AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My instincts—and the evidence—said Monroe wasn’t cheating. Maybe I was wrong. But what I really wanted to know is why Monroe didn’t tell his wife about what happened today.
Something didn’t add up.
Monday
Fourteen
Margo Angelhart
Fifty years ago, my grandparents, Hector and Margaret Morales, inherited a beautiful two-story Spanish colonial mansion in downtown Phoenix walking distance from St. Mary’s Basilica and Chase Field. Built in 1907, five years before Arizona became a state, it had first been a residence, then a seminary, orphanage, and school. When Pop and Abuela took it over, it had been boarded up and in disrepair. They converted it to offices, and now half the building was Arizona Legal Services run by my Aunt Rita, and the other half was Angelhart Investigations.
I sat in my Jeep drinking iced coffee from my Yeti, staring at the back door of the historic building, working up the courage to enter.
I hated feeling liked I was about to be punished. Or humiliated. I didn’t know why I was so nervous.
Family was complicated.
Even now, after everything that happened, I loved my family.
But being here, in front of the Angelhart offices that I’d been so excited to help create but was forced to walk away from, hurt.
Damn, it hurt.
I almost drove away.
Almost.
Angelharts didn’t shirk our duties, didn’t say no when we could say yes. My parents had instilled in all five of us kids a deep sense of family first—but also the value of community, service, standing up for what was right over what was popular or expedient. It didn’t always make friends, but my dad was my role model. He’d lived his life by the principle of loving God and loving your neighbors.
Which is why when he lied and confessed to murder, I couldn’t accept it. It wasn’t him, wasn’t my family, wasn’t how I was raised. I couldn’t back down, but every wall that could be erected blocked me, and the few pieces I had put together led nowhere.
Dammit.
Now or never.
I got out of my Jeep and went inside.
Jack was the only one there, and I was grateful.
“Hey.”
“I got donuts,” he said, motioning to a box on the table in the conference room. “Want coffee?”
“I have some.” I held up my Army green Yeti.
He grimaced. Jack hated iced coffee. I lived on it.
I looked over the donuts. “Oh, these are Original Rainbow Donuts.”
“Yep.”
My favorite donut place, a small family business that closed whenever they ran out of donuts, which was almost always earlier than their posted hours every day. Had Jack picked them up just for me? A bribe or just being a good brother? I almost couldn’t pick, but finally grabbed a crème-filled maple bar with bacon sprinkles. Took a bite. Moaned.
“Heavenly,” I muttered.
Mom walked across the office and said, “Give me five minutes.” She went into her office and I tried not to squirm. I had nothing to feel guilty about. But old habits die hard.
Jack, to his credit, didn’t say anything. It wasn’t like I didn’t hang with my brother—six weeks ago Jack, his son Austin, Nico and I went to the opening day home game at Chase Field. D-backs beat the Dodgers, fun was had by all.
