Let Auntie Dote

By J.B. Barrett

Part I of the Auntie Dote Chronicles
If there was one thing that moved Aurora Claren, it was death. The quicker, the better... except when it was her own mother who was dying. Family always made things complicated.
Like with Dusty, her thirteen-year-old nephew, the pudgy apple of her eye. In the two years since her last visit he had grown sullen and aloof. His mom thought it was precocious teenage angst, but his aunt suspected there was something more.
She was right. Her nephew was facing a decisive moment in his life and she was the only one who could help. But the past she had spent her whole life escaping was there waiting for her. So many harsh memories, loose ends, dodgy donuts... everyone deserved a second chance but not always a better outcome.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.B. Barrett
• Release date: Jul 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005709181

Book preview

Let Auntie Dote

Part I of the Auntie Dote Chronicles

© J.B. Barrett

2019

1

The frothing water bloomed crimson. She held on tight until the splashing subsided. A limp arm dropped from the side of the bathtub, fist plunking down against the linoleum. The straight razor went in the tub.

Standing back to appraise the scene, she glanced at her naked figure in the bathroom mirror. The lighting was unflattering, casting shadows of doubt around her curves, hinting at sag and wear. Had he noticed? Had he even had time to be disappointed?

In the bedroom she put her long silk gloves back on. They were thin and dainty. She had worn them all night as part of a slinky black outfit. He thought they were part of her femme fatale look, but he meant it figuratively. Bottom line was never trust the person with the gloves.

She dressed quickly and grabbed the notebook on the bedside table. Pausing for a moment to ponder, with her left hand she penned in crude letters a message she felt would have been in character with the subject in the bathtub.

Leaving the notebook open on the bed, she calmly made her way downstairs to the living room and switched the lights on. A box of chocolates sat on the table wrapped in a red floppy ribbon. He had bought them for her but was too impatient to taste them. All her marks seemed driven by the same disease, always in a hurry for the next rush… she opened the box, picked out a shiny bonbon and bit into it. Dark Belgian chocolate with mocha filling… at least he had gotten that much right.

Chewing slowly, she walked over to the French doors and stood looking out at the moon reflected in the placid pool. Security cameras on poles were set up in strategic locations to monitor the estate, but he had turned them off and sent away all the help early before she arrived in order to conceal their little rendezvous. Would not want the wife abroad to find out and all that. The last recorded surveillance footage was of him arriving a few hours ago, coming up the driveway alone in his flashy sports car, and that was exactly what they would find in the morning.

Her car was in the garage next to his, a reliable high-end German companion in many a late-night escapade. She put the candy on the passenger seat and peeled off the gloves as the engine purred to life and the gates opened. The dashboard clock read 1:31AM