Money Creek Read online

  Money Creek

  Synopsis

  All Clare Lehane wanted was a new start. When her problem with pills costs her her job in Chicago, she moves to Money Creek in rural Illinois to take up her legal career in a small firm and remake her life. But old habits die hard, and she soon finds a drug dealer, Henry, who turns out to be the son of her new boss. Henry blackmails Clare into helping him launder drug money, but his plans don’t stop there: he intends to make her part of his cartel.

  Everything changes when Clare goes to a party with Henry and his associates. While she’s in the bathroom, the rest of the party is ambushed and killed. She flees the scene of the crime and calls in the murders anonymously. If anyone finds out she was there and saw the killer as they were leaving, she’d lose everything—the job she loves, her law license, and especially her burgeoning relationship with Freya Saucedo, a member of the local drug task force.

  Clare is living a lie that runs deep, and telling the truth may come at a devastating price.

  What Reviewers Say About Anne Laughlin’s Work

  A Date to Die

  [A]n entertaining mystery with a bit of sweet romance in the background. It’s got all the ingredients for an enjoyable read: mystery, plot twists and romance.”—Lez Review Books Blog

  The Acquittal—Lambda Literary Award Finalist

  “Laughlin’s other mysteries—Veritas, Sometimes Quickly, Runaway—have been stand-alones, but one hopes (I hope) that The Acquittal is the beginning of a Josie Harper series. Josie is a terrific character, written with verve and depth. She’s immensely likable and the issues she’s dealing with are presented forthrightly and sensitively without bogging down the mystery plot. With The Acquittal, Laughlin has added another strong mystery to her retinue as well as a fabulous new character I hope we see more of.”—Lambda Literary Review

  Runaway—Lambda Literary Award Finalist

  “Anne Laughlin is one of those authors that I just enjoy reading.”—C-Spot Reviews

  “[Runaway] is an easy read, with the story zig-zagging between Maddy and Jan. The second half of the book, working towards the final events in Idaho, keeps the pages turning. …Some of the word selection and observations are sublime.”—Lesbian Review

  Veritas

  “Veritas is a fun, well-paced and intriguing mystery with all the components readers of classic and competent cozies seeks. (It) is perfect reading for a cold winter night in front of the fire.”—Lambda Literary Review

  “Veritas by Anne Laughlin is, simply put, a good read. As an avid reader of romance and mystery novels, this book touched many chords within me. The characters are well drawn, even the supporting players. The story works both as a romance and a mystery. I found the intrigue interesting and thought provoking.”—Kissed by Venus

  “…Veritas is a quick read, but a fulfilling story. Laughlin’s prose is natural and engaging whether she’s writing about the politics of academia, Beth and Sally’s multilayered romance, or the intricacies of a murder mystery. Named a Lambda Literary Foundation Emerging Writer in 2008, Veritas proves Laughlin worthy of the honor.”—AfterEllen.com

  “Anne Laughlin has given her readers a great first novel. Set in a small Midwestern town on a college campus, Laughlin skillfully draws the characters of both the town and the college, without using stereotypes. Veritas is a great, page turner of a first novel.”—Just About Write

  Money Creek

  Brought to you by

  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.

  Money Creek

  © 2020 By Anne Laughlin. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-63555-796-1

  This Electronic Original Is Published By

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, NY 12185

  First Edition: September 2020

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editor: Cindy Cresap

  Production Design: Susan Ramundo

  Cover Design By Tammy Seidick

  eBook Design By Toni Whitaker

  By the Author

  Veritas

  Runaway

  Sometimes Quickly

  The Acquittal

  A Date to Die

  Money Creek

  Acknowledgments

  All writers need help and I’ve received plenty of it in writing Money Creek. First and foremost, I want to thank Amin Ahmad and Claudine Guertin-Ceric. The three of us formed a writing group that has been instrumental in the writing and editing of this book. They both give amazing feedback. Thank you to Carol Anshaw for being an early reader, along with Ann Farlee, Beth Brandt, Patricia Barber, Joan Larkin, and Linda Braasch for their feedback. Thanks also to homicide detective (retired) Jim Hennigan who, as always, answers the procedural questions I have. He’s very patient. Linda Braasch provided the love and support that got me through the writing of this novel. I say a thank you every day for her.

  Dedication

  To Chris, Liz, and Charlie

  My wonderful siblings

  Prologue

  On a wintry late Saturday afternoon, Clare Lehane found herself in the shabby living room of a shabby house hidden deep in the rural countryside. She sat on a wooden dining chair, chosen over the lumpy, soiled sofa that was pushed against a wall with peeling wallpaper. The hardwood floors were buckled and warped. She smelled mold.

  Henry stared at her from across the coffee table, his preppy-style clothing looking particularly out of place. Ray sat on the sofa, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Next to him was barrel-chested Bobby and his girlfriend, Caroline. Her midriff shirt showed off her belly ring. They’d all been making small talk for what seemed like forever.

