Sweet Secrets
Some places seem too magical to be touched by death. Candy Manor, nestled in the Ozark Mountains, is that kind of place, with whimsical statuary dotting the woods around it and lush, colorful furnishings inside. But during a corporate retreat for the executives of Keene Beans, a powerful storm rolls in, cutting the group off from the outside world. In the looming darkness, Charli Bronson, the newest member of the staff, stumbles upon a body. The group reels with shock and fear, then gathers to share theories and hurl accusations. The powerful spring storm rages around them and a killer lurks among them. As an outsider, Charli is the only one who can see the tangled web of secrets trapping the guests. Can Charli shine a light on the secret someone is willing to kill to keep before anyone else winds up dead? Get a free ebook - Falling into Murder!
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Sweet Secrets
Excerpt
Frank Bowman rapped his knuckles on the cheap wooden door as he opened it. “You. Grab a legal pad and pen. You’re coming with me.”
Charli jumped, startled at the sharp sound. Quickly, she recovered and pushed to her feet, snagging a legal pad from her desk and sliding it into her tote. “Where are we going?”
Her boss was already striding down the carpeted hall. “To the corporate retreat at the CEO’s house. She decided at the last minute that it’d be a good idea to have legal there.” He glowered at her over his shoulder. “Speed it up.”
Dang it. The one day she wore heels. At least they were fairly sensible. “I’m coming.” Her mind raced. Why was she going to a corporate event? These things were usually for execs, not peons like her. She’d only been on the job a hair over six months. “A retreat?”
He hit the back door of the office building with an open palm and barreled through it. She followed, catching the door with her elbow before it slammed shut in her face. He slid into his old truck and she clambered in. Sweat trickled down her back after the sudden exertion. If it was this warm already, she dreaded summer. She’d been warned about summers in Missouri. Heat and humidity. And she’d thought Chicago was miserable. The Ford took off like a shot when he stomped on the gas. Charli buckled her seat belt over her ample belly and noted that he did not.
She shifted on the seat, sliding her hand under her thigh to smooth the torn vinyl down so it wouldn’t poke her leg. In spite of making good money, the man was frugal to a fault. This old truck sputtered and struggled, but he wouldn’t replace it until it left him stranded on the side of the road somewhere.
Hopefully that wouldn’t be today.
As they drove through town, rolling through stop signs and dodging traffic, Frank dictated instructions. “When we get there, I want you to note who is there and who isn’t. Pay attention to who says what. What they don’t say is just as important as what they do. Your job is to watch body language. Look at their expressions.” He glanced at her, his ruddy face hard. “Letting you come along is a big deal. I’m trusting you.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” The sun was bright overhead. She reached up and flipped the visor down to get some relief. She wished she had grabbed her sunglasses off her desk. “I hope you’re happy with my work so far. If there’s ever anything I can—“
“No thank you necessary.” He cut her off. “I needed a paralegal. You needed a job. In spite of the circumstances, I decided to give you a chance, based on Bart Mason’s recommendation.”
The stop n’ go light turned yellow and Frank stomped on the accelerator, barreling through the intersection as the light turned red, and eliciting an angry honk from a Honda. Charli grabbed the oh shit handle and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment.
She opened her eyes. Her boss was completely unflappable. “Bart is a good man.” Charli’s old boss was the only one who had believed her. As soon as the news hit, friends and family turned their back on her. But Bart had stood beside her, literally and figuratively. Without his efforts, she’d be sitting in prison. She’d never be able to repay him.
“You do a good job, we’re solid.” They hit the city limits and sped south, leaving the small town of Harmony in the rear-view mirror. “When we get there, you keep your mouth shut and take notes. Your job is to make sure I don’t miss anything. Write down everything.”
“Yes, sir.” Charli gripped the door handle as her boss careened around a corner, then slammed on the brakes for a hulking green cultivator rumbling down the narrow road. This back country blacktop was a far cry from the crowded streets and tall buildings of the Windy City, but she was determined to make the best of it. Starting over here was the best thing for her, where no one knew her and no one recognized her.
As soon as they hit a straightaway, Frank eased out to check for traffic, then roared past the massive machine. Charli sucked in a sharp breath when his wheels dropped off the pavement. One quick jerk and they were back on the blacktop, leaving the big machine behind. “I don’t even want to know you’re there. I don’t want anyone to know you’re there. You’re nothing more than a piece of furniture. A tool.”
His words didn’t surprise her. He was gruff and sometimes mean, but had given her a chance when no one else would hire her. Besides, the corporate world was a sweeter gig than private practice had been. Leaving the office at five every afternoon had been a pleasant surprise. With Bart, she usually worked until at least six every night, sometimes later if they were preparing for trial.
An older silver sedan in front of them stuck to the speed limit. Frank rode the guy’s bumper. Definitely less than a car’s length. Charli swallowed hard, trying to concentrate on his words. She needed this job. She’d do whatever he needed her to do.
To quell the rolling of her stomach, she tried to focus on preparing for this meeting. “You said the big boss?” Freshly cultivated fields lined the road on both sides. The scent of freshly turned earth and acrid fertilizer filled the air, stinging her nose. “You mean Mrs. Bettencourt?”
“Yeah. The CEO of Keene Beans herself. She calls, we come. That’s the way it works.” The next straightaway gave him the break he’d been waiting for. He pressed the accelerator and shot around the sedan.
“Do you often visit the CEO at her house instead of the office?”
He gave her a sharp look. “Amelia Keene Bettencourt is the big dog. Her granddaddy started the company. She doesn’t come to the office much anymore, but she still runs the business. If she wants us at her house, we go to her house.”
Lori L. Robinett
Lori L. Robinett is a paralegal by day, writer by night. She is the author of the popular Widow's Web series, featuring women who find their strength when they are at their lowest. When not reading or writing, she enjoys spending time with her husband of nearly 30 years and playing with their Beagle and Snorkie. Her favorite authors are Tierney James, Diane Kelly, Molly Macrae, Rebecca Forster, and Mollie Cox Bryan.
