Dirty Laundry Read online

  Dirty Laundry

  A J.J. Graves Mystery (Book 6)

  Liliana Hart

  Contents

  Title Page

  Acknowledgments

  Other Books

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Say No More - EXTRA

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Liliana Hart

  Copyright © 2018 by Liliana Hart

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  Published by 7Th Press

  * * *

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  To Scott- because the conversation JJ and Jack have about where to eat might be a true story. And also because I love it when you give me a high five and tell me “good game.”

  * * *

  Also to Ava, Ellie, Max, Jamie, and Graham- because I love you, even though it takes me twice as long to get my word count done for the day when you’re home from school.

  Acknowledgments

  A huge thanks to the readers who have been so patient while waiting for JJ and Jack’s next adventure. I have the BEST readers, and I adore all of you.

  * * *

  A big thanks to Lyndsey Lewellen for always doing amazing covers. Thanks to my editor, Holly Atkinson, for cleaning up the messes. And thanks to Paul Salvette and Scott Silverii for taking care of the formatting.

  * * *

  Also a big thanks to Scott for being an amazing husband, partner, and cheerleader in life and business. I’m so blessed to have you, and I love you more every day.

  JJ Graves Mystery Series

  Dirty Little Secrets

  A Dirty Shame

  Dirty Rotten Scoundrel

  Down and Dirty

  Dirty Deeds

  Dirty Laundry

  * * *

  Addison Holmes Mystery Series

  Whiskey Rebellion

  Whiskey Sour

  Whiskey For Breakfast

  Whiskey, You’re The Devil

  Whiskey on the Rocks

  Whiskey Tango Foxtrot

  Whiskey and Gunpowder

  * * *

  The Gravediggers

  The Darkest Corner

  Gone to Dust

  Say No More

  * * *

  The MacKenzies of Montana

  Dane

  A Christmas Wish: Dane

  Thomas

  To Catch A Cupid: Thomas

  Riley

  Cooper

  A MacKenzie Christmas

  Riley: Fireworks

  Cooper: The Ties that Bind

  * * *

  MacKenzie Security Series

  Cade

  Shadows and Silk

  Secrets and Satin

  Sins and Scarlet Lace

  Sizzle

  Crave

  Trouble Maker

  Scorch

  * * *

  Lawmen of Surrender (MacKenzies-1001 Dark Nights)

  1001 Dark Nights: Captured in Surrender

  1001 Dark Nights: The Promise of Surrender

  Sweet Surrender

  Dawn of Surrender

  * * *

  The MacKenzie World (read in any order)

  Trouble Maker

  Bullet Proof

  Deep Trouble

  Delta Rescue

  Desire and Ice

  Rush

  Spies and Stilettos

  Wicked Hot

  Hot Witness

  Avenged

  Never Surrender

  * * *

  Stand Alone Titles

  Breath of Fire

  Kill Shot

  Catch Me If You Can

  All About Eve

  Paradise Disguised

  Island Home

  The Witching Hour

  Fortune’s Treasure (Second Chances Anthology)

  * * *

  Books by Liliana Hart and Scott Silverii

  * * *

  The Harley and Davidson Mystery Series

  The Farmer’s Slaughter

  A Tisket a Casket

  I Saw Mommy Killing Santa Claus

  Get Your Murder Running

  Deceased and Desist

  Prologue

  Yellow linen curtains billowed gently against the open windows of the little frame house. It was too early in the summer to turn on the air conditioner, and her fixed income appreciated the cool, breezy evenings that allowed her to stay comfortable during the night.

  As far as safety was concerned, no one worried much about locking their doors or shutting their windows in Bloody Mary. The town was almost as safe as it had been sixty years before, when she’d moved there as a young bride.

  Oh, how she missed her sweet Henry. He’d been gone now longer than they’d been married, and her memories of him were as a young man with an easy smile and lines at the corners of his eyes when he laughed. He was always laughing. They’d had twenty-two years together before his heart had given out.

  They’d never been blessed with children, and she’d never had the heart to marry another, though she’d barely been forty when she’d found herself in widow’s black. But she’d had a good life—a full life—filled with friends and community. And she’d been content to stay in the little house she and Henry had shared.

  She’d filled the days since his death tending the bakery that she’d opened with his insurance money, providing sweets and baked goods to the whole county. She was proud to say that Rosie’s Sweet Shop had become quite a hangout for Virginians through the years. She’d run it as long as she could before arthritis and age had caught up with her.

  But age had only stopped her business, not her passion, and she still baked daily, handing out treats to anyone who looked like they could use a pick-me-up. The children on the street especially liked to come by after school for lemonade and cookies.

