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Tempting The Detective
img img Tempting The Detective img Chapter 4 4
4 Chapters
Chapter 6 6 img
Chapter 7 7 img
Chapter 8 8 img
Chapter 9 9 img
Chapter 10 10 img
Chapter 11 11 img
Chapter 12 12 img
Chapter 13 13 img
Chapter 14 14 img
Chapter 15 15 img
Chapter 16 16 img
Chapter 17 17 img
Chapter 18 18 img
Chapter 19 19 img
Chapter 20 20 img
Chapter 21 21 img
Chapter 22 22 img
Chapter 23 23 img
Chapter 24 24 img
Chapter 25 25 img
Chapter 26 26 img
Chapter 27 27 img
Chapter 28 28 img
Chapter 29 29 img
Chapter 30 30 img
Chapter 31 31 img
Chapter 32 32 img
Chapter 33 33 img
Chapter 34 34 img
Chapter 35 35 img
Chapter 36 36 img
Chapter 37 37 img
Chapter 38 38 img
Chapter 39 39 img
Chapter 40 40 img
Chapter 41 41 img
Chapter 42 42 img
Chapter 43 43 img
Chapter 44 44 img
Chapter 45 45 img
Chapter 46 46 img
Chapter 47 47 img
Chapter 48 48 img
Chapter 49 49 img
Chapter 50 50 img
Chapter 51 51 img
Chapter 52 52 img
Chapter 53 53 img
Chapter 54 54 img
Chapter 55 55 img
Chapter 56 56 img
Chapter 57 57 img
Chapter 58 58 img
Chapter 59 59 img
Chapter 60 60 img
Chapter 61 61 img
Chapter 62 62 img
Chapter 63 63 img
Chapter 64 64 img
Chapter 65 65 img
Chapter 66 66 img
Chapter 67 67 img
Chapter 68 68 img
Chapter 69 69 img
Chapter 70 70 img
Chapter 71 71 img
Chapter 72 72 img
Chapter 73 73 img
Chapter 74 74 img
Chapter 75 75 img
Chapter 76 76 img
Chapter 77 77 img
Chapter 78 78 img
Chapter 79 79 img
Chapter 80 80 img
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Chapter 4 4

Her phone rang again. It was Christopher's parents. She'd felt horrible that they'd learned about their son's murder on the news, but she didn't have time to tell them first since she'd been at that damn station. She'd been in shock, so much so that it hadn't occurred to her to call anyone. When she returned home from the police station, it was then that she had reluctantly dialed their number. The overwhelming relief she'd felt when she'd gone straight to voicemail had made her feel guilty, on top of everything else.

Despite that, too exhausted to deal with anything else, she let their call go to voicemail. They'd left three messages already. What was one more? She'd phone them back once she'd made all the funeral arrangements. That way, they couldn't take over. She knew if they did, the ceremony would be the antithesis of Christopher.

While his parents were super religious, Christopher had often claimed he had no use for such "nonsense." And while they'd never actually discussed his wishes regarding a funeral, Vanessa suspected he'd prefer something elegant and tasteful, as befitted his status as a gubernatorial hopeful. She planned to do her best to give him that. It seemed the least she could do.

She brewed a quick cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine would give her enough energy to make it through the rest of this day. After gulping down a bowl of cereal, and a steaming hot shower, she carefully styled her hair. Then she sat at her vanity and expertly applied her makeup, keeping it basic. That done, she chose a simple navy shirtdress and navy flats. After she'd married Christopher, he'd overhauled her entire wardrobe, culling everything vivid or bright, telling her those colors made her look cheap. She'd hated it and when she left him she'd gone back to wearing those colors he hated, but today, navy would be perfect.

One last quick look in the mirror and she was ready. She'd already made a call to Blackenstock Funeral Home, and Jeremy Blackenstock himself would be meeting with her. He'd been very solicitous on the phone. Of course, he understood the media attention Christopher's funeral would draw. Not to mention all of Christopher's business colleagues and politicians who would be in attendance.

There would even be a few relatives. In addition to his parents, he had an aunt and an uncle, plus three cousins. As far as she knew, that would be it. Christopher didn't have any friends who weren't tied to him due to business, at least that she knew of. The entire scenario made her exhausted before it even began.

She headed out, unlocked her car and slid behind the wheel. A few deep breaths and she had her armor back in place. When she pulled up at the funeral home and parked, Jeremy himself opened the ornate double front doors and ushered them inside. His entire demeanor managed to be both subdued and sympathetic. He took them to a small room paneled in oak and asked them to take a seat at the conference table.

The next two hours passed with excruciating slowness. She signed papers, chose the date the funeral would be held and helped Jeremy write the obituary. For this, she'd done some online searching, using a lot of the background her husband's people had provided on his website. Finally, the time had come to choose the casket.

From what she knew of her husband, Christopher would prefer something expensive and elegant. When she told Jeremy this, he nodded and took her elbow. Then he walked her past the main showroom, into a smaller and more exclusive one in the back. Here there were only three coffins. They were placed on velvet-covered platforms with strategic lighting designed to showcase their expensive specialness.

They were all different. One very elegant and subdued. Another modern and high-tech, apparently made of stainless steel or some other kind of polished metal. And the third, sitting above all the others, made of polished mahogany that gleamed.

Wearily, Vanessa pointed to the third one. With its dark wood and pewter finishes, she knew it most closely matched Christopher's personality. It would look the best on display for the service.

"Will you have a minister or preacher?" Jeremy asked next. She had to think about that one for a moment. Christopher's parents had raised him in a super strict church. As an adult, he'd rebelled and refused to attend any church. Only when he'd begun the process of looking into running for governor had he reluctantly selected a church on the advice of his sponsors. He'd chosen something the polar opposite of the kind of church where he'd been raised. A staid and refined Methodist church on the north side of town. She supposed she'd need to contact that church and see about arranging something.

Once she'd told Jeremy her plans, he nodded. Clearing his throat, he slid an invoice across the table toward her and asked her how she wanted to pay.

The amount seemed staggering, but then she had no idea what a funeral was supposed to cost. Removing her checkbook from her purse, she checked the balance in the ledger and then wrote a check for the entire amount.

"Here you go," she said, handing him the check.

Briefly, she closed her eyes, trying to regain her bearings. The numbness had grown stronger since Christopher's murder. She felt as if she'd retreated into a thick fog. Blinking back a threat of sudden tears, she shook her head. Safer, much safer, to retreat back into the soft gray distance where nothing could touch her. Standing, she realized Jeremy had left the room. He'd left the door open. Smoothing down her skirt, she swallowed and headed toward the exit.

"Mrs. Spencer?" Jeremy appeared, his forehead creased in concern. "There seems to be a problem with the check."

"A problem?" She rubbed the back of her neck. "I don't understand."

"When we went to electronically run the check, your bank declined it."

Stunned, she stared at him. "Why?"

He swallowed. "It appears there are insufficient funds."

"That's not possible." Fumbling in her purse, she pulled out the checkbook and opened it to the ledger. "See?" She pointed. "Here's the balance. There's more than enough to cover that check."

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