Dirty Little Secrets (Romantic Mystery) Book 1 in the J.J. Graves Series (11 page)

“And I didn’t particularly care for the way the French pastry looked at you either, but we’re both grown ups, and even though we spend most of our time together we have lives apart.”

“I know it, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. Just promise me you’ll be careful with this guy.”

“I promise.” I felt pretty secure in my oath. We were only going to dinner after all. I wasn’t exactly a believer in love at first sight. I’d seen too many fairytales destroyed to go for that nonsense. My parents for one. Fiona Murphy for another.

“What do you think about what she said about Fiona?” I asked Jack as he drove out of Nottingham towards King George Proper to Janette Taylor’s home.

“I think Fiona had secrets. And maybe there’s more going on here than meets the eye,” he said.

That was pretty much my feeling as well, so I just grunted in assent and looked at the neat rows of houses with identical dormers and box windows lining the street. Every one had box hedges and brick mailboxes.

“God, how do people live in places like this? There’s no character,” I said.

“People often find the urbane and consistent a comfort.”

“Not us,” I said, thinking of our jobs and the houses we both found solitude in.

“No, not us,” he said.

Janette’s sporty little Honda Coupe sat in the driveway under a mountain of snow.
“I guess she’s home,” I said with a sigh. I was a little tired of getting in and out of the cold. Plus, I wanted to get home and primp for the evening. My fingernails were a mess, and I hadn’t exfoliated in over a week.

“Hang in there, tough guy,” Jack said, punching me on the arm. “Your date will come soon enough.”

Janette Taylor answered the door in baggy grey sweats, a bright pink terry-cloth robe, and she sported a swollen, red nose. She had Kleenex hanging out of both pockets and one held tightly in her fist. I could hear the T.V. blaring in the background and smell the overwhelming aroma of Vicks Mentholatum. Looking at Janette did wonders for my self esteem after our short visit with Marie Petit.

“What do you want?” she asked, hiding her face in a tissue and sneezing. “I’m not buying anything. It’s too fricking cold.” She started to shut the door when Jack flashed his badge.

“Are you Janette Taylor?” he asked.

I got the impression Jack was expecting someone a little more refined to come to the door. I couldn’t see Janette Taylor and Dr. Hides meshing on a daily basis.

“Yeah, I’m Janette. Listen, if this is about Robby I want nothing to do with it. We broke up over a month ago, and I’m not bailing him out again.”

“Good for you,” Jack said. “This is about one of Dr. Hides’ patients. Can we come in for a few minutes? Like you said, it’s fricking cold out here.”

“Yeah, sure, I guess. Sorry about the mess. I haven’t exactly felt like cleaning up.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said as I found my way through the maze of cat toys and empty Kleenex boxes to the sofa. I was going to have to boil my body in rubbing alcohol to get rid of all the germs. “How long have you worked for Dr. Hides?”

“A little more than two years. I was sent over from a temp agency when his old secretary left on maternity. She decided not to come back, so I got the job. It pays okay, and I never have to work weekends. What’s all this about? Is Dr. Hides in trouble?”

“Can you tell us about Fiona Murphy? Describe her to us. Give us your impressions.” Jack said.

“Sure I can. Bitch from hell,” she said. “She was so hoity-toity I figured she was giving the Doc lessons. He has that same blue blood attitude that she does.”

I don’t think I concealed the surprise on my face fast enough. Fiona sure did wear a lot of hats.

“Are you sure?” Jack asked. “Fiona was a small woman, slender, with shoulder-length blonde hair and blue eyes. About thirty years old?”

“Yeah, that’s her. Dressed real fancy, and never bothered to say two words to me, other than to ask for hot tea with lemon and one lump of sugar like I was the damned maid. I wasn’t the one who had need of a therapist, now, was I?”

“Did you ever notice any bruises on Mrs. Murphy?” I asked.
Janette didn’t answer right away, but her eyes got big and she kept licking her lips. “No, I never saw any,” she finally stammered out. “Are you going to tell me what this is about?”

