Wednesday
I hit the snooze button a dozen times before dragging myself out of bed. Just as things were getting hot and heavy last night, Grant had called a halt to our activity. He had claimed some bull about not wanting to take advantage of me. I was so horny it had taken everything I had not to beg him for it, protecting what little pride I had left.
Half a pot of coffee later I made it to Lakeview Gym and began my daily torture session. Twenty minutes into my workout I had to call it quits, thanks to my liquid motivation. I hopped off the treadmill and pretended not to notice the snarky look of the woman next to me. Since I planned on returning to the gym, I didn’t give in to my juvenile urge to flip the bird. My mom would be so proud.
I rushed off to the bathroom. I was washing my hands when I heard the door open. Looking up in the mirror, I spotted Maria walking toward me, followed closely behind by her hangers on. It had been a whole twelve hours since someone had driven me crazy, so yeah, I guessed I was due.
Alone, I could take her. She’d fight dirty, but so could I. With her little posse eager to please her I’d be lucky to get out in one piece. There was only one exit and queen bitch stood between it and me. Ignoring her wouldn’t be an option. Picking a fight wasn’t one either. Plastering on my best fake smile, I turned toward her, eager to avoid a scene. “Maria, twice in one week, I can’t believe it.”
“Kim, what a surprise.” She looked me up and down. “I never would have expected to see you here.” Her clones giggled at their leader’s wit.
“Yes, it’s so much easier to work out regularly than to spend my vacation recovering from liposuction.” It was my turn to smirk while the trio gasped.
There was no way Maria would let me go without peeling a layer of skin off for my act of betrayal. Maria had shared with everyone unfortunate enough to be in her presence all about her vacation to the Caribbean, but she had let it slip to Brenna that she had really gone to California to get some work done—like a boob job and a butt lift. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop from laughing. It was my dumb luck Maria was quick to recover. The shocked expression on her face was replaced by a smile that revealed the bleached teeth in her mouth. This was going to be bad.
“Yes, you know how it is having a career and being a wife and mother. Not to mention all the charities I volunteer for. Oh, that’s right. You don’t know. You don’t have kids and, well, you’re divorced.”
Her cohorts smiled, providing her all the encouragement she needed. “It must be so difficult not being able to keep your man satisfied. How many women did he sleep with while he was married to you? Next time you might want to hurry up and get pregnant. Maybe that way you can hang on to him.” Maria turned to bask in the glow of her royal subjects.
“Yes, my ex did have a thing for bleach blonde sluts. Were you number twelve or thirteen?” I brushed past the trio of bitches, careful not to touch them.
I made it to the door, freedom was a mere step away, but I couldn’t resist one last dig. “Oh, by the way, your roots are showing.” I hurried out, but just before the door closed I heard her shout, “Bitch.”
No longer interested in working out I headed toward the parking lot. Jeez, this sucked. If she-bitch was a member, I would have to seriously consider changing gyms. I’d only been going to this one for a few months but I liked it, as much as I could like a place that contained evil machines that made you sweat and hate every moment you were there.
I’d never be able to focus knowing there was a possibility Maria was lurking somewhere. Maybe I could fix it so she got kicked out. I had no idea how I’d do it, but she had to go. I couldn’t afford to change gyms, but she could. It seemed fair to me.
Back home, I took a shower and got dressed in my standard work uniform of jeans and a t-shirt; today’s color choice was red. After drying my hair and adding some makeup, it was time to consider my breakfast options. A quick scan revealed my choices were nonexistent since someone, me, had forgotten to go grocery shopping. Well, it seemed I’d have to fit in a trip to the grocery store soon. Just great. Where was a fairy godmother when you really needed one? Huh, so much for fairy tales and happily ever after. For now, my stomach was empty and needed food. I grabbed my purse, got in my car, and headed straight for the nearest McDonald’s drive-thru.
Once inside my office, I sat at my desk and started in on my breakfast of an Egg McMuffin, a hash brown, and a large coffee. A couple of bites in, the front door opened and closed. Just great, a client showed up and I was stuffing my face. What a way to instill confidence. Before I could get up and welcome my visitor, Grant stomped into my office.
“What are you doing here? If you’re checking on my virtue, it’s a little late.”
“Why do you have a cell phone if you’re not going to answer it?” Grant asked, ignoring my witty repartee.
“What are you talking about?” I pulled my phone from my purse and looked at the screen. Naturally, the battery was deader than my niece’s goldfish, Bubbles. She was currently on Bubbles number four, or was it five? I’d lost count. Every time one went belly up, my sister would dispose of the body and run to the pet store for a new Bubbles.
“Kim, are you listening?”
“Sorry,” I muttered, tossing the useless phone into my purse. “What’s up?”
“Angie Davis. When was the last time you saw her?”
“What?”
“Answer the question,” he growled.
“The other night at The Spitting Parrot. Why?”
“What was she doing with your business card?”
“I gave her one. What’s the big deal?”
“Did you write on the back of it?”
“No. What’s going on?” I asked, nausea threatening to empty my stomach of what little I had eaten.
“Did you agree to meet her again?”
