LITTLE HIDDEN FEARS | GEORGIANA GERMAINE MYSTERIES #11 | PAPERBACK

Noelle Winters has just thrown the perfect engagement party ... or so she believes.

As the evening winds down and the toast is about the commence, the lights go out. And for someone, the night has just turned deadly.

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Want a sneak peek? Now we're giving you a sneak peek of the first three chapters!

 

CHAPTER 1 

Noelle Winters slipped in between the guests, humming to herself as she scooped up a few empty plates off the table and walked to the kitchen. Handing them off to one of the staff members she’d hired to assist her for the evening, she moved a hand to her hip, reminiscing over the night’s events.

            The party was winding down now, a fact she was pleased about. Over the last hour, her feet had begun to hurt, making her wish she hadn’t worn heels in the first place. She wanted nothing more than to kick them off and go barefoot for the remainder of the evening. And given most of the remaining attendees were at least a few wines in, she doubted anyone would notice, or care, for that matter.

            Six months of party planning had all come down to tonight, throwing the perfect engagement party for Zoey, her best friend since grade school. It was hard to believe a year ago Zoey was single and had announced she’d sworn off men for life. Noelle hadn’t believed a word of it. And sure enough, Zoey retracted the statement the second she laid eyes on the debonair Lucas Bronson.

            After a whirlwind, three-month romance, Lucas proposed, and Zoey said yes. Over the next several months, they planned their wedding. In a few short weeks, they’d marry, move in together, and begin their new life in Cambria, California.

Thinking about it now, it was hard for Noelle to believe how much had changed in so little time.

But Zoey was happy, which was all Noelle had ever wanted.

And while she was excited for the next chapter in Zoey’s life, there was a looming sense of unease in her own. In recent days, she’d taken an unexpected risk, one she might not have taken, even though it was the right thing to do. But that was a tomorrow problem. Tonight was about Zoey.

            A hand brushed across Noelle’s arm, and she turned to see a beaming Zoey standing next to her in a satin, champagne-colored, split-thigh dress. She recalled the day they’d gone shopping for it. Zoey must have tried on at least fifty dresses that day. But when she stepped out of the dressing room in the one she wore now, they both knew their search had ended.

            “I can’t thank you enough for hosting my engagement party,” Zoey said. “Every single moment tonight has been amazing.”

            Noelle smiled, saying, “If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

            “I am. Hey, I haven’t seen Lucas for a while. Have you?”

            Noelle hadn’t.

            She’d been so focused on the party there hadn’t been much time to focus on anything else.

            “Sorry, no. I’ve been preoccupied,” Noelle said.

            Zoey draped an arm around Noelle’s neck. “I thought that’s why you hired staff tonight, so you could relax and enjoy the party along with everyone else.”

            “I know, I know. I can’t help it. I want everything to be perfect.”

            “It is perfect. Promise me you’ll relax now.”

            “I promise I’ll try.”

            “Where’s Kiera? I haven’t seen her much tonight either.”

            “Dominic took her up to bed about a half an hour ago. I bet he’s still with her, helping her settle in,” Noelle said.

            “Or hiding out somewhere upstairs. Your husband has never been comfortable in a room full of people.”

            Noelle shot Zoey a wink. “That’s true, but when I suggested hosting the party here tonight, he was a good sport. I’m surprised he lasted as long as he did.”

            “I’m not. He’d do anything for you.”

            Almost anything.

            “It’s just about time for the toast,” Noelle said. “And given the guests have gone through almost all of the champagne, I need to bring in some reinforcements.”

            “Should I send someone to get more bottles?”

            “Not only do I have backups, I have backups for the backups.”

            They both laughed, and Noelle excused herself, heading upstairs to grab the additional bottles of champagne she’d stashed in the wine fridge upstairs. Along the way, she cracked open her daughter’s door and peeked inside. Five-year-old Kiera was curled on her side, fast asleep, her favorite white teddy bear clutched in her arms. Dominic was nowhere in sight.

            Noelle pulled the bedroom door closed and rounded the corner. She made her way to the wine fridge and bent down. The moment she reached inside to grab the bottles, the lights went out, cloaking the room in darkness.

            She heard gasps and cries of surprise from the guests downstairs as they bumped around, trying to find their way in the dark. Noelle thought she’d considered every possible scenario for tonight, but losing power had been the furthest thing from her mind.

