The Wicked Wife (Murder in Marin Book 2) Read Online Free

northernmost point, there were just a few cars on the road that late January weekday night. Moments later, they exited the highway near the entrance to Tiburon.  
    Having grown up in the nearby town of Larkspur, Willow knew the route well. Yet it had been many years since she had glided along Blithedale Boulevard, the road that hugged the backwaters of Richardson Bay, which divided the Tiburon Peninsula from the yacht-filled shores of Sausalito.  
    Just after entering the downtown area of Tiburon, the driver made a sharp right, heading over the short causeway into Belvedere and began the climb up to Golden Gate Avenue. It was the longer of the approaches to Golden Gate Avenue, but certainly the more scenic, affording hilltop views of Tiburon’s boat harbor and romantic and expansive views of the sparkling lights of San Francisco from the Belvedere side of the bay. Although narrow and winding, the driver instinctively knew this was the route his employer would most prefer on this special night.
    Small lights along a perfectly manicured lawn illuminated the driveway of William’s palatial home. As they pulled up in front of the massive glass front door adorned with ornate ironwork, William was quite convinced that he must have, by now, impressed the young woman he so admired.

    Willow smiled sweetly as she stepped inside the front door. The floor of the grand circular foyer had a two-story atrium and an Italian marble floor. A gracefully curving stairway, trimmed with mahogany accents, ascended to a second floor balcony.  
    Willow thought, what a lovely welcoming home. Yes, I could happily live here.
    With the exception of his live-in housekeeper, Mrs. Jackson, the staff had all departed for the night. She offered to prepare something for them, but William assured her that they would be perfectly fine. He then introduced Willow Wisp as the woman who, “Half the women in the world would like to be.”  
    “You’re being silly,” Willow purred demurely, as she took Mrs. Jackson’s hand.  
    Mrs. Jackson went off to her downstairs bedroom, hoping that she would never see this Willow Wisp person again.  

    William ushered Willow into what he called the den. “It’s my favorite room in this old place,” he told her. As it was on any winter’s night, the fireplace was prepared with wood, and waiting to be lit. Two comfortable overstuffed chairs in the perfectly appointed room were positioned facing the fire.  
    It’s absolutely perfect, Willow thought.
    She’s utterly perfect, William thought, as he offered to make her a drink.
    “Perhaps just a little sherry with water,” she said.
    “Sounds wonderful, I’ll join you,” William said, as he headed over to a cabinet bar, hoping there was a bottle of sherry inside. There was, and William quickly poured their drinks. He sat back down just as the lit aged hard hickory began to be fully consumed in flame.
    “I want to know all about you,” William said, determined not to be the least bit shy. It had been a very long time since he’d been in such an intimate setting with another woman. Actually, it had last occurred when he and Fran spent that fateful anniversary weekend at their Lake Tahoe home.
    But there should be no dwelling on that terrible time now, William told himself. Although his suffering had lasted what by now seemed like an eternity, he was in the presence of a woman he found utterly beguiling, and his turning morbid would do nothing but put a very quick end to their evening.  
    As Willow sat back into the soft embrace of one of two lovely Queen Anne chairs positioned ideally to enjoy the fire’s warmth, she graced William with a sweet smile and said, “Let’s see, all about me. Where should I begin?”
    She launched into a story she had told many times before. “I got my very first modeling job at eighteen. One of my high school girlfriends dared me to go on the audition.”  
    That was her first lie. Willow didn’t have any high school