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    Our Little Secret
    Our Little Secret
    Our Little Secret
    Ebook250 pages2 hours

    Our Little Secret

    By John Locke

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    About this ebook

    You’re Maddie Conover, and you were home last week, but your husband, Seth, reported you missing. The police find blood evidence of foul play, and are convinced Seth murdered you, but it all turns out to be a misunderstanding until your bank confirms you wired your life’s savings to a vulgar old man you’ve never met. You confront the old man and are shocked to learn he has videos that prove you were involved in a deeply sexual relationship with him last week. But you’re about to realize these are the least of your problems!

    PRELIMINARY REVIEWS:

    “As an author, I find myself asking the same question Locke’s fans always ask: where does he come up with this stuff?”

    “While Our Little Secret represents a departure from most of Locke’s other novels, it is just as addictive and compelling. I finished it in one sitting!”

    “In today’s literary world where so many authors trot out the same tired plot lines year after year, it’s refreshing to see John Locke continuing to craft highly original stories. Our Little Secret will keep you guessing from start to finish.”

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJohn Locke
    Release dateSep 5, 2017
    ISBN9781937656157
    Our Little Secret
    Author

    John Locke

    John Locke kommt 1632 im englischen Wrington zur Welt. Nach dem Besuch der Westminster School in London studiert Locke bis 1658 in Oxford. Zwischen 1660 und 1664 lehrt er dort Philosophie, Rhetorik und alte Sprachen. Sein enzyklopädisches Wissen und seine Studien in Erkenntnistheorie, Naturwissenschaften und Medizin bringen ihm früh die Mitgliedschaft in der Royal Society ein. Als Sekretär und Leibarzt des Earl of Shaftesbury ist Locke in Folge der politischen Machtkämpfe in England gezwungen, ins holländische Exil zu fliehen. Erst 1689 kehrt er nach England zurück und widmet sich auf seinem Landgut seinen Studien. Im selben Jahr erscheint anonym Ein Brief über Toleranz, der die ausschließliche Aufgabe des Staates im Schutz von Leben, Besitz und Freiheit seiner Bürger bestimmt. Die hier formulierten Ideen finden in der amerikanischen Unabhängigkeitserklärung ihren politischen Widerhall. Lockes Hauptwerk, der Versuch über den menschlichen Verstand, erscheint erst 1690 vollständig, wird aber vermutlich bereit 20 Jahre früher begonnen. Es begründet die Erkenntnistheorie als neuzeitliche Form des Philosophierens, die besonders in der französischen Aufklärung nachwirkt. Locke lehnt darin Descartes' Vorstellung von den eingeborenen Ideen ab und vertritt einen konsequenten Empirismus. Aus der theoretischen Einsicht in die Begrenztheit der Erkenntnisfähigkeit ergibt sich für Locke die Forderung, daß sich weder ein Staatssouverän noch eine Glaubensgemeinschaft im Besitz der allein gültigen Wahrheit wähnen darf. Der mündige Bürger, der in der Lage ist, kritisch selbst zu entscheiden, wird konsequenterweise zum pädagogischen Ziel Lockes. John Locke stirbt 1704 als europäische Berühmtheit auf seinem Landsitz in Oates.

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      Book preview

      Our Little Secret - John Locke

      I STARE AT people longer than you do. Long enough to make them uncomfortable, if they happen to notice.

      But they usually don’t.

      People typically greet me, exchange a few pleasantries, then turn their focus to the next person that comes along.

      But I continue to stare. Not because I’m clueless to the boundaries of socially appropriate behavior, but because I’ve learned there’s a wealth of information to be discovered in the moments after people break eye contact: An eye-roll. A sigh of relief the conversation wasn’t longer. A knowing glance exchanged with a like-minded friend.

      On Monday, my wife Maddie and I attended a Memorial Day party thrown by our wealthy neighbors, Kyle and Gwen Roundtree. Although Maddie and I were but two of the hundred guests, I noticed Kyle hugged Maddie a full two seconds longer than he hugged the other wives. Gwen noticed it too, and stiffened. But she didn’t see Kyle pointing Maddie out to his friend minutes later, nor the friend’s sneer, nor the way Kyle’s eyes studied Maddie’s form as she stood by the pool. Nor did she notice Maddie watching Kyle throughout the afternoon as he interacted with their guests.

      But I did, I noticed it all. And that’s how I came to realize Kyle Roundtree was either trying to seduce my wife, or already has.

      Two hours after the party, I flew to Chicago on business. Though I travel frequently, I make it a point to call Maddie every day while I’m away. But this time I wanted to see if she would initiate the contact.

      Sadly, she didn’t.