            Thoughts swirling, she searched for a solution … and then, clarity came. Each of the skinny, high-top tables she’d rented for the evening had been decorated with a candle in its center. All she needed was to grab the mini flashlight out of her desk drawer, locate the matches in the kitchen, and light the candles.

            She stood and reached out, using her hands to feel her way along the wall toward her office. The moment she stepped inside, a strange sensation gripped her, like someone’s hands around her neck. And then came the squeeze, a crushing pain unlike anything she’d ever felt before.

Noelle wrestled for breath, but breath didn’t come, and as she struggled to maintain consciousness, every little hidden fear she’d ever had came collapsing down around her.

   

CHAPTER 2 

Two Weeks Later

I was sitting at my desk at the detective agency, waiting for my next appointment with to walk through the door. The woman was late. Seventeen minutes late, to be precise, and given I was a stickler for timeliness, I had a notion to cancel the meeting altogether.

Another eight minutes ticked by, and I decided to do just that.

Then the front door opened.

            A disheveled woman with long, auburn hair, the likes of which looked like it had been through a windstorm walked in. Her boho attire included a pair of colorful striped leggings, a light blue, floral print, V-neck blouse, and brown, suede booties.

            She grabbed a ponytail holder off her wrist, pulling her hair back into a loose bun.

            “Are you Zoey Morgan?” I asked.

            “I am.”

            “You’re twenty-five minutes late,” I said.

            She looked at me, blowing out a burst of air, and shrugged. “I am so sorry. I could have sworn I set my alarm last night, but this morning, it didn’t go off. I hope you’re not too upset with me.”

            I was, but saying as much wouldn’t change a thing.

            “Take a seat,” I said.

            “Oh, yes, thank you.”

            As she lowered herself into the chair, she reached into her oversized handbag, fumbling around for something. When she didn’t find what she was looking for, she began removing various items, piling them on my desk like it was a storage facility.

            “Just a second,” she said.

            Several seconds later, she pulled out a plastic baggie containing a handful of photos, and she handed it to me.

            I glanced inside the baggie. “What are these?”

            “Pictures taken the night my best friend was murdered,” she said. “Thought they might be useful.”

            “Useful how? I’m not sure why you asked to meet with me.”

            “Oh, isn’t it obvious? I’d like to hire you to investigate a murder.”

            I nodded, opening my desk drawer and removing a notebook and a pen. “Why don’t we start at the beginning?”

            Zoey took a deep breath in. “A couple of weeks ago, Noelle threw an engagement party for me at her house. As the night wound down, and only a handful of us remained, we decided to have a toast. Noelle went upstairs to get more bottles of champagne, and not long after, the electricity—and all the lights and music—went out.”

            “For how long?”

            “Five minutes, I guess. When all the lights came back on, Dominic screamed.”

            “Who’s Dominic?”

            “Noelle’s husband. I ran upstairs to see what all the fuss was about and found him hovering over Noelle’s body. At first, I thought she’d passed out. Dominic said she wasn’t breathing, and I called 9-1-1. Not that it mattered. She was already dead.”

            “What was the cause of death?”

            “She was strangled. And I … I just can’t imagine why anyone would do something like that to her.”

            The tears came fast, and Zoey shoved a hand back inside her bag, pulling out a small package of tissues. She blotted her eyes, and I waited.

            “I’m sorry,” she said.

            “You’ve just lost a close friend. It’s understandable. Can I get you something to drink?”

            “A glass of water would be nice. My throat feels like sandpaper.”

            I nodded and headed for the kitchen, grabbing her a glass of water and iced tea for myself. I returned to my office and handed her the glass, and she gulped half of the water down, using her hand to wipe the excess moisture off her face.

            “This past month … it’s been hard,” she said.  

            “I bet.”

            “Four weeks ago, I was about to get married, and then a single moment changed everything.”

            “Did you postpone the wedding?”

            “We did. I can’t think straight, let alone go through with the wedding right now. Lucas, my fiancé, has been great, and so supportive. If I’m being honest, I think he’s a bit relieved—about the wedding, not Noelle’s death. The truth is, I was the one pushing to get married.”

            “Didn’t Lucas want to get married?”

            “Oh, yeah. It’s just … he’s been married before, and it didn’t last long. The marriage was over in less than a year, but the trauma he went through left him with emotional scars. He’d vowed never to marry again.”

