Free The Investigator by Chris Taylor Page A

shit. It was the fact that the bitch had cut him out— him, Local Area Police Commander, Darryl Watson—that had pissed him off.
    A shaft of fire spiraled through his gut. Ever since he’d found out about the will and its contents, his ulcer had been playing up something fierce. His wife of twenty years had written him out of her will. As if he was nothing, a nobody. The humiliation of it.
    What was worse, until he’d stumbled across it in the bottom drawer of her desk, he hadn’t suspected a thing.
    They’d both made wills not long after they’d married. Although Rosemary had come to him with little more than the clothes on her back and a cowardly daughter in tow, he’d thought it important to make her feel she was an equal partner in their marriage—and she had been—at least in the early days.
    Despite her disability, Rosemary Collins had been beautiful. Her navy-blue eyes were both mysterious and intriguing and hinted at secrets he yearned to uncover. Her rich, golden hair had cascaded like a thick swathe of silk down her back. He couldn’t wait to feel it spread across his bare skin. Though confined to a wheelchair, her figure had been enviably slim. In contrast, her breasts were full and round and bountiful, pressing teasingly against her shirtfront, pulling the fabric taut.
    He hadn’t been the only hot-blooded male in Watervale who’d lusted over the newly arrived widow. The fact that she’d had all of the single male population and even some of the married ones walking around town with hard-ons had only increased her desirability.
    He had to have her. He had to have her, so no one else could. It was as simple as that.
    When they’d married a scant few months after her arrival, he’d been the happiest man in the world. Despite the inconvenience of the child that came with her, he’d spent countless hours enjoying the bounty of Rosemary’s body—a task made even more enjoyable knowing how many others wished they were in his place.
    In the early days, he’d paraded her around town for everyone to see and lust after. He’d taken her to balls and dinners and other social outings, always insisting she dress provocatively. He loved to see the agony and the envy in the glazed eyes of his colleagues as they looked on and hankered.
    But, like all new toys, after awhile, the novelty wore off. The thrill of twisting the men of Watervale into hard knots of unfulfilled desire eventually lost its shine. Over time, Rosemary’s looks faded and he became less and less enamored of her charms. It was about that time he began to notice Kate.
    The child had been little more than an inconvenience in the early days of his marriage. Right from the beginning, he’d made sure she was banished to live on her own upstairs, away from her mother and the constant bids the girl made for her mother’s attention and he’d barely noticed the kid in his everyday comings and goings.
    But, as the years passed and his desire for Rosemary waned, he noticed just how much the girl had grown—and how beautiful she’d become. She was the image of her mother. His interest in the girl became more focused. The more he studied her, the more he wanted her…
    And now she’d returned.
    Her arrival had taken him by surprise. He’d never expected her to come home, even when her mother stopped contacting her. It was the one thing he hadn’t planned for. The fact that she had not only returned, but had gone to the police, created an added complication.
    He’d had it all worked out. Over the preceding days, he’d carefully dropped subtle and not-so-subtle hints among his friends that things weren’t so rosy at home. He’d cunningly let them know his wife’s condition was deteriorating and his ability to care for her had become strained and even though he was loathe to do it, he couldn’t help but contemplate the necessity of moving her into a nursing home.
    His friends had responded exactly like he’d expected. They’d commiserated