothing. Let’s just get this done so we can get to Dr. Hides’ place before something else happens.”

“Hey, when it rains it pours, my friend. Take it from me. This is my life.”

It felt good to step into the heated lobby of the bank. It looked much different than it had the day before. Every desk was occupied and the teller lines each ran three people deep. The smell of coffee was strong and fragrant, and I realized it had been a while since my last hit of caffeine. I’d had too little sleep and way too much stimulation to go for too much longer without falling over from exhaustion.

“Get it on the way out,” Jack said. He always had the uncanny knack of knowing just what I was thinking. He took hold of my elbow in case I made any detours and headed towards Dickey’s office.

Vanessa Hart sat in the cherry wood desk and guarded the gate to the inner sanctum like nobody’s business. And she was not a happy woman. Her mink colored hair practically sizzled with electricity, and she was filing the hell out of her nails. Red slashes of color tinged her cheeks and her normally friendly blue eyes shot sparks.

“We’re here to see Dickey,” Jack said cautiously.

She continued to file her nails and swing her crossed leg until I thought her shoe would fly off and hit some poor unsuspecting shmoe trying to withdraw from his checking account.

“I’m supposed to tell anyone who asks that Dickey is not available right now. He’s engaged in extremely important banking business. I should also let you know that I’m only a secretary. Nobody important,” Vanessa said with a choked sob.

We’d obviously come at a bad time. It was no doubt Dickey’s fault. It’s what he deserved for bringing his relationship into the workplace. Not to mention into his marriage.
“But you know what?” she asked, though I didn’t think she really wanted an answer.

“I’m through.” She stood and grabbed her purse out of the bottom drawer of her desk. “I’m through with wasting my life on a man who doesn’t care about anyone but himself. I’m through with this job and making this bank a well-oiled machine. I’m tired of standing in the shadows. I want things to go my way for once. I want someone who loves me, and I want children goddamn it,” she yelled at Dickey’s closed door. “I’m thirty years old, and I can feel my inside parts starting to shrivel up and die.”

I knew where she was coming from. I’d started having crazy thoughts about marriage and children when I’d turned thirty, too. I wasn’t so sure about the insides drying up part though. That seemed a little irrational, and I wasn’t quite on the ledge looking down yet.

“You can go in if you want to,” Vanessa said, smoothing her expression back to not so crazy. “He can find someone else to do his dirty work from now on. I quit.” She stormed off with the rapid click of her heels beating steady against the marble floor and her coat slung over her shoulder. I was pretty sure her temper was hot enough that she wouldn’t be needing the jacket for a while.

I looked at Jack and gave a little shrug. “You go in first,” I said. “Just in case.”

Jack rolled his eyes and knocked once before opening Dickey’s office door. Dickey was chugging Pepto-Bismol straight out of the bottle. His tie was loose and twisted over his shoulder, his hair stuck up in spikes and his eyes had bags underneath big enough to house orphans.

“What?” Dickey snarled. “Can’t you see I’m having a crisis here?” He went back to chugging the Pepto, and I pushed Jack forward slightly. I was pretty sure neither one of us had seen Dickey less than perfectly presentable. He was one of those people who could run five miles in the desert and go ten rounds with the champ and still have every hair in place.

“Well, I think things just got worse,” Jack said, for some reason looking more cheerful than I’d seen him in days. He was enjoying Dickey’s dilemmas. It was like watching a soap opera come to life. “Your secretary just quit.”

“Perfect,” Dickey said. “That’s just perfect. Christ, what else could go wrong?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I were you,” I said. “It might speed up the process.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do? Didn’t I tell Candy that I wanted a divorce?” He was sweating and turning an unhealthy shade of red.

I was surprised by this bit of news but worried about Dickey. “Calm down and take a few deep breaths, Dickey. You don’t look so good. I only have a limited amount of space in my freezer, and I’d prefer to keep you from taking up residence there.”

“Believe me, death would be a welcome relief,” he said.

“What did Candy say when you asked for a divorce?” Jack asked. I winced because Dickey’s color was starting to look normal again.

“She laughed at me,” he said, getting worked up again. “Can you believe she actually laughed? She said it would be a cold day in hell before I left her for another woman, and she’d make sure I’d end up a pauper. She threatened to take the bank in the divorce. I don’t even know if she can do something like that.”

“If you asked for a divorce then why did Vanessa just quit?” I asked. It was my turn to be nosy.

“Because when I came in this morning I had to tell her it wasn’t possible for me to leave Candy right now. I don’t want to be a pauper,” he said, perilously close to a whine. “I’ve never been one before, but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t like it.”

I had to agree. Being poor sucked.

“But Candy has turned into one crazy bitch. There’s no way I’m going home tonight. I’d love to marry Vanessa and give her all the kids she wants, but I just don’t see how I can.”

“Maybe you should talk to an attorney,” Jack suggested. “I’m sure there’s a way to keep the bank in your possession. It’s been in your family for generations.”

“You think so?” Dickey asked, but he didn’t look too sure.

“Or maybe you can find some dirt on Candy to help her loosen the reins a little bit.” Dickey seemed to perk up at this idea. Nothing like a little blackmail to get the bloodstream moving.

“Okay, I’ll do it.” He looked so relieved that I didn’t bother to remind him that he had a long uphill battle ahead with not one, but two women.