  Clare wished they’d break out the drugs. A social gathering of drug dealers should involve the consumption of drugs. So far it was cheap beer and shots of tequila, and she was getting anxious for something else.

  Henry stood and put his phone in his back pocket. “I have to get going.” He turned to Ray. “I’ve got that thing.”

  Ray nodded.

  “I’ll go with you.” Clare rose quickly from her chair.

  “No, you’ll stay.” Ray stared at her. “We’re just getting started here.”

  “I want to go home.”

  Henry shifted his eyes from Clare to Ray and back again.

  “Clare, just relax and enjoy yourself.” She could tell he was anxious she not make a scene in front of his business partners. “I’m sorry I have to leave, but I have something I can’t get out of.” He gathered his coat and hat and left. The room fell silent and she sat down again.

  Bobby took his arm from Caroline’s shoulder and leaned forward.

  “We want to get to know you better, Clare. That’s all.”

  “Why do you want me here? Can’t I just buy some pills and leave?”

  Ray stubbed out his cigarette and pulled a joint from his shirt pocket. “You know it’s not that simple. You’re our customer, yes, but you’re also our lawyer.”

  “This is like a gangster movie. I never signed up to be consiglieri.” She was rigid with frustration. Ray ignored her and concentrated on his joint. She stood in disgust.

  “I’m going to the bathroo
m. Down there, right?”

  She strode down the hallway, passing tiny, dark bedrooms. She locked the bathroom door behind her and fished a packet of meth out of her jeans pocket, along with a rolled-up dollar bill. Meth was not her preferred drug, but it was all she had right now. She snorted a line and the rush cascaded through her body, a familiar feeling but still exciting. This time it fueled her anger. How could she break free of these people? She couldn’t see a way out. She glanced at the mirror and wiped some powder from her nose. Desperation soon replaced her anger. She didn’t want her life to be like this. Wasn’t sure how it’d gotten so bad.

  Just as she turned on the faucet to wash her hands, an explosion erupted. She fell to her knees and gripped the sides of her head. Two more explosions. Four more. Gunfire. She bit her lip to keep from screaming. The shooting continued. When it stopped she remained crumpled on the dirty tile floor.

  Am I next? What the hell is this?

  Heavy footsteps in the living room. She looked at the small window in the bathroom and saw it was low and wide enough for her to fit through.

  Then the sound of footsteps running toward the back of the house. She looked out the window. In a moment, a man rounded the rear corner and slowed to a walk. He wore one of those Euro-style vigilante masks with ghastly white skin and a terrifying grin. A gun hung loosely from his left hand, the same gun all the cops used on TV. Tall and lanky, he wore jeans and a camouflage jacket. Beneath the open jacket she saw a green Guns N’ Roses concert tee. The same shirt a law school classmate used to wear all the time, from the 2012 concert tour.

  The man walked away, kicking dead leaves. Soon she heard the sharp acceleration of a car on gravel. What the hell happened? Was there a way to leave the house without going back into the living room? She was afraid to see what was there. She had to get her phone. Leaving it behind was not an option.

  She opened the bathroom door and peered down the dark hall. She smelled something slightly metallic and paused. She stopped at the entrance to the room and her gut clenched.

  Bodies sprawled on the furniture, blood pooling beneath them. Ray slammed back in his chair, a bullet hole in his forehead and chest, Bobby sprawled across the coffee table, as if he’d stood to confront the gunman. Caroline draped over the end of the couch. Still alive. She made a low, strangled noise.

  Clare rushed to her. Blood streamed from Caroline’s stomach, where the bullet had torn into her. Caroline stared straight at her but there was no flicker of recognition, her eyes moving only slightly. Clare saw her phone on the coffee table. No choice: call an ambulance. Caroline might reveal Clare’s presence at the party and ruin her life, but at least she’d live and Clare would be able to live with herself.

  She moved Bobby’s arm to get to her phone. Caroline slumped forward suddenly, her eyes blank, no longer animated. Clare didn’t need to check her pulse: she was dead. She slipped her phone into her pocket and moved away from the body. The silence was eerie.

  She put her down coat and gloves on and wiped all her fingerprints from the bathroom doorknob, the sink, the toilet seat. What else had she touched? She wiped the front doorknob as she left the house.

  I’m leaving the scene of a crime.

  She drove to a Texaco station outside Money Creek and pulled up her hood before walking to the phone booth. The 911 dispatcher answered, and she lowered her voice in hopes of disguising it.

  “Please state your emergency.”

  Clare almost lost her nerve. “There’s been a murder. Three murders. Timson County, 15264 Lamont.”

  She hung up and walked back to her car. A family pulled up to the gas pumps, regular folks, two blond kids in the back, and she stared at them as if they were aliens. They occupied a world that was lost to her now. She would never unsee what she just saw, never stop worrying about being caught. All to save her job and reputation and the relationship she was just starting. She couldn’t hate herself more.