I remained silent. Whatever was going on was bad and I had to be very careful how I answered.
“Kim!”
“Okay, okay, jeez. Yeah, she couldn’t talk at work, so we agreed to meet yesterday for lunch. She was a no-show.”
“So then you went to her apartment looking for her?” he asked, though it was obvious he already knew the answer.
“Yeah, so?”
“Last night one of our patrols found her car behind the abandoned movie theater out on Route 48.”
I swallowed down the bile that threatened to escape. “Was…was she in it?”
“No. All we found were her keys in the ignition and your business card in the cup holder.” Grant leaned on the back of a chair, his face covered by his hands.
There was something he wasn’t telling me. Homicide didn’t investigate missing persons unless there was enough evidence to suggest the missing person was dead. I had to know what happened.
Grant stood back up and sighed. “Kim Murphy, where were you yesterday between two p.m. and eight p.m.?”
I gave him the rundown of my day from waiting at the restaurant for Angie up until he arrived at my place last night, omitting the part about Brandon’s involvement.
“Can anyone corroborate your whereabouts?”
I hesitated. Mentioning the waitress would send Grant running off to talk to her. While it was possible she’d remember me, she most certainly would remember I hadn’t been alone.
“I…don’t know. Sorry. So do you think Angie met up with someone and took off or what?”
“Leaving her keys in the car wasn’t smart.”
“Maybe she thought she’d be right back.”
“Not likely,” he muttered.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Grant ignored my question. “You might want to get an attorney.” He turned to leave.
I jumped up and ran around the desk, blocking his exit. “What the hell are you talking about? Why do I need a lawyer?”
“Kim, you know I can’t discuss an ongoing investigation with you.”
“Maybe you should have thought about that before you told me Angie was missi
ng.”
Grant grabbed my arms, his eyes narrowed, his face flushed. After all this time I should have known better than to anger him, but I could not seem to stop myself.
“You are so frustrating.”
“Looked in a mirror lately?”
My skin tingled under his grip. This was so not the time to notice his lips were mere inches from mine. Eyes that resembled storm clouds would so not appreciate where my thoughts had traveled. Realizing this was not a good idea, I stepped back and took a deep breath, hoping the distance would clear my head.
Grant shook his head as if to clear his own thoughts. “Stay away from this case. All your interfering is doing is causing more work for the professionals.”
“I am a professional,” I snapped.
“Yeah, one step up from a night guard at an empty lot.”
“Funny. Is that the best the big bad homicide detective can come up with?”
If this had been a cartoon, steam would have poured from Grant’s ears while his head whistled like a teapot. I would have giggled at the image but knew if I did, Grant would have me in handcuffs before I could move.
“Have you ever thought that maybe your meddling could be endangering peoples’ lives?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Maybe you’re asking people questions that are making the real killer nervous and he or she is getting rid of anyone who might know something.”
“Then I’m doing the right thing.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“No, are you?”
“You should be locked up! You’re not only a danger to yourself, you’re a danger to the public.”
“Screw you!”
“Not now, I’ve got work to do, but if you keep offering, I might just have to take you up on it.”
“Ugh, get out!”
“Gladly!” He stomped past me and slammed the door on his way out.
God, he could be so smug and arrogant. Then, other times, he could be sweet and funny a little voice in my head reminded. There really should be a mute button for that dang voice. I sat down at my desk and spotted my forgotten breakfast. Now cold. I tossed it in the trash. Desperate for caffeine, I took the cup into the kitchen and nuked the coffee in the microwave. As I waited for the ding, I wondered what could have happened to Angie. Jeez, I hoped she was okay. Was Grant right? Was my investigation causing more harm than good? I wasn’t sure, but I had to press on, not only for Lindsay, or me, but for Brian’s family. They deserved to know who killed him. The only way they would get closure was to see the person or persons responsible in jail. Though Ohio had the death penalty, it was rarely used. Being Catholic, I was supposed to be against it, but there were some monsters on Earth walking around as human beings that really did need to be exterminated.
Six months ago I had, in a sense, administered the death penalty when I had pulled the trigger. It was difficult knowing I had ended a life, no matter how much of an evil monster he was.
My large, loving family had surrounded me with love and support, almost smothering me with their kindness. It was my mom who had suggested I talk with Father Steve. I had balked at first, but eventually agreed, thanks to her pushing.
I hadn’t been to confession for some time—like, before I got married. I thought it would be a little weird. I was wrong. It was very freaking weird. I mean, I was admitting to killing someone. It didn’t matter that the guy kidnapped me and framed me for a murder he committed all before trying to kill me. There was this whole Thou Shalt Not Kill thing. That was pretty straight forward. There was no other way to interpret that.
After what seemed like forever for the both of us, Father Steve finally tried to convince me God loved me and had forgiven me. I still was not sure about that, but at least the half dozen times I’d attended Mass since then I hadn’t been struck down or heard God telling me to get out, so it seemed Father Steve knew what he was talking about. I guessed. I’d know for sure when it was my time. Not that I was in any rush, especially if the good Father was wrong. Eternity in a place that required an SPF of one billion didn’t really seem like my kind of place.