  Yes, her life had been long and full, but there were days she ached to see her Henry again.

  She sighed and reached down to pet the soft fur of the cat twining between her legs.

  “Isn’t that right, Andromeda?” she said, smiling as the cat purred back at her. “I only hope these wrinkles go away before he sees me again. I doubt he’d recognize me otherwise.”

  Jealous of the attention Andromeda was getting, Nicodemus and Juliet jumped down from the couch where they’d been watching a rerun of Entertainment Tonight, since television programming was rather limited at five in the morning, and they fought for the space between her feet.

  The timer dinged from the kitchen and she pushed back the chair at the little desk she’d been sitting at and closed the lid on her laptop. All her best work was done in the early morning hours, and she hadn’t been able to break the habit of waking early to start her day with the sweet scents coming from her kitchen.

  She pushed open the swinging door that led into the kitchen, the cats weaving around her feet, and took the yellow oven mitts from the counter. Her kitchen had always been cheerful and sunny—the bright yellow splashes of color making it seem more like daylight while the sky was still dark.

  A cat meowed, and she glanced toward the ancient white Persian that was curled on the
bench seat next to the big square window that looked out over her flowers. The only light came from the moon. She’d meant to replace the bulb on her back porch light, but it kept slipping her mind.

  The fluffy white cat meowed again, but didn’t move from his place on the bench.

  “You always wake up when it’s time to eat, right Charlemagne? Age hasn’t affected your nose. Don’t worry, you lazy boy. I’ll bring you a plate.” At fifteen, Charlemagne deserved a little pampering.

  The cinnamon rolls had risen beautifully, and she set them on top of the stove so she could ice them. People always asked what made her icing taste so good, but she’d never told a soul. The recipe was her secret. She could always keep a secret.

  She hummed Billie Holliday while she iced the cinnamon rolls and smiled at the scratches that came from the others side of the door. It swung back and forth a couple of times before there was enough room for Silas and Seamus—gray tabby brothers she’d found abandoned behind the Dollar Store dumpster—to slip through.

  “Just in time, boys,” she said. “Like clockwork. But you know they need to cool for a few minutes. Don’t get greedy thinking you’re going to jump up here and get a head start.”

  She covered the tray with a dish towel and put the empty icing bowl in the sink. The days of having someone wash her dishes while she did nothing but bake were long gone, and she filled the bowl with hot water and decided to let it wait a bit. She still had some work to do.

  Her apron was tied around her dressing gown. She shucked it off and hung it on the hook on the back of the door as she pushed her way through to the living room, this time with only Juliet at her feet. Poor girl had never been the sharpest knife in the drawer.

  The laptop was gone from the desk, and she stared at the empty space blankly for a minute or two, trying to remember what she’d done with the thing. She’d gotten quite good with computers over the years, doing her books and recipes, among other things, with ease. She was sure she’d left it right there on the desk. But maybe…

  A crash came from the bedroom, glass shattered, and she gasped and spun toward the bedroom door, a hand to her heaving chest. And then she let out a twinkle of a laugh as a streak of orange slithered around the doorjamb and hid under the couch.

  “Heavens, Lucille,” she said. “You near scared me to death. And what have you broken? I told you to stay off my dresser, you naughty thing.”

  She shuffled into the bedroom, her house slippers scraping against the hardwood floors, and made her way to the lamp on her nightstand. The moonlight cast a triangle of silvery light on the floor and the corner of her bed.

  Her hand searched for the dangling chain of the lamp, and she’d just gotten hold of it when she saw a shadow pass across the triangle of light and rush straight toward her.

  There was no time to do more than whimper as something crashed against the side of her head. Then there was nothing but blackness.

  Chapter One

  The King George Tattler

  * * *

  My loyal readers:

  What a week it’s been! I think it’s true what they say about extreme temperatures. Surely the only explanation for the behavior of some of King George County’s finest is due to the heat wave. Tempers are short and poor life choices are at an all-time high. That’s good news for me and great news for you, as you’re the ones paying the subscription fee for such juicy gossip.

  I’ve got eyewitness reports that say there was quite a ruckus at King George Hospital this week. Dr. and Mrs. Trevor Sloane welcomed a bouncing baby boy. Unfortunately, Baby Boy Sloane has a remarkable resemblance to Rafael Ortega, who has been gardening more than the Sloane’s front yard, if you get my meaning. It’s said the screams of outrage could be heard through the whole hospital, and Dr. Sloane had to be escorted from the premises. There’s more to this story, but you’ll have to wait for next week’s edition.