“Mrs. Murphy was murdered sometime Thursday evening,” Jack said. “You say you didn’t see the bruises, Janette, but you knew about them didn’t you?”

She averted her eyes and didn’t keep eye contact. “I could lose my job if he found out,” she whispered.

“We’ll keep it to ourselves for right now,” he said. “Did you look at Fiona’s case files?”

“It’s like I couldn’t help it,” she said as she started to cry. “She was such a hateful woman. I wanted to know something about her just so I could feel like I had the upper hand, even when she was snubbing her nose at me.”

“Where’d she get the bruises, Janette?” I asked.

“I don’t know who, not exactly,” she said. “I only was able to read one of the yearly summary pages the doctor keeps at the front of the file. I didn’t want to get caught. But he wrote in his notes that she had a sexual addiction. You know,” Janette pleaded with her eyes, hoping we could read her mind so she wouldn’t have to say the word out loud. “She was a sadist,” she whispered and then promptly turned bright red to match the color of her nose. “And I don’t think Dr. Hides really cared about curing her of the addiction if you know what I mean. Their sessions consistently ran over the hour mark, and I was given explicit instructions to never interrupt, even if there was another patient waiting. Sometimes she’d even pick him up for lunch after his eleven o’clock appointment was finished.”

“What kind of car was she driving?” I asked.

“A white Lexus. It looked brand new.” Just one more inconsistency to file away.
I felt a little sorry for Janette Taylor. Nothing could make your working relationship more awkward than knowing your boss was having sex less than twenty feet away from your desk with his patients.
Gross
.

Chapter Ten

Jack slammed his fist against the dashboard, shoved his cell phone back in his shirt pocket and muttered out a curse. “I can’t find anyone at the District Attorney’s office or at the courthouse to get me a damned warrant.”

I didn’t bother to remind Jack that it was Saturday and people did actually take the weekend off.

“I’ll have to call them at home,” he said. “I want to know what’s in those files. And I want to know today.”

“Me too,” I said. “And I bet a peach like Janette Taylor reads all the files, not just the ones of the people she dislikes. It would be tempting to know people’s darkest secrets.” I knew I would be tempted. I had a few secrets of my own I wouldn’t even share with Jack, much less a therapist.

Jack sped through the snow-plowed streets toward Augusta General to see George Murphy. I hadn’t set foot inside the hospital since I’d turned in my resignation. I wasn’t looking forward to the visit.

“Damn,” Jack said, looking at his watch. “I forgot all about the safe-deposit box. The bank closed at noon. You think we could get Dickey to open it up for us?” he asked.

“Probably so.” Dickey was pretty laid back. He’d probably think it was cool to be needed during an investigation.

“Well, if he doesn’t I’ll make sure that his wife accidentally gets a key to his hotel room when he has his nooner with his secretary.”

Jack had a real vengeful streak. I’d always liked that about him.

“So we know that Dr. Hides knew about the bruises and lied to us,” I said. “And we know Marie Petit and Janette Taylor are painting a totally different picture of Fiona than the one we knew. I’m starting to believe maybe Dr. Hides might be the one responsible for the bruises after all. He was the one who knew her best. Her desires and needs.”

“Yeah, Dr. Hides is going to wish he’d never met me,” Jack said.

“If he was the one putting those bruises on Fiona, then he’s in a whole lot more trouble than anything you could do to him.”

“Don’t bet on it,” Jack said. “The funny thing is that I thought for sure all the stuff we found in the safe at the Murphy house had to have belonged to George. I’m starting to think it might have been hers all along.”

“Well, she’s obviously been playing a role. She had all of us fooled. The sinner and the saint, depending on who you talk to. And what’s up with the second car? Where’s she keeping it?”

“If she’s got a second life, then surely she has a second place to live. Hell, maybe she’s got multiple personalities. I can’t think of any other way to explain all this.”