  Chapter One

  Six weeks earlier

  On Monday morning Clare’s phone woke her from a deep sleep. It was her boss, Carlton Henning, calling her at seven to tell her to get in the office on the double. Her stomach soured at the sound of his voice. She grabbed her pillbox from its hiding place beneath her couch and took two tablets of speed with her to the bathroom, washing them down with a glass of water. The thought of facing Henning without some pharmaceutical help was unimaginable. She put on her business suit and heels and left by seven thirty. She’d been in the office all weekend, trying to keep up with Henning’s assignments, which was like swimming against Category 4 rapids. It was all she could do not to drown. She was chattel, otherwise known as a first-year associate, and her hours ran from sixty to eighty a week. She was always desperately behind, no matter how much she worked. And for this she’d gone to three years of law school.

  She dropped off her briefcase and coat before walking to Henning’s corner office. The sound of him barreling down the adjacent hall was like a locomotive. He was a pudgy man, with dimpled fingers and a double chin. He was always out of breath but had the energy of an Olympic sprinter. He caught sight of her.

  “Well, it’s about fucking time,” he said as he passed into his office without stopping. Clare followed him in, the proverbial fly to his evil spider. “Lehane, I just got back from a meeting with Dave Novak where I was systematically fucked in the ass. He’s taken two associates from me on the Walker case. You’re not one of them, more’s the pity, so now I have to rely on you to do twice the work.” He stood behind his massive desk, his crisp white oxford shirt straining at the belly.

  She was horrified. “I don’t think it’s physically possible. I already work seven days a week.”

  “I don’t like complainers. Deal with it or I’ll have you transferred to bankruptcy.”

  From what she’d heard, the bankruptcy department was a killing field, headed by a partner even nastier than Henning. At least in litigation she occasionally got into the courtroom and traveled on document productions.

  “I’ll give it my best.” She tried to sound determined and slightly enthusiastic, but her acting skills fell short of the mark. Her head ached from a mild hangover.

  He sat. “What are you working on now?”

  “I’ve got five assignments on my desk, working on them as prioritized. I have to get that motion for extension of time done and also the memo on the new statute of limitations argument.”

  “Be sure you do the memo. I need it for the hearing on Monday. But before you get to either of those, I’m giving you a top priority, must be done today upon pain of death assignment.” Her heart sank. “I want you to create a chart of the actual damages of the five named plaintiffs in the Walker case. Medical bills, lost time from work, you know what to do. Meet me back here by the end of the day.”

  She fought the desire to tell him she quit. She could almost feel the breeze in her hair as she escaped the building into liberty. But now wasn’t the time financially. Her savings were nonexistent, and her money seemed to go primarily to drugs. Her job was less than secure—she’d been written up two months earlier for failing to make a court date after sleeping through her alarm clock. Too much speed had kept her up all night. It was a costly mistake, one she was still embarrassed by.

  As she walked back to her office, she saw Alice Parker coming toward her down the hallway. She was a veteran paralegal, competent as hell, and as no-nonsense as they come. How she managed her life with being a single mother and working as many hours as Clare, she’d never know. Clare had a brainstorm and stopped as Alice grew near.

  “Alice, how are you?” She smiled as warmly as she could.

  Alice stopped because she was unfailingly polite, but her face said she wanted to get to where she was going. “Going crazy with the Walker case.”

  “Glad you mentioned Walker because I have an assignment for you.”

  She looked alarmed. “I can’t handle another assignment. You’ll have to find someone else.”

  “
Sorry. You’re the one. Henning just gave me the project and said to find the best paralegal to work on it. That’s you.”

  Flattery wasn’t melting the ice on Alice’s face. “What is it?”

  Clare detailed the project and tried to make it sound as easy as possible. “There’s no getting around it. We have to have it done today.”

  “Christ.” Alice was starting to look resigned. “I don’t suppose I can talk to Henning about it?”

  “I wouldn’t go near him if I were you. He’s in one of his moods,” Clare said, keeping it friendly.

  Alice sighed. “I’ll do my best.”

  She returned to her office to get started on her memo, plowing her way through her research, her focus sharp, her thinking clear, her hangover forgotten. She almost didn’t mind working. Moments like this, when she felt extraordinarily smart and productive, she was reminded of why she got into law in the first place. She’d been a political science major in preparation for law school, taking her altruistic goal of “helping people” into her first year at Northwestern. Now she was in a firm that represented the corporate bad guys. They paid a ridiculously high salary in return for the vast majority of her waking hours. She had no social life. Golden handcuffs, she’d heard it called.

  At five, she walked down the hall to check on Alice’s progress on the medical bill chart but didn’t find her in her office. She went to her large document room and found it empty. Nor did she see documents on the table that would indicate the chart was being worked on. She called reception and had Alice paged. Two minutes later, she called back.