The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) π
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My chest clenches, hearing her doubting everything about the man she was married to.
βMrs. Black, can I offer you a word of advice?β
Which sheβll probably ignore, but her glaring, grating pain makes me ask anyway.
She frowns at me, but she nods.
βFinding out a secret about a loved one can be painful,β I say. βAnd I can see finding out about your husbandβs alternative lifestyle has hurt you. But that doesnβt mean he was a different person from the man you knew. We all have secrets.β
βDo you . . . keep your kink or whatever a secret?β
She keeps throwing it back to me, invading my privacy, as a way of assuaging her grief. Iβve seen it before. I try not to take it personally.
βNo, not anymore. But I certainly never told my parents while they were alive.β
She sighs and curls in on herself, her shoulders sagging, and I have that overwhelming urge to hug her again. And to put her over my knee.
βI donβt understand why Bill thought he couldnβt tell me. Did he think I wouldnβt understand? That Iβd, what, reject him?β She loses the battle against the tears welling in her eyes and they streak down her cheeks for a second before she pulls out a tissue and blots them away. βGod, Iβm sorry. Thatβs not why youβre here. What can I tell you that will help you find out what happened to him?β
βWhat did he tell you about the business trip? Who was he going with? Where was he going? Who he was meeting?β
She shakes her head, but not in denial. I think sheβs trying to remember conversations that at the time probably seemed inconsequential.
βIt was a business trip like a hundred other business trips,β she says haltingly. βBill was in recruitment. He travelled frequently to meet new clients, or new candidates. This trip was longer than most, but he went on longer trips once or twice a year.β She steeples her hands and presses them to her lips but continues speaking around them. βThose longer trips, they probably werenβt business trips at all, were they?β
βThey could very well have been,β I say, trying to keep her on track. βWas he travelling with anyone?β
She nods. βHe had two assistants. Jay and Chrisjean. One or the other usually went with him.β
βDid either of them go on this trip with him?β
βBoth, actually. He was annoyed about it. Chris was supposed to be accompanying him because she had the contacts with the Mexican telecom companies, but she had some family thing come up, so she had to fly back early. Jay went out for the last few days of the trip. I know he was there because I spoke to Bill every day at noon. A βnooner,β he used to call it.β Her smile is so sad, the ache in my gut redoubles. βNo matter where he was in the world, heβd call me every day at noon. He put Jay on to say βhelloβ during the call from Puerto Vallarta.β
I make a note. βCould you give me Jayβs full name?β
She does and I write it out.
βAnd Chrisjean?β
She gives me that, too.
βCould you tell me about Jay and Chrisjean? What kind of relationships did they have with your husband?β
βSexual relationships, you mean?β she asks, arching that dark brow at me again.
I rub my fingertips against my palms to quell their twitching. A hard spanking would give her the emotional catharsis she needs, help her start processing her grief so sheβs not striking out at strangers every five minutes. And Iβd feel so much better after delivering a spanking. Her painβs twisting me in fucking knots.
βNo, I donβt mean sexual relationships, unless you knew your husband was having sexual relations with his assistants,β I say evenly, although itβs an effort.
She has the grace to blush. βNo, he didnβt. Or I donβt think he did. I donβt know anymore. He had a previous assistant, Rosario. He was involved with her before we were married. But he let her go and hired Jay when our relationship got serious. Jay was his protΓ©gΓ©. They were very close. Bill was grooming Jay to take over. He used to say, βfive more years and Iβm out; Jay will be ready.β Of course, heβs been saying that for seven years, but thatβs Bill. He never could let go of his work. Chrisjeanβs a recent hire. Maybe a year, eighteen months, something like that. Bill wasnβt sure whether she was going to work out. He said she was unreliable. He was angry about it, actually, during the trip. He mentioned it several times during our nooners and again when he got back.β
βDid he mention what the family problem was that made her leave the trip early?β I ask, bending over my notepad and scribbling.
βNo. Bill was good like that. He understood that people had lives outside of work. He didnβt pry into other peopleβs problems.β
βMm-hmm.β Or he valued his privacy, given what he was doing with it, and didnβt want to give anyone an excuse to pry. I ask her a few more questions designed to relax her. Details of her husbandβs company, his working hours, their trips together. Then I get to the questions I know will upset her most. βDid your husband ever take drugs?β
βWhat do you mean?β
βRecreationally.β
She shrugs. βDoesnβt everyone?β
I donβt. I donβt tolerate it in my bottoms, either, and have broken it off with two of them because they wanted to continue stuffing junk up their noses. I should be all the high my bottoms need. βWhat did he take?β
βEcstasy at
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