            “Why did he agree to give it another shot?”

            “I’ve never been married before. It’s always been a dream of mine, and he knows it. The day he proposed he said he never thought he’d ever be able to love anyone enough to walk down the aisle a second time until he met me.” She looked at me, her eyes glossing over my left hand. “Are you married?”

            “I was also married once before, and much like Lucas, I never planned to marry again either. Then I reunited with Giovanni, a man I went to college with, and … well, we admitted we’ve always had feelings for each other. We’re getting married in August.”

            “What a great love story.”

            Indeed.

            But she wasn’t here to talk about weddings.

            She was here to hire me to solve her friend’s murder.

            “Before the lights went out at your engagement party, how many guests were still at the house?” I asked.

            She tapped a finger on the desk, thinking. “Let’s see … including Noelle, Dominic, Lucas, and me, there were three other couples. Oh, and Kiera, Noelle’s daughter.”

            “How old is her daughter?”

            “She’s five. Cutest little thing you ever did see. I can’t imagine what she’s going through.”

            “Where was Kiera when her mother died?”

            “Upstairs, in bed.”

            “Did she see or hear anything?”

            “She said she didn’t.”

            “What about everyone else?” I asked. “Where were they?”

            “Dominic had taken Kiera to bed about thirty minutes earlier, and he was still upstairs when Noelle was murdered. He said he was in the bathroom. The rest of us were downstairs.”

            “When the lights came back on, were all of the guests there with you?”

            “Yes.”

            “What about your fiancé? Where was he?”

            “He was outside, smoking a cigarette. He came inside as soon as Dominic screamed.” She downed the rest of the water and cleared her throat. “Could I have some more water?”

            I nodded and went to refill her glass.

            Returning, I sat back down and said, “I’m assuming it was dark in the house when the lights went out.”

            “It was, we couldn’t see a thing.”

            “What did everyone do when the lights went out?”

            “We stood there, chatting, and wondering what to do.”

            “Did you hear anyone go up or down the stairs during the time the lights were out?”

            She shook her head. “The stairs are made of solid wood. They’re creaky and loud. I didn’t hear anyone on them, but I suppose it’s possible. I doubt it, though. Would have been hard to get up or down them in the dark.”

            Hard, not impossible.

            “How’s the investigation going so far?” I asked.

            “I don’t know. The first several days after the murder, Dominic was giving me updates. Then he stopped.”

            “Any idea why?”

            “As the weeks have gone on, he’s become more and more withdrawn. From what I understand, he’s not talking much to anyone.”

            I handed her my notebook and pen. “Can you write down the names of all the guests who were there when Noelle died and their contact information, if you have it?”

            “No problem.”

            She dug her phone out of her purse, using the directory to match phone numbers with names.

            When she handed the notebook and pen back to me, I said, “Including those guests who’d left before the lights went out, how many people were at the party?”

            “Around forty of our closest friends and family.”

            Forty.

            A lot of people to interview.

            The rest of them could wait.

            I needed to focus on those who were there at the time of the murder first.

            “Tell me about Noelle,” I said. “Did she have a lot of friends? Was she well liked?”

            “Noelle had tons of friends. She was such a good person, always doing things for others. She had a feisty side, though. It didn’t come out much, but it was there.”

            “How feisty are we talking?”

            “Hmm, might be best to give you an example. One time we were at a Brazilian steakhouse for lunch. It had been a while since the waiter had returned to the table, and I was after another glass of wine, so I got up to find him. I saw him at the front, chatting with the hostess. On my way over to him, I bumped into a woman, carrying a plate of food back to her table. The food flew off her plate, and it went everywhere. I turned to apologize to the woman, and before I could get any words out, she raised her voice, scolding me, using just about every expletive in the book.”

            “What did Noelle do?”

            “She raced over, standing in front of me like a shield. She looked at the woman and said if she uttered another word to me, she’d take the exchange outside.”

            “Outside as in, she threatened to fight her?”

            “Uhh, I mean, I feel like threatened is a bit harsh. She was being protective, that’s all. When a person is in Noelle’s inner circle, she has their back for life.”

            Maybe so, but a threat was a threat.

            “What did the woman do after Noelle stood up for you?” I asked.

            “She rolled her eyes, swished a hand in my direction, and walked off without saying another word.”

