Dangerous Confessions: Serena Manchester Mysteries, #2

By Tyora Moody

The case from last month is still far from over for private investigator Serena "Rena" Manchester. Not just because she found herself in yet another life threatening situation, but because the fall-out still has not been dealt with by the authorities. Determined to see justice to the end, Rena steps up her investigation along with her young attractive associate.

During a surveillance job, Rena runs into a very unpleasant woman from her past life as a reporter. A few hours later, when the woman falls to her death from a beach condo balcony, Rena finds herself switching directions with her investigation. The more she digs into her past news story, the more she starts to see parallels to her current case. Her revelations are drawing her closer and closer to someone who's not happy about her relentless digging.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tymm Publishing LLC
• Release date: Mar 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201454593

Tyora Moody

Tyora Moody is the author of Soul-Searching Mysteries, which includes cozy mystery, women sleuth mystery, and mystery romance under the Christian Fiction genre. Her books include the Eugeena Patterson Mysteries, Joss Miller Mysteries, Serena Manchester Mysteries, and many more series.  When Tyora isn't working for a client or doing something literary, she enjoys reading, spending time with family, binge-watching crime shows, catching a movie on the big screen, and traveling.  To contact Tyora about book club discussions or for book marketing workshops, visit her online at TyoraMoody.com.

Book preview

Dangerous Confessions

Serena Manchester Mysteries, Book 2

Tyora Moody

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Tymm Publishing

Dangerous Confessions

Serena Manchester Mysteries, Book 2

Copyright © 2022 by Tyora Moody

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author. Bittersweet Motives is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published by:

Tymm Publishing LLC

www.tymmpublishing.com

Editing: Sherri Lewis

Cover Design: TywebbinCreations.com

Contents

1. Chapter One

2. Chapter Two

3. Chapter Three

4. Chapter Four

5. Chapter Five

6. Chapter Six

7. Chapter Seven

8. Chapter Eight

9. Chapter Nine

10. Chapter Ten

11. Chapter Eleven

12. Chapter Twelve

13. Chapter Thirteen

14. Chapter Fourteen

15. Chapter Fifteen

16. Chapter Sixteen

17. Chapter Seventeen

18. Chapter Eighteen

19. Chapter Nineteen

20. Chapter Twenty

21. Chapter Twenty-One

22. Chapter Twenty-Two

23. Chapter Twenty-Three

24. Chapter Twenty-Four

25. Chapter Twenty-Five

26. Chapter Twenty-Six

27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

30. Chapter Thirty

31. Chapter Thirty-One

32. Chapter Thirty-Two

33. Epilogue

About the Author

Also By Tyora Moody

Chapter One

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina

Friday, January 3, 9:43 pm

I was past ready for something to go down. Anything.

I gritted my teeth as my phone chirped for the third time in the last thirty minutes. Not what I had in mind. I didn’t even bother looking at the screen because I knew it was Trey Evans. A month ago, I’d selected the ringtone to single out his calls. Regret gripped me as I tried with all my might to focus on the task at hand. Surveillance work was my least favorite part of any investigation. The last thing I needed was for my sort of significant other to be working my last nerve.

We’d argued before I left town this morning. My long-time friend and current love interest claimed he supported me. But it was becoming obvious to me that my choice of profession as a private investigator got under his skin. He was a minister with a very prominent standing in our community. My cases often brought eyebrow raising, deep sighing and extended lectures on how I endangered my life.

I sighed deeply and lifted the glass of soda water to my lips. I really should have asked for coffee. The bar wasn’t that far from the lobby. Tonight, the wind whipped off the ocean outside, sending an icy breeze every once in a while when the lobby doors slid open. I’d been sitting at the bar for about forty minutes now, thinking for the tenth time that Trey may have been right. Maybe I shouldn’t have made the trip. Tonight was looking like a failed mission.

On top of that, I was losing a significant chunk of change from my checking account. The Grand Ocean Resort was one of the more luxurious hotels in Myrtle Beach. The resort offered special amenities like a full spa treatment. If this all went south, at least I’d sat in a hot tub or had a massage, which I hadn’t done in years.

