An Act of Deceit: Book 2 of the Sarah Woods Mysteries by Jennifer L. Jennings Read Free Book Online Page B

from my house; I had an hour.
         The office of Jason Wells, Attorney At Law, was located next to a holistic health center on the end of a strip mall.
         “Can I help you?” asked a woman with frizzy, shoulder-length blonde hair as I walked in. She neglected to look up from the magazine she was reading, her jaw chomping feverishly on a wad of gum as if she were in some sort of contest.
         “Hi. I’m Sarah Woods. I have an eight fifteen appointment with Mr. Wells.”
         The blond glanced down at her laptop, tapped a few keys, and nodded. “He’s expecting you. Go ahead in.” She motioned toward a closed door with an engraved gold placard.
         I entered and nearly walked directly into a massive glass desk, far too large for the space. Wells stood up. “Have a seat.”
         “Thanks for meeting with me,” I said, settling into a rolling, faux-leather chair.
         Before me was the strong, angular, pockmarked face of a man who appeared to be about Marty’s age. His eyebrows furrowed when he spoke. “I’m not really sure how I can help. What do you need to know about Marty?”
         I crossed my hands in my lap and tried to act as if I’d been interviewing people my entire life. “When did you hear about the accident?” I asked.
         “I read about it online a few days ago. I’m still in shock.”
         “How long had you known Marty?” I asked, crossing my legs and shifting in my seat.
         “Marty and I were college roommates. After graduation, we went our separate ways. I went to law school; he got into the restaurant business.”
         “But you remained friends after all those years?”
         “Sure, we kept in touch. Played golf together once every couple years, and had lunch at the country club once in a while. Marty’s other hobbies kept him pretty busy.” He smiled and looked down.
         “Are you referring to Marty’s female friends?”
         Wells paused then said “I guess it’s no big secret, is it? Do you plan to mention that in this article?”
         “I’m just trying to get a well-rounded snapshot of who Marty really was.”
         “Marty was a brilliant business man. Very detail oriented … smart as hell … knew all the right people.”
         “Did he have any enemies you were aware of? People sometimes become successful by stepping on other’s toes, right?”
         Wells laughed. “That’s true. But that was part and parcel of Marty’s genius. He didn’t piss people off. And if he did, he’d just buy them a cocktail. By the end of the first round, they’d be best friends.”
         I doodled on my notepad, pretending to write down his every word. “Does the name Lance Harding mean anything to you? Did Marty ever mention his name?”
         Wells looked up toward the ceiling. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “That name doesn’t sound familiar. Who is he?”
         I produced the photo and slid it across the desk. “An acquaintance of Marty’s. I’m trying to track him down for an interview.”
         He looked at it quickly, then slid it back to me. “No, I don’t recognize him.”
         Harding, it seemed, was not a popular guy. I was beginning to feel discouraged. “Look,” I said, leaning across the desk, “could you help me out with something, strictly off the record?”
         Wells smiled. “Off the record, huh? In my experience, that means beware, I’m digging for darker secrets.”
         I cleared my throat and looked directly into his eyes. “To tell you the truth, Marty’s life seems to have been a bit of a cliché. Nobody has had anything very interesting to say about the guy. So what if he had a successful restaurant? All I really care about is getting a compelling article written.” I pushed the chair away from the desk, my exasperation partially genuine. I reached for my purse.
         “Whoa, hold on,” Wells said.