1 Target of Death Read Online Free PDF

interfering as much as launching our own
investigation into the truth.”
    I pursed my lips. “Tell us a little about
Clayton. Was he a good husband?”
    “He went to work five days a week and
brought his paycheck home. That’s as good a husband as any, I suppose.”
    “So, leading up to his disappearance from
the house that day, was he acting out of character?”
    “He’s been distant for quite some time, but
I figured that he was so used to looking at titties at that stripper club, that
he just wasn’t all that interested in my flat chest.”
    “Oh, my,” Margarita said. “That’s a shame.”
    I surveyed the sweatpants with matching
sweatshirt that Marilyn wore and could almost agree. While I don’t have a man
to speak of, every woman should know that they should try and keep the package
looking worth unwrapping every now and then. “I’m sure it’s not your fault,” I
said before thinking.
    “Of course it wasn’t her fault her husband
turned into a woman chaser,” Margarita said. She then covered her mouth with a
hand.
    Dixie tapped her foot. “He wasn’t running
around on you, was he?”
    Marilyn frowned. “I’m not sure. He stayed
gone unless it was dinnertime most days, but I never considered for a minute
that he was straying.”
    “So, no perfume smell on his clothes or
matchbooks with phone numbers in his jeans?” I asked.
    “Good point, Tammy. You can find out a lot
about a man from rummaging through his pockets.” Margarita tucked a loose hair
behind one ear. “You know, if I thought my husband was acting suspicious….”
    “Oh, I had no idea you were married,” I
said.
    “I’m not, not anymore. My ex-husband,
Winston, didn’t know how to stay home. I caught him with Patsy McNalley. She
owns the beauty salon in town, Curls and Cuts.”
    Marilyn nodded. “I remember all too well.
She’s the town floozy. It’s a shame these men are so easily a slave to their
needs.”
    I bit my lip. She said it like it was a bad
thing. Women had needs, too. I all but ignored mine for my own sanity. “Is
there anything else you could say about your husband?” I asked Marilyn.
    “Nope, that’s about it. I just don’t know
what I’ll do now.”
    “You’ll do just fine,” Margarita reassured
her. “You’re still young and—”
    “I meant for funeral arrangements. I don’t
even have a checkbook.”
    I wrinkled my brow. “Are you saying he
never gave you any money?”
    “No, he gave me money every week, fifty
dollars, but he took care of the rest of our finances.”
    If that man weren’t already dead, I’d give
him a real pounding. He treated his wife like a slave, in my opinion. What man
this day and age gives his wife an allowance? Of course, most women these days
also had their own jobs. I, for one, never wanted to have to depend on a man
for anything. It’s just situations like this that made me know for dang sure to
depend on my own resources.
    “You might want to start looking for bank statements,”
I suggested. “Your husband must have some in the house somewhere.”
    “I suppose I’ll have to look, but he just
never told me anything about the bills. I hope my name is on the bank account,
at least.”
    “It might be a good idea to start calling
the banks in town. Surely he put your name as beneficiary, I would hope,”
Margarita said.
    I walked to the fireplace, warming my
backside, while Marilyn made her calls to the two banks in town. As she set the
phone down, she burst into tears. “They wouldn’t tell me anything.”
    “Well, that means one of two things,” I
said. “He doesn’t have an account in those banks or your name wasn’t listed as
a beneficiary. You’ll have to wait until you can get a copy of the death
certificate. You should be the heir unless he has children.”
    “None that I know of. That man sure left me
in a pickle. How on earth will I be able to pay for a decent burial with no
money?”
    “Take a look around the house. He might
have left some