My tense muscles were begging for relief as I turned my attention to the lobby again. Last week, I had conversations with the bartender and the waitress currently on the shift. Both told me what I needed to know about a regular patron who I was hoping to spot tonight. This week, there was a realtor’s conference going on and I was hoping I’d catch a glimpse of a certain real estate broker earlier. 

I’d seen several groups of men dressed in business attire, even at this late hour, but they weren’t who I was looking for.  So, I continued to wait. My phone’s screen lit up with a different ringtone. This time I answered it. 

 Do you think this little get together is still happening?

Amir Wright’s technical prowess had put my mind at ease, and I wouldn’t have ever considered tonight’s stakeout without his assistance. Something that Trey didn’t like either. Trey’s attitude turned cool whenever I mentioned working with my much younger associate. In fact, I’m sure that’s what sparked his insistence that I not be here at the beach.

I turned away from a trio of young women who’d appeared at the bar. They were dressed for a night out on the town, all adorned with black dresses and stilettos. I spoke softly into the phone. I’m wondering the same. I haven’t seen our main candidate yet.

Amir countered, Didn’t both the bartender and the waitress mention first Fridays of the month? Maybe he decided on a new location.

The group of women’s chatter was too much in my ear, so I walked away from the bar, and headed towards the lobby. I hope not, but it’s almost ten o’clock. You think you can make it another hour?

Hey, I’m all in with you.

On our first case together only a few months ago, Amir had been shot, on Black Friday of all days. While he was back in the swing of things, I knew sitting around in a hotel room with the surveillance equipment was probably not good for his body. Then again, the man owned a cybersecurity company. He was in his element, and I knew he wouldn’t have it any other way.

I scolded softly, You really shouldn’t be doing this. Let’s wrap this up so you can get some rest. Plus, you know this old lady can’t hang too long.

Amir chuckled. Past your bedtime, huh?

Not really. I’m definitely disappointed though. Look, I’ll check in with you in a few. I’m going to take a stroll. 

Ending the call, I glanced around again. I did my homework and prepared for this night for weeks, even through the holidays. It didn’t help that I was feeling slightly guilty about my argument with Trey. I really needed to return to my room and call him back. Never let the sun go down on your anger. That was something we both agreed to do.

The hotel was buzzing with activity, people arriving bedraggled from traveling or heading out for the local nightlife. I looked up to see a woman dressed in a fuchsia pantsuit walking in my direction. Our eyes connected and I immediately had the sense I’d seen her before. She was tall, thin like a supermodel, except this woman wasn’t a young thing. Her bobbed hair was almost a white blonde. She’d loosened her orange scarf so that it hung down, exposing a scrawny neck.

When she looked at me, recognition reflected in her eyes. I heard an audible gasp from her and was surprised to see her stop in the middle of the lobby. Curious about who she was and how she knew me, I paused mid-stride and faced her.

Serena Manchester? She spoke with a European accent mingled with a southern drawl.

I raised an eyebrow, because it was when she spoke that the cobwebs in my mind started to glide away. I knew this woman a long time ago, back during my crime reporting days in Charlotte. She was a major part of one of my most popular stories. Her appearance had been altered. I remember longer, dark hair and her face had been fuller. Time had aged the woman who was slightly older than me.

Dina? Dina Huffman?

Dina’s smile wasn’t warm and inviting, more like the kind you gave your worst enemy. Her gesture was meant to be polite, but she was not happy to see me. You remember me? I look different now. 

I guess you had to make some adjustments after the trial. Dina was accused of killing her husband, Brent Huffman, five years ago. I was convinced that she did it. She had the means and access. Have you been here in Myrtle Beach all this time?

Her eyes shifted behind me. I’ve been to a lot of places, but I do have a beach home nearby.

Must be nice. Sounds like you’ve moved on pretty well. 

Her eyes flashed as if she read my mind. I know what you’re thinking. I want to remind you that I was acquitted. I have the right to live my life.

I couldn’t wipe the smirk off my face. Of course. I sat in the courtroom every day covering the trial. I’m well aware of how your super slick defense attorney twisted the prosecution case for the jury.

