2 Multiple Exposures Read Online Free

for my private collection—with his permission—and his.
    How I loved my work, as I’m sure you can already tell. Anyway, I saw too little of my home gallery lately as Spencer and I spent more time at his place than mine.
    In the tiny kitchen, I set down my purse and the mail only to have my cell phone buzz. I tugged it out of my purse to see that think of the devil and there he appears.
    “What are you doing?” Spencer texted.
    “I’m working,” I lied without qualms.
    “My detective senses are telling me that’s not true.”
    “I thought you were a sheriff.”
    “Semantics.”
    My thumbs flew over the keys as I typed. Inna had told me once that I typed as fast as a teenager on their cell phone, which I took as a huge compliment. “Who ratted me out?”
    A smiley face appeared on my screen, and I laughed, but it was probably true. Nothing in Briney Creek remained a secret long, which made me think of Edna. What was her secret? Was it even a secret at all? She might just want it to sound intriguing to stand out in her small group. To me she was already special, but I didn’t mind indulging her one bit.
    While I waited for Spencer to get back to me, I opened mail. My focus divided between tearing envelopes and watching my phone screen. Only when I’d read and reread the same cryptic sentence in one letter, did the message start to break through the wall of my understanding.
    I looked fully at the letter and realized I had opened what I thought was chain mail. The single plain white sheet read, “Makayla, have you been to see Dr. Zachariah Bloomberg, town gynecologist?”
    I frowned. Someone, who would rather remain anonymous, wanted me to keep up with my health by getting a pap smear? Surely, doctor’s offices weren’t stooping to subterfuge to gain new patients. If so, I took issue with it. I for one hated going to the gynecologist. Being examined down there felt like a direct violation. I shivered just thinking about it and put it off as much as possible.
    Yes, I know before you judge me. That’s not the responsible route, and there may even be those who feel I am a role model for the impressionable. I might point out exhibit one—my past. Makayla Rose is no one’s example of living right.
    Examining the page, I read further in this unusual request to get my private bits checked and frowned at the words. “Be careful, and if you think he is guilty of something, convince the sheriff.”
    Guilty of what? I wondered. This person couldn’t be more specific or give a few more hints to what this was all about, and why ask me? Because I was seeing Spencer? Well, we were hardly more than lovers given Spencer had openly admitted to me at the start he wasn’t looking for a relationship and that he still in some respects loved his ex-wife.
    Let me pause here and assure you that Spencer was definitely divorced, or so he said, and the ex-wife was most certainly out of the picture. We had agreed that this was not a love match, and we were just satisfying mutual desires. Now, after you’re done questioning whether “the lady doth protest too much,” we can get back to the matter at hand—the mysterious letter.
    I was of a mind that this person was banking on my involvement with Spencer. They had a reason not to pursue the question of the doctor’s guilt themselves, and well, maybe they weren’t sure they were correct. What they might not know and that I unfortunately was aware of myself was that more than I hate being physically examined by strangers—male or female—I was outrageously nosy. I now had to know what this Dr. Bloomberg had been up to.
    When my phone dinged with Spencer’s latest text, I decided not to tell him about the letter. Maybe that wasn’t a good idea. I don’t know, but I comforted myself with the possibility that the letter writer could just be playing a joke on me, or had developed a marketing strategy in very poor taste. Either way, I needed to verify the facts.
    Although a print