            “Sounds like Noelle shut her down.”

            Zoey let out a small laugh. “She sure did.”

            “Before she died, was there anyone she was feuding with … anyone you feel might have had a motive to kill her?”

            “I don’t know of anyone. Everything was going well in her life before she died. Her marriage was great, and they were talking about trying for another baby.”

            “Well, someone had it out for her.”

            “Someone did, which brings me to the reason I’d like to hire you. For one, I’d like to know what’s going on in the police investigation. And for two … well, I’ve heard if the police can’t find the person responsible for her murder, you can.”

            “I can, and I will.”

            Noelle’s life was good.

            Her marriage was good.

            But something in her life wasn’t.

            And I was determined to find out what.

 

CHAPTER 3

 Twisted Sister’s “We’re Not Gonna Take It” was blasting through the speakers when I entered the county coroner’s office. It didn’t take long for me to spot Silas, his hands in full air-guitar mode as he played along to the tune. Today he was dressed in his usual style—a Hawaiian shirt, linen slacks, and flip-flops. As the song’s chorus bellowed in the background, he did a swift kick in the air and spun around, his eyes widening when he spotted me standing there, watching. Startled, he froze. Then he reached for a remote control and paused the music.

            “I … ahh, hey, Georgiana,” he said. “How long have you been standing there?”

            “Long enough. Looks like you’re having a fun day at work.”

            “Oh, I don’t know about that. I’m on my lunch break, thought I’d blow off some steam.”

            Silas was one of the most laid-back, happy people I knew, making his comment about blowing off steam surprising.

            “Is everything all right?” I asked.

            “Wish I could say it was, but no, it’s not. I kinda made a mess of things with Lana last night.”

            Silas and Lana had started dating several months before, and his relationship with her was one of the longest he’d ever had.

            “What happened?” I asked.

“She broke up with me.”

            “Why?”

            “She’s pushing me to move in together.”

            Seemed a little soon to me.

            “You two haven’t been dating long,” I said. “Four months, right?”

            “Five, and I agree, it hasn’t been long enough. Ask me, any talk about shacking up needs to wait until we hit the year mark.”

            “How did you respond when she suggested you two move in together?”

            “I said I wasn’t ready, and … well, it wasn’t the response she wanted, that’s for sure. She flipped out, started ranting about how she couldn’t stay in a relationship with a person who didn’t love her as much as she loved them.”

            How passive-aggressive of her.

“It’s not true,” he continued. “I’ve loved that woman from the moment I laid eyes on her. I just don’t see the need to rush things, you know? If we’re meant to be together, we will be. What’s the rush?”

            He leaned against his desk, crossed one leg in front of the other, and sighed, and I tried to muster up some words of encouragement.

            “Maybe Lana just needs a little time to process the conversation you had last night,” I said.

            He shrugged. “Maybe. Doesn’t feel good, though. Hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since our little tiff, and I miss her like crazy.”

            “How did the conversation end?”

            “She stormed out of my house, slammed the door, and drove off.”

            “Have you been in contact since then?”

            He swished a hand through the air. “Nah, figured she needs some space to sort through her feelings. I’ll be honest, I’m bummed out. I thought we had something special, something different than the ladies I’ve been with in the past.”

            Different was good.

We’d been friends for years, and while he’d dated here and there, he didn’t commit to women often, which led me to believe he’d end up a lifelong bachelor. He’d always been a free spirit, a man who didn’t like being tied to anything for too long … well tied down to anything other than his surfboard.

            “How is Lana different than the other women you’ve dated?” I asked.

            “It’s the connection we have—or had, I guess. Never felt anything like it. She’s the best thing that’s ever come into my life … aside from you, I mean.”

            He offered me a cheeky grin, and we both laughed.

            “Have you told Lana how you feel about her?” I asked.

            “I’ve said things here and there, sure.”

            “Have you told her what you just told me?”

            “No, guess I haven’t.”

            “Why not?”

“I get a little tongue-tied talking to her about deep stuff. I get nervous around her—butterflies, you know? It’s different, talking to you. We’re buddies. We have history.”

            “We do. Lots of good memories over the years.”

“With Lana, we’re still in those early days of getting to know each other. I’ve been a little paranoid about messing up, and for good reason. I just did.”

