Current Affairs (Tiara Investigations Mysteries) Read Online Free Page A

clients’ offices are. This one is the only one I’ve heard him talk about.”
    Good , I thought. We try to throw in one easy out in the first meeting. It’s a convenient way for clients to go into, or back into, denial. Kelly could have said or thought, ‘Oh, yeah, clients on the west coast. That’s probably it.’   She didn’t, meaning she was ready to hear whatever we would be telling her. I take that back, no wife or husband is ever ready to hear it. Kelly would be able to hear it.
    Tara picked up a menu. “Want to order something? Tea or a dessert?”
    I ordered apple pie, the no-sugar-added version, with ice cream. Victoria went with the chocolate cobbler, Tara the cobbler of the day, blueberry if I remember correctly, and then we looked at Kelly, waiting for her to say something.
    She giggled, “I’ll have the carrot cake.”
      “A seasonal choice, excellent.” Tara gathered up the menus.
    “And four sweet teas,” the waitress said as she walked away. It wasn’t a question. Like I said, we’re regulars.
    “Can I ask you something?” Kelly really did sound like a little girl when she spoke.
    “Sure.”
    “Where are you from?   You don’t sound like you’re from here.”
    “All three of us are native Atlantans . I was born in Crawford Long Hospital. I have an Atlanta accent instead of a Southern accent. Believe me, people up North say my accent is quite pronounced, and I lived outside the country for almost ten years.”
    “Outside the country.” She was imitating me, like I had spoken in a foreign language and she wanted to be sure she got it right. “I’ve always wanted to travel. Are you sisters?”
    “No,” we said together, laughing.
    “Then why do you dress alike?”
    We were wearing jeans and white blouses. Yes, all three of us. The blouses were a little different but not enough to matter. Oh, and our shoes were different. Big whoop. I wore Donald J. Pliner thong sandals, and Tara and Victoria both wore boots, Tara in Stuart Weitzman suede boots laced up outside her jeans and Victoria in Calvin Klein riding boots.
    “We didn’t do it on purpose.” Shit. I had hoped she wouldn’t notice.

 
     
     
     
    Three
     
    C ontinuation of statement by Leigh Reed. On Friday morning I was at Publix buying groceries when I noticed a man following me with his cart. This annoyed me no end, so I turned around and headed his way. This might sound hypocritical, considering what I do for a living, but who did he think he was?
    “Excuse me, ma’am. Is your name Leigh?” He was young and muscular with a buzz cut.
    “Yes, it is.”
    “I served under your husband in both Gulf wars. I’m Roger Wilson. I met you at a reception a few years back.”
    I exhaled and felt my shoulders relax. I told him it was good to see him, and we rolled our carts down the aisles, collecting items. He seemed to want to tell me something. Twice he went as far as stopping his cart and facing me. He just needed time to get it out. I put three Granny Smith apples in my cart and smiled when he did the same. Then we headed to the soup aisle.
    “We used to laugh about how little he socializes.”
    “I know. He’s a man of few words.” I had to laugh myself.
    “One day we had gone into a village and wound up in a firefight before we knew what was happening. We were crawling on our bellies, and then I heard him say, ‘Wilson,’ in my earpiece. I was lying there thinking, wow, the General knows my name. He said, ‘Head down,’ and then I heard two quick shots. I looked up to see that he had shot an insurgent’s hand off with a gun still in it and then shot the bas … him in the head.”
    I shivered, and he continued, “The next week I heard him in my earpiece again, telling me to halt. I did just before I would have detonated an IED. He had noticed the disturbed section of dirt they tell us to look for. That night I got up my nerve and approached him in the mess tent. I thanked him and said I would like to speak