  Our deepest sympathies here at the Tattler go out to Mayor Walsh in Nottingham. I’ve heard through the grapevine that he’d planned to put his hat in the ring for the next gubernatorial election, but with the early stages of Parkinson’s disease setting in, who knows if that dream will become a reality.

  Rumor also has it that King George’s very own A-lister, Cherise Dupree has taken up residence at her mother’s house for the summer after a nasty divorce and whisperings of financial mismanagement. Of course, those of you who grew up here during a certain era know that her name wasn’t always Cherise Dupree, but mum’s the word on that little secret. I can’t do all the work for you, now can I?

  Oh…this is a doozy. Hearts broke across the state of Virginia when our own Sheriff Lawson decided to take himself off the most eligible bachelor list last month. And to a most unlikely candidate, as county coroner JJ Graves is hardly the woman any of us would have matched him with. Especially since her parents are known felons. Ahh…but they say love is blind, after all.

  Or is it?

  I saw with my very own eyes a certain sheriff’s vehicle parked in the alleyway behind the strip mall on Catherine of Aragon just past three in the morning. Let’s just say that the vehicle was rocking. You all know the rest of the saying. And in my experience, though you know I’d never make assumptions, shenanigans like that typically don’t happen between married couples.

  There’s no need to sneak about when one has that shiny gold band around the finger, unless a certain someone is sneaking about with someone other than his wife. Time will only tell if the sheriff’s marriage is on the rocks. I know there are plenty of women interested in him becoming a free agent once again. Of course, who knows if this will hurt his chances of reelection come November. Only time will tell…

  “That vile, horrible bit—” I started to say before I remembered I was trying not to swear so much.

  “Good catch,” Vaughn said, not looking up from the laptop where he’d been reading aloud. “Your quarter jar is getting pretty full.”

  I gave him a narrowed look and went back to the task of refilling my oversized coffee mug that warned others to approach with caution. I added extra cream and sugar and prayed this cup would be the one that had me on full alert. I’m a slow starter in the mornings, so I generally give myself a good two hours to acclimate before I allow myself to join the general population. It’s safer for everyone that way.

  My name is JJ Graves, and I had good reason to add a few extra quarters into my swear jar. According to the KGT—short for King George Tattler—my month-long marriage was on the brink of disaster. It didn’t matter that Madam Scandal, who’d brought both terror and titillation into the lives of the residents of King George County, Virginia for months now, was correct about seeing Jack’s truck in the alley behind the strip mall. She’d also been right about what had been happening inside the truck.

  I wanted to give Madam Scandal credit where credit was due. She certainly got around, and her accuracy level was impressive. And terrifying. I could see where she’d assume it was someone besides me in the car with Jack. We had no excuse for our behavior other than we’d been stuck working a late-night suicide and we’d had a lot of pent up energy to dispose of on the way home. At least that’s the justification I’m most comfortable with.

  It’s not as easy to do spontaneous, irresponsible things like that once you’re in your thirties. Jack was still limping from where he’d twisted his knee, and I’d done something to my hip. Which is depressing, because I’m at the age where I can say things like, “I’ve done something to my hip.”

  I’ll admit, I’ve enjoyed marriage much more than I ever thought possible. Of course, I only had my parents to look to for an example, so I didn’t really have a lot of high expectations going in. But Jack was my best friend, and he filled a place in me that had been empty for far too long.

  “Top me off, would you?” Vaughn asked, holding out his cup.

  “You find this entertaining, don’t you?”

  “If I say yes, will you still give me coffee?”

  I sighed
and brought the pot to where he’d been sitting on the barstool beside me, filling his cup. Vaughn took it black, no sugar.

  The men in my life took care of their bodies. I, on the other hand, was living on the borrowed time of good genetics and metabolism, as I had the eating habits of a college freshman. Sugar and gluten were two of my favorite ingredients.

  As someone who gets an intimate look at the body after one dies, you’d think I’d be more cautious about such things. I’ve seen the damage that unhealthy lifestyles cause on the organs. But one thing I know with certainty is that we’ll all eventually end up six feet under. There’s no escaping death, so I might as well enjoy life.

  “Keep reading,” I said. “Who’s next?”

  “You and Jack were the last,” he said. “I’d say she did a pretty good job this week. She ruined Joe Walsh’s chances of running for governor and she essentially put Jack back on the open market.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m not sure the women here ever considered him off the market. It amazes me how little the sight of a wedding ring seems to matter to some of these women.”

  “Nothing but harlots,” Vaughn agreed sympathetically. “And Jack’s gotten good at deflecting unwanted advances over the years. You know, there was a time when I actually thought that’s what he majored in at college.”