“Relationships aren’t perfect. She should know that. If she wants to move in, it tells me she’s trying to create a future with you, which isn’t a bad thing, even if the timing isn’t right.”

He ran a hand along his forehead, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. “I need your advice, Gigi. Do you think I should … you know, reach out to her in some way? Or should I wait?”

“How about doing a subtle check-in?”

“Not sure what you mean.”

“Start off easy. Send her a text message. Keep it brief, let her know you’re thinking of her. Tell her you hope she’s doing all right, or you hope she’s having a good day … something like that.”

He wagged a finger at me, “Good idea. Should I do it now or …?”

“Now’s good.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “You don’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

I waited while he typed out his message one finger at a time, deleted it, typed it again, deleted it and then nodded, satisfied on his third try.

“And … sent,” he said. “I’m all yours. Figure you’re here for a reason. What’s up?”

“Maybe my reason for stopping by is to check in and see how you’ve been.”

“As much as I appreciate that, we check in every Friday at the coffee shop. You get a new case, or something?”

“I did. I’ve just been hired to investigate the death of Noelle Winters.”

“Ahh, I wondered if you’d wind up getting involved. Her friend came here. Pushy little lass. She was asking all kinds of questions about the autopsy. I wanted to help her, but I, you know … I can’t.”

“When Zoey came to see me this morning, she said Noelle was strangled.”

“Yep.”

“Manual or ligature?”

“Manual.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard the electricity at Noelle’s house went out on the night she was murdered. It was out for five minutes or so. She was alive before the electricity went out, and dead when it came back on. Is five minutes enough time to strangle someone to death?”

“You betcha. When a person is being strangled, they lose consciousness within seconds. The pressure alone blocks the veins and arteries in the neck, stopping the flow of oxygenated blood to the brain.”

            “I knew it happened fast, but not that fast.”

            “A mere eleven pounds of pressure is all that’s needed to cut off blood flow.”

            “Leaving the victim with permanent brain damage.”

            “You’re right. Brain damage within thirty seconds, and death shortly thereafter.”

            In the past, I’d only had one case involving strangulation, and it taught me a lot. Based on statistics in strangulation cases over the years, women were strangled six times more often than men, and often because the assailant was experiencing intense emotion and rage. I’d always found murder by way of strangulation different than the other ways one could kill a person. The interaction was far more intimate. It wasn’t always about the murder itself. It was about the need to exercise power and control over the victim’s next breath.

            “Strangulation is an awful way for anyone to go, even if death comes quicker sometimes,” I said. “It’s just as terrifying.”

            “Yep, I agree.”

            “Is there anything else I should know as I get going on this case?” I asked.

            “Still early days. If something comes up, I’ll give you a holler.”

            I nodded. “All right, see you on Friday.”

            “Hang on a second. There’s one other thing I should mention. The murderer left fingerprint indentations on Noelle’s neck. Based on the size, I’m leaning toward a man, not a woman. If I’m wrong, and a woman is responsible, her hands are larger than most.”

            I turned. “Thanks for the tip.”

            “Any time. And hey, while I have you here, you ought to take a look at a few of the autopsy photos, so you can see the fingerprints for yourself.”

            “I’d appreciate it.”

            He reached into the top drawer of his desk, pulling out a file folder, and then handing it to me. I spent the next several minutes going over the photos. Silas was right. The marks on Noelle’s neck were significant in size.

            “I was told the husband was upstairs when Noelle died, and their five-year-old daughter was in her room.”

            Silas bowed his head, huffing out a heavy sigh. “Always sad when a child loses a parent.”

            “It is. Have you met Noelle’s husband?”

            “I have. He was at the house, talking to the police when I showed up.”

            “How was he?”

            “Frantic. Broken up. Seemed genuine, though I suppose that’s not my expertise. It’s yours.”

            One last thought crossed my mind.

            “I’m guessing, given there were so many people in attendance at the engagement party, it must be difficult for you to sort out fingerprints,” I said. “Bet they were everywhere.”

            “Difficult doesn’t even begin to describe it. It’s like finding a matching brick in a stack of similar bricks. Could take months to sort them all out, which brings me to an even better solution.”

            “What’s that?”

            “You could do us both a favor—find the killer and save me the trouble.”

            He was right.

            Months to sort through the plethora of fingerprints he’d collected at the crime scene was far too long.

            I needed answers, and I needed them now.