Dying in the Dark by Valerie Wilson Wesley Read Free Book Online

did anyway. Clayton and his wife weren't as blessed, and life goes on.” His shrug of indifference didn't match his words. He wasn't good at hiding things, and I wasn't sure yet if that was good or bad.
    “You have kids, then?” That was always a common point of entry to any conversation.
    His face softened the way mine does when I mention Jamal. ‘A daughter. Nia. Almost ready to go to college and leave her old man forever.” He chuckled self-consciously.
    ‘An empty nest can be a good thing for a couple. Helps them get back in touch with each other.” I'd heard that on some talk show and threw it out for lack of anything better to say.
    “My wife and I are divorced. Well, you want the car, Ms. Hayle, or not?” He'd changed the subject abruptly but there was no nastiness in his tone, just an eagerness to get the deal done. It told me that the breakup of his marriage had been recent enough for him not to want to talk about it, but far enough in the past for some perspective.
    We headed into his office to sign the papers, and I was able to purchase the car with a reasonable down payment and manageable monthly payments, thanks to his generosity.
    “Tamara, I'd like to see you again, maybe meet for dinner or adrink, something that has nothing to do with cars,” he said as we walked back to the lot.
    His request for a date caught me short. I was tempted, but it didn't feel right.
    “No, I don't think so,” I said after a moment or two. My answer surprised him, and I could see that he was hurt. He wasn't a man who was used to being turned down by women; he hadn't been in high school and he obviously wasn't now. ‘Actually I'm kind of involved with somebody,” I added to soften my rejection.
    That was a lie, of course. I haven't been “kind of involved with somebody” since I met a sexy “somebody” named Basil Dupre for a week of mayhem and lust in Atlantic City. I'm not sure when, if ever, that somebody will turn up in my life again. Our relationship has no rhyme or reason, and I've learned to accept it for what it is. There was nobody else except Jake, who shows up in my dreams, and I'm too much of a realist to live in my fantasies.
    Yet on a deeper level, I was involved with somebody, and that somebody was me. I swore off men after I left Atlantic City. It was time for me to rediscover myself, cherish my own company, stop depending on somebody else to give meaning to my life. I had only a few more years at home with my son before he went to college, and I needed to focus on him, not romance. Besides that, it's never wise to mix business and pleasure. I've learned that in spades.
    “He's a very lucky somebody.”
    “Thanks, Larry, for everything,” I said without acknowledging his compliment. I climbed into my new red car, turned the key in the ignition, and headed to Morgan's Funeral Home, my grin so wide it hurt.

CHAPTER FIVE
    D on't let me be here all night dealing with this shit, you hear me? Don't let me be here all night,” said the woman to Brent Liston, who stood next to her. There was no mistaking the voice; it was the one I'd heard on the phone yesterday morning. The speaker had a sweet-looking face marred by a mouth that looked like it never smiled. She held her small, wiry body in a fighter's stance, which didn't surprise me, considering who had his arm swung over her shoulder like he owned her. So Cecil Jones had given me his father's telephone number; they must have been closer than I thought.
    Once upon a time, Liston had been handsome in a brutal, machismo way. The twisted scar that ran down his left cheek and his squat, broken nose had changed all that, but he'd done enough time in prison gyms to still have the body of a contender. He was dressed all in black, save for a thick gold chain that crossed his tie. I noticed Cecil's diamond ring sparkling like a pimp's on his long, thick finger. Standing there together, he and his woman looked like they'd stepped out of somebody's