Death By High Heels (The Kim Murphy PI Series Book 1)

by Violet Ingram

  I looked down at my bare feet. Yup, shoes were definitely in order. “Just give me a minute.”

  “One Mississippi, two Mississippi…”

  “You’re so not funny.”

  I grabbed gym shoes and my purse. In the kitchen I jotted down a note explaining my absence just in case Melissa and Charmaine regained consciousness while I was gone. Then I told Michael I’d meet him there.

  “No way, I’ll drive.”

  “No, thanks.”

  “You’re riding with me. We need to talk.”

  “Swell,” I muttered.

  We got into his Dodge Ram. I waited for him to talk. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Well?” I demanded.

  “Huh, oh, nothing.”

  “But you said we needed to talk.”

  “I just told you that so you’d get in without any more arguing.”

  “You’re a jerk.”

  “Yup.”

  Michael glanced over at me and we both laughed. He parked in front of the apartment building next door to my office. Two patrol cars, a fire truck, and an ambulance filled the lot in front of mine. We walked up to the building but stopped at the police tape. One of the patrol officers noticed Michael and waved him in. I started to go under and the officer yelled for me to stop.

  “It’s okay. She’s my sister and this is her office.” Michael lifted the tape and let me through. I got to the back door and stopped.

  “Kim, are you coming in?”

  “Yeah, I think.”

  “Come on.”

  I followed him inside. The fumes attacked my eyes and nose. Taking a deep breath felt like I was breathing tar into my lungs. Three firefighters brushed past me on their way out. None of them stopped to give me a hard time, so it was safe to assume none of them were family.

  In my office, the chair, desk, and computer had all been burned, then been soaked by the firefighters. Not that I was complaining, thanks to them the rest of the place was intact, sort of. Someone had searched my office. Drawers were open and knickknacks had been knocked over.

  I checked the file cabinets in the little storage room next to the kitchen. All the cabinets were locked and did not appear to have been tampered with. Thank goodness. I would hate to think someone had gone through my client files. I went back to my office and found Michael talking with the fire marshal, Terran Barber.

  “It’s pretty obvious someone ransacked it then tried to torch the place,” Terran said.

  We’d met, so we skipped the introductions and got right to the questions and answers part of the conversation. I was of no help whatsoever. The only thing I could tell him was about the knife in my tire and that I wasn’t sure if it was connected to this or not. He told me he’d be in touch and that I could have access to my office sometime tomorrow evening. I did learn there were signs of forced entry and that whoever broke in took out the alarm system.

  Sometime during our conversation a man from the alarm company showed up, a bit too late to be of much use, or so I thought. He assured me he would board up the door and keep someone on the property to watch twenty-four seven until a new door and alarm system could be installed.

  I thanked them both before Michael took me home. He parked on the street and asked me if I was okay. Not wanting to add to his worry, I lied and said I was right as rain. I didn’t think he bought it but at least he was kind enough not to push it. He did, however, apologize for our previous argument without any prompting, which showed just how worried he really was.

  I took two Tylenol with half a glass of water, hoping to prevent a hangover. I slipped under the covers and was asleep within a matter of minutes. It was nine thirty when I woke up. My head felt a little fuzzy but was pain free. Since I was nausea free, there was a decision to make—Bill’s Donuts or McDonald’s. Unsure of when my houseguests would rise, the donut shop was the winner. After a quick trip to the bathroom, I grabbed my purse and keys and headed out, careful to check for lurking reporters. Back home, I walked toward my door and noticed the police tape was missing from Lindsay’s. Melissa and Charmaine were in the kitchen waiting for the coffeemaker to do its thing.

  “Morning, ladies. That coffee will go great with these.” I showed them the box of donuts, but instead of the happy face I got when offered donuts, they both frowned and backed away. “Not feeling the love for the jelly donut I take it.”

  “Kim, get those away from me,” Melissa said.

  “Sorry.”

  After the donuts were out of sight, I filled them in on the fire. They bombarded me with questions. I answered them as best I could over a cup of coffee. When we were all talked out we said our goodbyes.

