The Extinguished Guest (A Lexie Starr Mystery, Book 2) by Jeanne Glidewell Page B

check is written off your account on the first of each
     month in the amount of fifteen hundred dollars. The money doesn't appear to go toward
     a stock purchase or a deposit into a money market or mutual fund account. Were you
     a client of D&P Enterprises?"
    "Um, well, no. Not exactly a client."
    "Then why—"
    "It's just, um, more of a matter of... well, let's put it this way. I'd be classified
     as more of a victim of D&P Enterprises than a client," Harry said softly. He cleared
     his throat and continued in a barely-audible whisper. "Listen, Lexie, can this be
     just between you and me? Alma would have a fit if she knew I told anyone about the
     blackmailing. For some reason, I feel like I can trust you."
    "Blackmailing? Of course, Harry. I won't repeat what you say to anyone." Except for
     Stone, and possibly the entire team of homicide investigators, I thought, as I whispered
     back in response. "And I'm glad you feel you can trust me."
    "Horatio has been blackmailing me for years, Lexie. He... he... uh—oh, this is so
     embarrassing. It was such a silly thing, really. Please keep this to yourself. Telling
     you about it is humiliating enough as it is."
    "Go on, I won't spread it around. I promise you, Harry," I said, offering encouragement.
     Telling Stone, my boyfriend and co-conspirator, wasn't exactly spreading it around,
     was it? Oh yes, and possibly the team of homicide investigators, of course.
    "All right, here goes," Harry said, lowering his head and refusing to look at me as
     he spoke. "About ten years ago, Horatio, who was an investor like myself, except on
     a grander scale, was attending the same antiques auction as I was. The auction was
     an estate sale in Jefferson City. We were both involved in a silent bid on a spectacular
     Salvador Dali original. I have a respectable art collection, although it's not nearly
     as impressive as Horatio's. Anyway, he'd booked a room at the hotel where I was staying.
     The night before the auction he burst into my room, uninvited, and caught me dressed
     up in a pair of pantyhose and one of Alma's frilly negligees. To this day, I don't
     know what possessed me to put those clothes on, but Horatio caught me completely off
     guard. Before I knew it, he had pulled one of those small, instamatic cameras from
     his pocket, snapped a photo of me, and departed. I merely tried the stuff on as a
     lark, you understand."
    "Uh-huh, I see." I hoped I didn't look as astonished as I felt. Trying to visualize
     Harry Turner in panty hose and a frilly negligee was like trying to picture Mother
     Teresa in a thong bikini. Harry Turner was a very masculine-looking gentleman. Handsome
     and debonair, he had a Cary Grant aura. In many ways he'd initially reminded me of
     my own father, with his muscular build, dark hair and easygoing personality. He didn't
     remind me of my father anymore, however. My father would stick his arm down his own
     throat and rip out his heart before he'd don a woman's negligee and panty hose. There
     wasn't enough money stockpiled in all of Kansas City's casinos' vaults to entice him
     to sacrifice his manhood on a lark such as Mr. Turner just described. I knew I wasn't
     faring well in my attempt to mask my revulsion.
    "Trust me, Lexie, it wasn't something I made a habit of doing. But I'd had a few drinks
     and was feeling kind of loopy and restless. Alma was at a ladies luncheon, and I'd
     picked her clothes up off the top of her suitcase to put them away. And, well, what
     can I say? I was bored, I guess. It was a bad decision, and I've regretted it every
     day of my life since. I certainly hope this doesn't color your view of me in any way."
    That ship had sailed, I was afraid. I could never look at Harry in the same way again.
    "I understand, Harry." Yeah, of course I understood. The guy was a closet transvestite.
     What's not to understand? I thought.
    "So, I dropped out of the bidding, naturally, and left the auction," Harry continued.
     He wiped sweat