Bubblegum Blonde Read Free Page A

you weren't sleeping with her." I raised one eyebrow. "If you weren't sleeping with Lydia, how did those things come to be in her bedroom, the bedroom where she was murdered, at all?"
    In my line of work someone didn't lose such personal items in a married woman's bedroom unless they were mattress-surfing with said woman. Which, knowing Jason, wasn't that unlikely.
    "I think I'm being framed. That's why I need your help."
    "Who would want to frame you for murder?" I asked. "You're an accountant. You said that you're not into any illegal dealings, so why would someone try to frame you for murder?"
    "I don't know. That's why I'm here."
     "Do you have an alibi for the time of the murder?" I tapped my bottom lip with my pen.
    "I was home alone." He shook his head. "I know it's weak, but surely one of the neighbors saw my car in the drive or something."
    "That's a long shot that won't stand up in court. Just because someone saw your car in the drive doesn't mean that you were home. That story won't fly with anyone."
    He ran his fingers through his hair. "I know it won't, but it's all I have. I was home the night she was killed. I swear."
    "Swear all you want, but that alibi won't hold up."
    I leaned back in my chair and tapped the end of my pen on the desk as I thought. This was a tricky situation. One that could land me in a huge heap of trouble if I didn't play my cards right. There was no way on Earth I was going to interfere with an ongoing murder investigation any further than I was legally allowed, but my curiosity was getting the best of me.
    "Jason, this is an ongoing murder investigation." I set the pen down and tapped the desk with my index finger, a habit I had when thinking. "I can only look into a case up to a certain point without stepping outside the bounds of legality."
    Which was the truth. While I could snoop around and ask questions, I had to do so without interfering with the investigation the police were conducting. I would have to walk a very thin line if I took this case.
    "I'm not asking you to interfere or do anything illegal," he said quickly. "I'm asking you to conduct your own investigation."
    "Which is exactly what I just said." I rolled my eyes. "But tell me something, Jason. Why should I help you?" I asked. "I can't think of a single solitary thing that you've ever been honest with me about." I flopped back in my cushy chair. "Why should I believe that you're innocent?"
    "Because I am," he said.
    I narrowed my eyes at him. As much as I disliked Jason, I had a hard time believing he was capable of murder. He just didn't have it in him.
    "You're asking me to delve into a murder. A high-profile murder that the cops are currently investigating. I can do it, but you have to understand that this is a tricky situation for me and my girls. One wrong move, one step over the line, and we could be in trouble right alongside you, and in case you're unaware, prison orange is not my color. Do you see where I'm going with this?"
    While I really wasn't afraid of getting thrown in jail, I was concerned about what exactly I could do to help him. I usually dealt with cheaters, liars, and the occasional thief. Murderers were a whole new crop of crazy that I had little experience with.
    "Please, Barb," he begged. "I need help with this, and you're the only one I can trust right now. I didn't kill Lydia Hatchett. You have to help me. I'm desperate."
    Good gravy, if there was one thing I couldn't stand, it was the sight of a man begging. Despite his cheating, Jason was a good man. (Well, he had been at one time.) He was honest. (Somewhat. That was still kind of a sketchy area with the cheating and all.) But despite my personal feelings about him, I had a gut feeling that he was actually innocent. If there was one thing I'd learned in my thirty years of life, it was to trust my gut.
    I knew taking this case was a bad idea. I also knew that this was the case that could either make me or break me because Hatchett was an