“Dickey, I hate to do this, but we didn’t come here to solve your problems. I need to ask you a few questions. In an official capacity,” Jack said.

“Why, what’s happened?” he asked, nervous all of a sudden.

“Can you tell me your whereabouts Saturday night, from about eight o’clock on?” Jack asked.

Dickey licked his lips and leaned back in his chair. “Geez, Jack, do I need to call my attorney? What the hell’s going on?”

“Just answer the question,” Jack said, impatience flashing in his eyes. I could tell Dickey was working up a pretty serious mad, either because of the implication or because it was a good way to forget his own problems.

“I was at the River House,” he said.

The River House was one of Dickey’s vacation homes on the far side of King George and it overlooked the Potomac River. It was only one of the assets he was likely to lose in a divorce with Candy.

“Were you alone?” Jack pressed.

“No, I had a bottle of Jack Daniels for company. Vanessa wasn’t speaking to me, and I didn’t feel like going home to my wife, so I went to the River House. Alone.”

“What about Sunday morning?” Jack asked. “Between seven and noon.”

“I left to come back for Fiona’s funeral around ten o’clock. I stopped by the house to change clothes. Candy wasn’t home. She has tennis lessons on Sunday mornings and then brunch with her mother. I saw you at the funeral just like everyone else. Now will you please tell me what’s going on?”

“In a minute,” Jack answered. “What you said to us Sunday, about finding another woman? Did you succeed?”

“What?” Dickey asked.

“Yesterday you said you were tired of the whole thing. With your wife and with Vanessa. You said you were thinking about finding another woman. Did you have another woman?” Jack repeated.

“Are you kidding me? Isn’t two enough? I’ve got enough problems without adding any more into the mix. So to answer your question, no, I don’t have another woman.”

“Dickey,” I said, trying to get him to divert his attention to me and lay off Jack a little. He was just doing his job. “Haven’t you heard any news this morning? About what happened over at the hotel?”

He looked confused. “J.J., I walked in the bank at eight o’clock this morning and promptly had a huge blowout with the woman I love. In front of witnesses I might add. I haven’t stepped foot out of this office for so much as a cup of coffee. Why? What happened?”

“Amanda Wallace was murdered in a room at the hotel last night,” Jack answered. “It was similar to Fiona’s death.” I could see Dickey was about to ask what that had to do with him when the light bulb went on.

“You think I killed her,” Dickey said, pushing his chair back so it hit the wall when he stood. “You think I could do that to a woman? Any woman?”

“Calm down, Dickey,” Jack said. “The circumstances were questionable. I had to ask you about them.”

“You mean Amanda Wallace was having an affair at the Hanover Hotel, and the only person you could think of who’d do something like that was me. Gee, thanks a lot. And then, not only would I sleep with her but then kill her when I was finished?”

I thought now would probably be a good time for us to go. Dickey had enough things on his plate at the moment. “Dickey, we never thought it was you, but Jack wouldn’t be doing his job if he didn’t explore every possibility.”

“Yeah, right,” he said bitterly. “Sorry I had to disappoint you. If you guys don’t mind, I think I’m going to head out of here. I’ve had enough bad news for one day.”

Dickey walked out without his coat, his appearance still disheveled and his office door wide open. “Shit,” Jack said, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Sometimes I hate my job.”

“Yeah, but the way I see it I’m not sure the day could get much worse. We already have a dead body and a pissed off best friend. What else could there be?”

“Don’t say that,” Jack said. “Things can
always
get worse.”

“Hey, I have an idea. If this thing with Brody doesn’t work out, and since you don’t want to get married for real, I was thinking the two of us could have a marriage of convenience. That way I wouldn’t end up a spinster, and I would have access to your bank account.”

“So what you mean is that it’d be convenient for you,” Jack said with a smile. I realized it had been awhile since I’d seen a genuine grin on his face. He slung his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close.

“Well, yeah,” I said. “That’s how I prefer things.”

“And what do I get out of it?” he asked, rubbing the tip of his finger down the side of my neck and sending tingles places that had no business getting tingles where Jack was concerned.

“W…well, come to think of it, I don’t really have a lot of housewifely talents. I don’t cook and I hate to do laundry and…”

“Honey,” Jack interrupted. “You have the only talent I’d need if I was ever going to get married. You’re female.”

“Yeesh. Nevermind,” I said and pulled out of his grasp. My face heated and my skin turned clammy. Maybe Jack wasn’t such a safe bet after all. Come to think of it, I probably wasn’t such a good catch. I’d need a lot more practice in the sexual arts before I could satisfy a man like Jack.

Ohmigod. Why was I even thinking about having sex with Jack?

“Get out, get out, get out,” I said aloud, knocking my fist against my temple and squenching my eyes closed. When I opened them Jack was looking at me with a cocky grin and a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jack,” I said, full of forced bravado. “I look okay now, but in fifty years I’m probably going to look just like my great-granny Ruth.”

Jack’s smile faded and he looked at me with closer scrutiny. “You know, I think you’re right,” he said. “If I look real close I can see a few chin whiskers starting to sprout. Your granny had a full beard by the time she hit ninety. Facial hair on a woman is enough to keep any man from getting a hard-on.”