      Now it’s Friday night, and I’m back in town. After retrieving my car from airport parking, I drive straight home, turn into our driveway, and park in the garage next to Maddie’s Lexus. I enter the house, call her name, but get no response. I search each room, then try her cell phone, but she doesn’t answer. With growing concern, I check the laundry hamper in her closet, then rush back to the kitchen, where I see three bananas on the banana hook and immediately call the police.

      2.

      THE PROBLEM I’M having with Police Detective Oberman: how to explain the bananas and dirty clothes prove my wife’s been missing for three days.

      Any evidence of a break-in? he asks.

      No.

      Any blood or other evidence of foul play?

      No.

      I continue answering No as he asks, Is your wife mentally impaired? Does she take any prescription medications that could make her confused from time to time? Has she ever gone missing in the past, even for a day?

      But when he asks: Have you contacted everyone you can think of? I ask, What do you mean?

      Maddie’s friends and relatives.

      No.

      Why not?

      I just got home, Detective. Her car’s in the garage. If she were visiting someone, she would have driven there.

      Maybe a friend gave her a ride. They could be at the movies, or having dinner, or engaging in any number of non-sinister activities.

      "For three days?"

      Detective Oberman sighs. Are we back to the bananas again?

      I explain for the third time that Maddie’s a creature of habit who has the same breakfast every morning: a banana, a toasted English muffin with honey, and a cup of green tea. She buys bananas five at a time on Sundays and places plastic wrap around the stems to retard the ripening process.

      Does that work?

      I stare at my phone in disbelief before responding, Yes. Bananas emit ethylene gas that prematurely ripens the fruit. The plastic keeps them yellow twice as long. My point is Maddie bought five bananas on Sunday. I was here on Monday when she ate the first one. There are three left.

      And that tells you what, exactly?

      She wasn’t here to eat breakfast on Wednesday, Thursday, or today. And there were only two days of clothes in the laundry hamper: Monday’s, and the clothes she wore on Tuesday.

      You don’t sound too upset, he says.

      Excuse me?

      If I thought my wife had been missing for three days I’d be frantic.

      "You spent fifteen minutes telling me not to be overly concerned, now you say I should be frantic. For the record, I am, which is why I called you instead of her friends and relatives. How long do I have to wait before filing a missing person’s report?"

      Technically, you’re doing it now.

      I thought I had to wait 24 hours.

      Not in Kentucky. But you need to be aware in the absence of mental issues or foul play the working assumption for missing adults is they’re missing voluntarily and the police are under no obligation to initiate a search.

      "What?"

      "By law, any competent adult can choose to disappear at any time. That said, we are required to perform a preliminary investigation, so let’s continue: When’s the last time you spoke to Maddie?"

      The Q&A continues, and when he’s done he gives me his cell number and asks if he and his partner can stop by the house tomorrow morning to take a closer look.

      Of course. Thank you.

      "In the meantime, call Maddie’s friends and relatives and try not to worry. She probably decided to hang out with friends till you got back. I expect she’ll be home before midnight. If she does show up, please text me, regardless of the hour."

      I will. Thanks.

      3.

      AUTHOR/JOURNALIST MIGNON McLaughlin once said, A successful marriage requires falling in love many times, always with the same person.

      That sentiment perfectly describes my relationship with Maddie.

      Too bad it doesn’t describe her relationship with me.

      Don’t get me wrong: Maddie loves me, she’s just not in love with me, which helps explain why she’s a notorious flirt. As for actual affairs, I can only prove one, but it’s epic, ongoing, and has stood the test of time: six years and counting, with several breakups along the way.

      We don’t talk about it. She knows I know, but bringing it up again would only force her to lie, and I certainly don’t need further evidence of her ability to do so convincingly. Maddie’s a highly-skilled, prolific liar. And though I’ve become immune to her falsehoods over the years, I’ve learned that confronting her about them does nothing to improve our home life.

      Still no word? Detective Oberman asks.

      No.

      It’s 10:06 a.m. and Oberman and his partner, Detective Chance, are standing on my porch. I invite them in and lead them to our den. Oberman sits and asks questions while Detective Chance strolls around the room, looking at photos. At one point Chance looks at me and grins. You’re that guy on TV! he says. The Ice Cream Guy!

      We talk about that a few minutes, and how I own three gelato stores here in Louisville and two more across the river in Jeffersonville and New Albany, which prompts him to ask the same question I’ve answered every day since I got in the business: What’s the difference between ice cream and gelato?

      Gelato’s the Italian version of ice cream, except we use more milk, less cream, and few or no eggs. It’s churned much slower than ice cream, so it’s denser, with less air.

      So it’s a different product?

      Totally.

      Then why do they call you the Ice Cream Guy?

      They don’t.

      Yes, they do.

      Annoyed, I say, My wife is missing. Can we focus on her?

