Heartache, Hustle, & Homicide (A Ryli Sinclair Mystery Book 10) by Jenna St. James

Author:Jenna St. James [St. James, Jenna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-06-19T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

I hurried around the table and gently nudged her back down. “I’m sorry you had to hear it from us. I guess Charlene didn’t call and tell you?”

Barbara snorted. “Charlene wouldn’t tell me anything. It’s not like we run in the same circles, if you know what I mean?”

“Not close then?” Aunt Shirley asked.

Barbara snorted.

“And the police haven’t been by yet to speak to you or Doyle?” I asked.

“No.”

“Tell us about John,” Aunt Shirley said.

Barbara took a deep breath. “John has been trouble since the day I met him. Always dragging Doyle down.” She suddenly paled and her hands flew to her face. “If someone killed John, and Doyle didn’t come home last night, does that mean someone did something to Doyle, too?”

Or Doyle shot John and is on the run.

I locked eyes with Aunt Shirley. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she was thinking what I was. Not wanting to upset Barbara anymore, I shook my head at Aunt Shirley. I didn’t want her to press the woman and make her even more upset to where she’d shut down.

“Can you think of why someone would want to hurt both John or Doyle?” I asked gently.

“No! Not really.”

“What kind of work did your husband do?” Aunt Shirley asked.

Barbara’s look became instantly guarded. “What do you mean?”

I sat back down across the table from her. I didn’t want to let on we knew John and probably Doyle were running some kind of scam, we just weren’t sure what it was yet. Or that there might be more than one scam going on. “Well, we stopped by their place of employment yesterday and today, and it doesn’t look like anyone has been there in a while.”

Barbara rolled her eyes. “That store was all John’s idea.”

“What exactly do they do there?” I asked again.

Barbara shrugged. “I’m sure nothing. I’ve never really asked. I think they meet with people and help them invest their money or something.”

Aunt Shirley narrowed her gaze. “You’re telling me you have no idea what your husband does for a living?”

A pink flush spread across Barbara’s face. “It’s a different time now. But back when we first got married, women didn’t pry into what their husbands did. Our role has always been Doyle makes the money, and I keep the house.”

“And you haven’t driven by the office today to see if Doyle is there?” I asked.

“No. Doyle and I only have the one car, and he’s using it now.” She gasped. “I wonder if his car is still at that gawd-awful place? If it is, I bet that means something’s happened to Doyle!” Myriad emotions flooded Barbara’s face before she could mask them. “I should probably call the police now. Thank you for stopping by.”

Politely dismissed.

“Of course,” I said.

Aunt Shirley and I rose from the table, and I barely resisted the urge to grab another cookie off the plate.

“One more thing,” Aunt Shirley said. “Who’s the secretary for the office?”

Barbara’s lips flattened again. “My niece, Keri.”

“Do you know where we can find her?” I asked.

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