Jack pulled into the emergency entrance of the hospital and put the
On Duty
sign he’d brought with us onto the dashboard. I felt like I was in a race, Jack was moving so quickly through the hospital corridors. He was a man on a mission and had obviously gotten his second wind after talking with Janette Taylor. I, however, was bushed. I wasn’t cut out for police work. It was mostly boring and definitely tedious. I needed variety to spice up my life, something along the lines of Ben and Jerry’s.

The guard who was stationed at George’s door snapped to attention when he saw Jack coming down the hallway.

“Any trouble, Walters?” Jack asked.

The poor guy was nervous as hell. He couldn’t have been much more than twenty. I guess I could see how Jack could be an intimidating force as an employer, but I was used to it. I probably would laugh in Jack’s face if he ever gave me one of those looks. But it was probably wise for the kid to be nervous. Laughing would only get him fired.

“Everything’s fine, sir. He hasn’t been given meds this morning per your orders, and there have been no visitors other than Dr. Givens and a nurse or two.”

“Good job, Walters. Take a break and go get a cup of coffee,” Jack said as he slapped the kid on the shoulder. Walters heaved a sigh of relief like he’d just obtained a pardon and took off down the hallway.

“You’re a good boss, Jack. You old softy. Under that gruff exterior lies a heart of gold.”

“Shut up, Jaye.”

“Shutting up, Sheriff, Sir,” I said, clicking my heels together and saluting.

I watched Dr. Givens make his way down the hallway with heavy heels and his military stride. He’d been the bane of my existence when I was doing my residency. He was a stickler for details and had a bedside manner like a troll. He was tall and imposing and reminded me a little of the crypt keeper with a bony face and dark soulless eyes. Or maybe that image was just me projecting, since I thought of death every time he was in my presence. If I was to be completely accurate, he looked more like Mike Wallace off of
Sixty Minutes
. He also believed in the school of thought that only men could be good doctors. Or should be doctors, for that matter. I’d been on a mission to prove him wrong when my parents died.

“Dr. Graves,” he said by way of greeting. “How’s the mortuary business?” He said it with a smug smile and a little chuckle. I wanted to ignore the hand Jack placed on my shoulder, but when he started squeezing not so subtly I realized I had my fists clenched and was ready to pop Dr. Givens a good one. He had it coming after all the years of torture he’d put me through, but it would probably make Jack feel bad to have to arrest me for assault, so I stood down.

“Business is great. Thanks for asking,” I said, sweet as sugar. I could have said something hateful like I was looking forward to him being one of my patients, but I refrained. I thought of something better instead.

“Make sure you say hi to your wife for me,” I said with guileless innocence. It was common knowledge that Dr. Givens’ wife had left him Wednesday night to run away with her plastic surgeon. She’d told him she was going to help with the raffle at the
Ladies of King George Lodge
. I think if I was Dr. Givens I’d take notice if someone I lived with for twenty-five years was walking out the door with a suitcase and her new breasts.

Jack’s grip on my shoulder went way past the point of pain, and I got a tiny bit of satisfaction at seeing Dr. Givens take a step forward like he was going to take a swing at me, but much to my disappointment he got control of himself and ignored me.

Dr. Givens had known how much I’d hated giving up my position at the hospital, and the last thing he’d told me was that it was a sign from God that I’d been called to do other work. Meaning that if God wanted women to be doctors he wouldn’t have killed my parents. I personally thought God had bigger things to worry about than me being hired on at Augusta General. Call me crazy.

“I’m sorry, Sheriff. I feel like I need to be present in the room while you question my patient,” Dr. Givens explained. “He is under great emotional distress and really shouldn’t go too long without being sedated.”

“Dr. Givens, George Murphy is the prime suspect in a homicide, and I don’t particularly care what your recommendations are. As soon as we’re done speaking with him, he’s going to leave this hospital in handcuffs and sit in a cell like all the other criminals instead of trying to win an Oscar.”

Jack left Dr. Givens in the hallway sputtering, and I followed him into George Murphy’s room. “That was great, Jack. That man doesn’t get put in his place nearly enough.”