Dina’s lips thinned. He did his job. I’m sorry you’re still disappointed that an innocent woman wasn’t put in jail. I guess it’s because you were also the one to break the story about Brent. You had a vested interest in putting him away. Seems like you would have been pleased that no time was wasted in court on him and no taxpayers’ money had to be spent on his jail time.

His death was convenient. I’d been following your husband for over a year. Brent was quite the character. If I remember, money laundering was his thing along with a heroin addiction that everyone knew about.

Dina’s eyes were cold. I had nothing to do with his business dealings. I don’t miss him. He wasn’t a good husband. But I didn’t kill him. Her eyes shifted behind me again as though she was watching for someone. I’m sorry he died the way he did.

Heroin laced with fentanyl overdose. The autopsy had revealed a prick in the neck. Murder.

As I recalled this tidbit of information, I narrowed my eyes. I’d never been convinced of this woman’s innocence. She’d clearly hated the man, only staying for the comforts of his wealth. So, are you still claiming to know nothing about his overdose? You lived with him. You had to know his supplier or if someone was out to get him.

I told you I didn’t kill him. Her eyes flickered on my face. But I have my suspicions.

That caught me off guard. Did you ever share your suspicions with the police? None of this came out at your trial.

No. She shook her head and dropped her voice, I didn’t find out until much later. But soon, people like you will stop doubting me and that time in my life will truly be behind me.

I started to ask her about this new information she’d found out, when I noticed Dina’s face. She openly eyed something or someone behind me. Her nervousness rubbed off on me. In an effort to see who or what had caught her attention, I turned my head. A group of suited men walked into the lobby. Three, young beautiful women trailed behind them. To my surprise, they were the same women who were sitting at the bar a few minutes ago. 

Oh no, these girls were the escorts.

I watched as the tallest one, a leggy blonde, broke away from the group, heading straight towards one of the men. At first glance, she reminded me of a much younger version of Dina. The man, with silver tinged hair around the sides, held out his arms as she reached for him. A smile stretched across his face, dazzling me from across the room. I watched as the young woman hooked her arms around his waist and whispered in his ear. She leaned back and stared intently into his face, as if he was the only person in the lobby. 

This man happened to be the one I was looking for tonight. My skin prickled as thoughts of my last case loomed. A young woman had been murdered. As I studied her life, I’d found some unsavory elements that led me here tonight. I was pretty sure the man that arrived was in the center of my investigation.

Dylan Jenkins.

I remembered Dina was next to me and glanced at her. Dina had been staring at the couple too, her stance stiff, as she clutched her large, designer purse in front of her.

Before I could ask her anything, Dina spoke, her words rushed. It was good to see you again, Ms. Manchester. I have to go. She took off behind the group of men, Dylan in the lead, all heading towards the lobby elevators.

I quickly dialed Amir. Dylan Jenkins has arrived. I’m going to follow.

Amir responded, his stressed tone reminding me of Trey’s earnest pleas earlier. Follow? Rena, stick to the plan.

Stick to the plan.

What if the plan needed to change?

My instincts shouted about running into Dina Huffman. She may have been acquitted of her husband’s murder, but Dina was no saint. And it was clear to me that Dylan’s arrival had raised her anxiety levels. As I headed towards the elevators, my heart raced with anticipation.

Chapter Two

Friday, January 3, 10:00 pm

Amir’s words sliced into me.

Stick to the plan.

I scanned the faces of the people boarding the elevator. I counted four men displaying boyish grins that seemed unnatural on their mature faces. One of them gave off grandfather vibes—his age could have ranged into the seventies. The one who currently had the leggy blonde’s arm intertwined with his arm fit the definition of a silver fox. Dylan’s chiseled features reminded me of a male model on the cover of GQ. The hot shot real estate broker had drawn my interest, but it wasn’t for his looks.

The blonde had slipped into her role with ease, but the other two young women who’d been chattering near me at the bar appeared subdued, like they were trying hard to play grown-up. I didn’t have children, but my maternal instincts rose up as I tried to gauge the ages behind the heavily made up faces.

And what did Dina have to do with this group?

