Domestic Affairs (Tiara Investigations Mystery) by Lane Stone Read Free Book Online

pointed out my friend.   My husband, on the other hand, got a look from me that said, See, it didn’t break my jaw to be nice. He’ll never change. Ms. Marshall and Tara exchanged smiles. Then she walked away––leaving me wondering why she was looking for Tara in the first place.  
      “Was your stepfather with DEA or the FBI?” Jack asked Paul.  
    “No. He was a college professor. He taught at Georgia Tech.”   My father had taught at Tech.  
    Jack hesitated a moment. “Did he ever work in Mexico?”  
    “No.   Why?”
    “Because that’s wetware.” All the eyes that had been on Jack, now looked at me. “American Narco-terrorism agents working in Mexico have these inserted in their bodies in case they’re kidnapped.”
      No one knew what else to say about it. Or whether it meant anything to us or not.
    Detective Kent turned the plastic bag from one side to the other, examining the piece. “You cleaned this up real good, didn’t you?” This was asked of no one in particular.
    My husband reached for me, tracing the inside of my arm and interlacing his fingers with mine. Then he squeezed. Hard. Shit. Then he leaned over me. “Read it and eat it.” He released the pressure and looked in my eyes to see if I understood. I had. He has one of these tracking devices implanted in his body, but that bit of info was not for public consumption.  
    Tara put her arm around Paul’s waist under his suit jacket.   She was giving him a squeeze, but she looked at me. She probably lies to him daily because we handle a lot of cases and that means a lot of getting-out-of-the-house ploys. While they do not cohabitate, strictly speaking, he rarely spends the night at the house he pays the mortgage on. Obviously, she didn’t feel comfortable fibbing just then. We were pretending, in front of God and everybody, that this was the first time we’d laid eyes on Thomas Chestnut. There’s something about lying to someone you love in a funeral home that’s just not the done thing.
    On cue, I asked, “Did he have any other children?”
    Paul stared at his shoes. “I don’t consider myself his son.”   
    I wanted to encourage him to say more, but back on the ranch, Beatrice was waiting on the other side of the room for us. Victoria read my mind and excused herself. Then Detective Kent peeled off. I guess to go eavesdrop on all the talking going on in this extremely congested space. I saw him stop by Thomas Chestnut’s daughter, the young woman who’d entered with Bea.    There were so many people around that all of a sudden I felt like my clothes were too tight. I would have given anything to go outside but there was no way I could leave. I went for the next best option and moved up right next to my husband, which is what I do when I feel uncomfortable in my surroundings and he’s around.   He’s home from the Gulf every couple of months and I fall right back into this every time. That’s a little odd, if you think about it. At the time I left him, he seemed to suck the oxygen out of any room he was in and I couldn’t breathe. He looked down at me and then scanned around us. Sure enough, the lobby was jam packed with people. No one was in with the guest of honor, Him.
    “Can we go back in there to talk?” My husband was already moving in the direction of the Room of Repose, an arm around my shoulders.  
    Jack and I went in and stopped. Tara and Paul went in and stopped.   Ditto Shorty.   No one was reposing.
    “I’ll go ask the funeral director where he moved the casket.”  
    “And why? For heaven’s sake,” Tara called out to Paul’s back.
    My husband walked out with him, passing Beatrice, Victoria and Detective Kent on their way in. Beatrice leaned back and her eyes closed in slow motion. I was over there in a flash and caught her before she hit the floor. Kent’s double take told me he was impressed that I could hold this grown woman so easily. Victoria and Tara saw it differently and nudged