      Of course. You said Maddie works at home?

      Yes. She manages social media websites.

      Can you show us her work area?

      I lead them up the stairs to the small bedroom Maddie converted into a home office.

      Should I leave? I ask.

      You need to be somewhere?

      No. I just thought you might prefer to search through her things privately.

      They look at each other. Chance says, I’m convinced there’s nothing here to see.

      Oberman says, Can you show us the rest of the house?

      As we walk from one room to the next, they ask about our routines, and if we’ve had any marital issues. I tell them everyone has marital issues and they nod their heads in agreement. Detective Chance asks if either of us is seeing someone outside the marriage and I tell him we’re not, though he may have picked up on the fact that I hesitated before responding. They linger in the master bedroom and bath, paying special attention to the sheets, sinks, and shower, and when we get to Maddie’s closet Oberman stares at the carpet in front of Maddie’s dresser. Fixated on something, he drops to his knees and digs his fingers into the fibers and sniffs. Then he looks up at Detective Chance and says, Cuff him.

      4.

      AFTER PATTING ME down for weapons, the detectives put me in the back of their car, drive me to the station, sit me in a plastic chair by a steel table in a gunmetal gray interrogation room, and read me my rights. They ask permission to review my cell phone, but I decline. They remove my cuffs, leave the room, and return ninety minutes later.

      Oberman says, Tell me about the blood.

      What blood?

      On the floor, in Maddie’s closet.

      I have no idea what you’re talking about.

      Ever heard of luminol?

      No.

      It’s a chemical that glows in low-light situations when mixed with oxidizing agents.

      When I fail to respond he adds, it’s used by forensic investigators to detect blood at crime scenes.

      So?

      Our lab guy sprayed the carpet with luminol and documented the reaction with a long-exposure photograph. And this is what showed up.

      Chance hands me an eight-by-ten glossy and says, "To me, it looks like a bloodbath. What do you think?"

      I stare at the photo the same way I stare at people: for a long time. Then say, If someone hurt Maddie, why would they take the time to clean the carpet?

      I don’t know. But it sounds like something a husband might do.

      Except that I was in Chicago.

      According to your statement, Maddie hasn’t been seen since Monday night.

      "I haven’t seen her since then, but surely someone has. And let’s not forget Tuesday’s banana was eaten, so we know she was alive and well the morning after I left town."

      Seth?

      Yeah?

      "Technically, you could have killed Maddie on Monday afternoon and eaten her Tuesday banana yourself."

      Could I have worn her Tuesday clothes, as well?

      Detective Oberman rolls his eyes. Then says, Did you harm Maddie?

      No.

      Ever hit her, even in self-defense?

      No, of course not.

      Last night you gave me several names and numbers. One was Maddie’s sister, Angie. How would you describe your relationship with her?

      Wonderful. Noting the expression on Oberman’s face, I add, Though lately she’s been a little distant.

      Any idea why?

      I shake my head. I could be wrong about that. Far as I know, our relationship’s great.

      "Angie said you hit Maddie."

      "What?"

      On several occasions.

      "That’s a lie!"

      It is a lie. I’ve never struck Maddie. That said, unlike her sister, I’ve never known Angie to lie, and I sincerely doubt she’d lie to a police detective. So, why would she say I hit Maddie? Only one explanation comes to mind: Maddie—pathological liar that she is—must have told her that.

      Oberman changes the subject. What can you tell us about Michael Hart?

      My face falls. Here it comes. I take a deep breath. He used to work out with Maddie at the gym.

      Angie says you accused Maddie of having an affair with him.

      "That part’s true. I’m not sure if they’re currently involved, but their affair’s been going on for years."

      This morning you said there were no extramarital affairs.

      I was trying to protect Maddie’s reputation.

      Even though Mike’s a possible suspect?

      I shake my head. "Mike’s definitely not a suspect."

      Oberman raises an eyebrow. That’s an odd thing to say.

      He has no motive.

      What do you mean?

      He’s got the best of both worlds: a great job, gorgeous wife, kids who love him. And, he’s got the perfect mistress: Maddie’s beautiful, she keeps her mouth shut, makes no demands, and fucks him whenever he wants.

      "How do I sign up for that job?" Chance says.

      Noting my glare, Oberman says, Not that it matters, but Mike has a perfect alibi: he’s been out of town all week with his wife.

      There you go.

      "Let’s talk about your alibi, Seth."

      Let’s don’t. No offense, but I’ve been sitting here for two hours and we’re no closer to finding Maddie. I’d like to go home now.

      Just a few more questions.

      If you won’t let me leave, I want an attorney.

      Oberman didn’t see that coming. He starts to say something, then changes his mind. Through tightly-pressed lips, he says, "Fine. Call

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