She stood front center of the group, her eyes focused on me as if she dared me to join them on the elevator. Wait, no that’s not right. There was fear in her eyes like a child about to be reprimanded.

Are you getting on? A deep voice tinged with irritation boomed from inside the elevator. I turned to see who was speaking. The impatience on Dylan’s face didn’t mar his looks one bit. So caught up in my observations, I hadn’t realized he had been holding the elevator for me. 

I shook my head and stepped back. I could almost hear Trey in my ear. 

Rena, you have to think about your safety.

I pointed my thumb to my left. This one looks pretty full. I’ll catch the next elevator.

Before the doors closed, I met Dina’s eyes again. She had a deer in headlights look as the elevator doors shut.  Dina had been married to a predator years ago. From what I remembered from my coverage of her trial, her husband was considerably older than her. Dina came from a town in Poland and her journey wasn’t voluntary. 

To this day, I didn’t know why her lawyer at the time gave her permission to do an exclusive interview with me. I’d been a fair reporter, sticking to the facts. It was one of the last great interview segments of my former career. Dina claimed to have been duped that she was going to be an actor in a movie—her childhood dream. Instead of a movie audition, she was taken from her village home and months later transported to the United States. Her early abusive years were a part of her defense.

Did she have anything to do with the escorts? Surely she wouldn’t put other young women through her same ordeal.

The lobby seemed eerily quiet all of a sudden as I lifted my head to observe the numbers above the elevator. I knew where they were going, which is why I didn’t board the elevator. There was no way I was getting inside the penthouse for the private party.  I returned my phone to my ear. Amir?

Amir answered breathless, like he’d been throwing a fit. Yeah, Rena. What were you thinking? They’re not supposed to see you.

I grimaced. Sorry, I ran into someone from my past and it made me lose my head for a minute. I think she’s involved. Look, I’m heading up on the next elevator.

I reached over and pressed the up button. I glanced up at the second elevator and noticed it was on the seventh floor.

My floor.

That shouldn’t have been a big deal, but I studied the numbers, waiting to see the elevator move. It wasn’t descending.

Amir griped, Good. For a minute there, I thought you were planning to join the party.

I thought about it, but thankfully I came to my senses.

Uh, yeah! See you soon. I’m starting a pot of coffee. This is going to be a long night.

That young man didn’t know how grateful I was to hear coffee would be awaiting me. I’d grown really fond of him and I knew working on this case was his way of dealing with his grief. It was unfortunate we met because of the death of Samantha Livingston, a young social media celebrity. Known as just Sam, she’d been like a little sister to Amir. Both of them grew up in the same foster home.

The twenty-year-old social media darling still had fans posting on her pages. Someone had taken over the accounts and was posting good memories of Sam. I suspected it was Amir because he’d been able to access her accounts, but I stayed away from those emotional conversations with him.

An elevator pinged. To my surprise, it was the same one that had just gone up to the penthouse. I looked over at the other elevator, wondering why that one hadn’t moved yet. The elevator I’d refused to enter minutes ago now stood empty. The various mixtures of cologne and perfume that just rode up to the penthouse engulfed me as I entered the elevator. I glanced at a special panel for the penthouse. A code was required. There was no way I could get into the penthouse, but I wasn’t worried. Amir had a way for us to access the conversations. 

I pressed the seven button. As the elevator doors closed, my breath sped up. I don’t know why, but I felt like something was going to happen tonight. I’d never imagined my investigation from a few months ago would lead me down this sordid path. 

With Samantha’s death as a common thread, Amir and I partnered to find her killer. Amir gained network access to one of the suspects in Sam’s murder, a local businessman, Edwin Peters. Within Edwin’s cloud storage, we stumbled on how Sam, a local beautician, acquired her extra cash flow. 

She’d been secretly working as an escort, with Edwin taking full advantage. The files Amir retrieved from Edwin’s computer answered a lot of questions, but also left a lot of unanswered ones too. We’d sent most of those documents to the Georgetown solicitor’s office, but nothing seemed to be happening. 

When I’d inquired with one of my contacts at the police department, they’d been told the main priority was prosecuting Sam’s killer. Knowing there was more to uncover,