Part 1 (1/2)
Kristin Ashe Mystery.
Disorderly Attachments.
Jennifer L. Jordan.
”I have thirty days to decide whether to have an affair .”
This line, uttered by Carolyn OKeefe, lures P.I. Kristin Ashe into following and investigating the woman Carolyn plans to pursue. From the start, Kris has misgivings about the work, but her unease turns to rage when Carolyn reveals the object of her interest. The more Kris learns about Carolyn OKeefe and her strange past, the more frightening the results.
At the same time, Roberta Franklin, a real-estate developer, has hired Kris and Fran Green, the feisty ex-nun, to determine whether the mansion she wants to convert into condos is haunted. The elderly owner says ”no,” her daughter disagrees, and her adolescent great-grandson, Flax, turns out to be a natural at ghost hunting. When Kris, Fran, Flax, and a paranormal investigator spend a night in the dilapidated structure, they discovered theres as much complicated drama in the real world as there is in the spirit world.
From the Publisher.
A Kristin Ashe Mystery.
Disorderly Attachments.
A Kristin Ashe Mystery.
Jennifer L. Jordan.
Prologue.
Some people, it takes time to despise.
Not Carolyn O'Keefe.
She made me wary the minute she walked into my office twenty-nine days ago. Something in her mannerisms gave me pause-her smug arrogance, her detachment, her false relaxation. While I couldn't define my fears, I nonetheless decided to turn her away.
Yet before the end of our first appointment, she had uttered two words that guaranteed I would do as she asked.
Words that could never be taken back or forgotten.
My temper started to crack the second I agreed to do her bidding, and the fissure widened over the days that followed. I suppose I could have accepted help or sought intervention, but I was on a path that could not be corrected.
Each decision I made from this boiler of anger has led me to where I am today.
I can see that now as I lie in wait for Carolyn O'Keefe, but I remain certain in my convictions.
Especially one.
When she comes into sight, I will kill her.
Chapter 1.
”I have thirty days to decide whether to have an affair.”
Those were the exact words Carolyn O'Keefe used, over the phone, to secure an appointment on a Tuesday morning in late July. She would identify herself only as Lynn, but she promised to stop by my office within the hour.
By the time she walked through the door four hours later, I was fuming, an emotion that disintegrated when she placed a rubber-banded bundle of cash on my desk.
”I a.s.sume you're Kristin Ashe,” she said in an authoritative voice.
I nodded.
”Thirty days, that's the deadline. I'll pay you ten thousand dollars to retrieve information to aid in my decision.”
I offered her a seat, but she declined.
This put me at a disadvantage when I lowered myself into the leather swivel chair behind my desk, but I had to bear it. I couldn't very well take notes standing up, and sitting put me closer to the cash.
Ten grand.
I smiled inside. That would pay a lot of overhead for a lot of months.
”Tell me more about the affair,” I said noncommittally.
”I'm in a long-term partners.h.i.+p, but recently, I've become uncontrollably attracted to someone else.”
”A woman?”
”Yes.” In her mid-fifties, my prospective client wore a designer tan pantsuit and heavy jewelry, large rings and bracelets with rainbow-colored stones. Reading gla.s.ses rested on top of tiger-colored hair that swooped up in a girlish, straight style, and thin eyebrows, plucked to perfection, set apart wide eyes and drew attention to a high forehead, which was now wrinkled.
”You're afraid this will threaten your relations.h.i.+p with your partner?”
”That's the least of my worries. We have an open agreement that's tolerated a number of trysts. My concern is that in becoming intimate with this much younger person, I might create a messy entanglement.”
”How did you meet, you and the younger woman?” I said as my gut tightened.
”I can't disclose the exact circ.u.mstances, but let's just say in a professional context,” she replied, her eyes never leaving mine.
Since she arrived, her stare hadn't wavered.
Nothing on my desk would have distracted her, because I kept it stark, no personal photos or mementos. Only a blank blotter, a digital clock, a laptop and two empty in/out baskets. But the items on my colleague's desk-the pinwheels and kaleidoscopes, gumball machine, tabletop Zen garden with pen-size rake and dozens of framed s...o...b..arding photos-something should have elicited a reaction.
Unable to tolerate her gaze, I pushed back from the desk, held a legal pad close to my chest, and concentrated on taking notes. ”What happens in thirty days?”
”I have the opportunity to go away for the weekend with her, without varying my routine or arousing suspicion.”
”This woman you have your eye on, does she share your feelings?”