It took two cups of coffee before I had worked up the nerve to call Jackie. As usual she had the inside information and was willing to share—for a price. Today she was in an extremely good mood. She didn’t even attempt to blackmail me into babysitting duties or anything else. I filled her in on what little I knew before asking for details.
“Well, you already know almost everything, except that they found blood in the lady’s car.”
“Blood?”
“Yup, not a lot. So, if she bled out, it wasn’t in the car.”
“Oh God.”
“Sorry I don’t have better news.”
“Not your fault.”
“No, but sometimes it sucks being the messenger.”
I laughed. “It sure does, but I’m pretty fond of this messenger.”
“Thanks, back at ya. Oops, gotta go, my other line’s ringin’. See ya Saturday.”
I hoped Angie was okay. I felt responsible for her. If my questioning her had drawn the killer’s attention, I didn’t know how to live with that. Now I had to find a killer, but more importantly I had to find Angie, hopefully in one piece.
How the heck did I think I could do either of these things? So far all my efforts had turned up nothing but dead ends. That stupid voice in my head was back. Why the heck did it always sound like old Mr. Bicknell? He lived next door to us when I was growing up. He was a nice man, quick to smile, until his wife got sick. She died of cancer shortly after she was diagnosed. He died a year later from heart failure.
His adult sons, expecting to receive the bulk of their father’s estate, had been horrified to discover all they got was a hundred dollars each. When they found out their father left me a thousand dollars for taking in his trash cans each week, they became nasty. The rest of Mr. Bicknell’s estate, approximately two hundred thousand dollars, went to cancer research in memory of his late wife. According to my parents, the sons spent thousands of dollars they didn’t have on lawyers and lost. Mr. Bicknell would have been happy.
I had a couple of hours before my meeting with Brian’s parole officer so it was as good a time as any to get a new tire. There was a place down the street that was fast and inexpensive. Of course when I got there the man behind the counter tried to talk me into buying two tires because of balancing or something. I assured him the other tires were fine and I only needed the one. After a few back and forths the guy finally figured out I wasn’t shelling out the bucks for anything more than the basics. He told me to have a seat in the waiting area and they’d call my name when my car was ready. I sat on one of the plastic chairs furthest from the window then grabbed one of the books I’d gotten at the pharmacy from my purse. A guy in his thirties, blond hair with blue eyes, sat across from me, smirked at the book cover, and nudged his buddy in the arm. The two had a whispered conversation and chuckled. Men could be such jerks.
“You know if real men were as good as the men in these books, we wouldn’t need the books.”
“Maybe you haven’t found the right one. Give me a ride, you won’t be sorry.”
“Yeah, that’ll happen. Not.” I stuck my face in the book and forgot about the drooling idiots. I had just gotten to the part where the heroine realized she was in love with the jerk with a kind heart when someone called out my name. I sighed, stuck a piece of paper in the book to mark my page, and went over to the counter. I considered myself lucky to get out of the shop for under two hundred bucks. I drove next door to the car wash and had the fingerprint residue removed.
It was time to leave for my meeting with Brian’s parole officer. I didn’t think he’d have much information to give me but maybe he could tell me if Brian had been acting shady lately. Since Brian was already dead it couldn’t hurt. Not in the mood for music, I shut off the radio and made the drive in silence. I parked and went inside the gray brick building, where I gave my name t
o the man behind the bulletproof glass. A few minutes later I sat across from Mr. Coleman. I tried not to stare but it was hard to imagine this young man was responsible for keeping criminals in line. He looked better suited at the geek table, losing his lunch money to the school bully. Freckles covered the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks. His brown eyes hid behind a pair of Harry Potter-like glasses.
“So, Miss Murphy, how can I help you today?” His voice squeaked like a teenage boy during puberty.
“I’m a private investigator, and I’ve been hired to look into Brian Lewis’s murder.”
“It was a shame to hear about Brian. I really thought he’d turned his life around.”
“So, you don’t believe he’d gotten involved in something illegal?” I asked.
“He was taking steps to get out of that lifestyle and to remove those in his life who were bad influences.”
“What kind of steps? Which people?”
“I’m afraid I can’t say.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
He remained silent.
“Did he say anything about someone bothering him or any trouble he was in?” I tried again.
“If he did, I couldn’t discuss that with you.”
“I’m trying to help his family find closure. If you know something that could help, please tell me.”
“Look, Miss Murphy, the only reason I agreed to meet with you was because I respect your father. I can assure you I’ve spoken with Detective Tompkins and told him everything I know.”
“And that would be?”
He smiled. “Nice try. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have another meeting.”
I stood up, frustrated. “Thanks for your time.” I opened the door. “You’ve been so helpful.” I turned to leave and came face to face with David Jenson. Swell.
David was once again staring at my chest. His eyes traveled up to my face and registered recognition. The leering on his face was replaced with a look of disgust. The feeling was mutual.
“Well, if it ain’t Miss Nosy.”
“Mr. Jenson, what an unpleasant surprise.”
“Don’t you have somethin’ better to do than hassling people?” he asked.
Death By High Heels (The Kim Murphy PI Series Book 1) Page 10