  When they were gone I settled down with more coffee and one too many donuts. When I felt like moving, I got up and did the dishes. Next to tackle was a week’s worth of laundry. I got the hamper and took it with me to what the landlord generously called a laundry room, but was really a closet with a washer and dryer in the kitchen. First up, I started a load of t-shirts and went back upstairs into my at home office to begin making calls.

  An hour later my ear was red and sore from having the phone pressed to it for so long, but the pain was worth it. I talked to the insurance company and set up an appointment for later this week. The agent had been pleasant. I just hoped they covered the cost of everything. The furniture was easy to replace with a quick trip to Wal-Mart but the carpet would need to be replaced and the walls in my office would need to be cleaned. I had also called my office landlord, who was less than thrilled to hear about the damage, but he did promise to replace the door after we got off the phone. I gave him the fire marshal’s name and number. I also contacted the alarm company to give them a heads up about my landlord’s imminent arrival.

  From my bedroom I grabbed the basket of jeans and took it downstairs. I transferred the shirts to the dryer and started stuffing the jeans into the washer. As always I checked the pockets before putting them inside. In one of the pockets I found the piece of paper from Sara’s apartment. In all the craziness I had forgotten about it. I got the laundry going and took it upstairs. It felt like déjà vu as I sat and tried to straighten out the picture, just like I had with the one from Angie’s. This picture was more than just similar to the other. The two pictures had to have been taken at the same time. A woman in a red dress showed up in both pictures. In both, the pictures were too damaged to make out her face.

  What the heck was up with these pictures? Why did Angie and Sara both have them? Why were they crumpled? All these questions and not a single answer to any of them. Frustrated, I stuck the picture in my desk. This case needed to be looked at with a clear head. Since I didn’t have one I decided to take a break and catch up on chores. Over the next few hours, I got the laundry done and the entire apartment cleaned. The phone rang several times while I vacuumed, but I had chosen to ignore them all. With nothing left to do, stalling was over. I pushed play on the answering machine. After listening for a moment I hit delete. The message was from Mr. Abraham, the reporter from hell. It was the middle of summer but Miami had a better chance of getting two feet of snow than that idiot had of me returning his call.

  I had also ignored a call from Lindsay. Not up to dealing with whatever drama she had lined up for me today, I skipped to the next message on the machine. It was from Brian and Sara’s mom. I called her back, unsure of what she could want. She answered right away and asked for me to come to her place. We agreed to meet in an hour.

  Sweaty from the workout and chores, I took a shower so as to not offend Mrs. Lewis. There was no point in bothering with makeup. As for my hair, I dried it and stuck it in a ponytail. With a twenty-minute wait before I had to leave, I sat down with Karin Tabke’s latest book and lost track of time.

  At Mrs. Lewis’s home, she let me in before I had a chance to knock. We took the same seats we had a few days ago. She offered me coffee, but I took a pass. The last thing this woman needed to do was wait on me like a proper hostess.

  “So, Mrs. Le
wis, what was it you wanted to speak to me about?” I asked, dreading the answer while knowing what it would be.

  “I know you’re looking into Brian’s murder. My daughter, Sara, is missing. I want you to help the police find her.”

  Sometimes it really sucked being right.

  “Mrs. Lewis, I need to be honest with you. I’m not having any luck with your son’s case. Sara called me and asked to meet with me.”

  “She did?”

  “Yes, but when I went to her apartment she never showed. Did the police tell you someone broke into her apartment?”

  “Yes. I don’t understand any of this. Brian was a good kid who got into trouble, but he turned his life around.”

  “What about Sara?”

  “She was an okay student in high school. She hung out with a wild bunch but then she went to college and got a job as a home health nurse. She’s doing well.”

  “So you can’t think of any reason someone would want to hurt them?”

  “No. Like I told the police, none of this makes any sense. Miss Murphy, I don’t have a lot of money but I have a decent job and I can make monthly payments. I could give you a few hundred dollars to start.”

  “Mrs. Lewis, I’m sorry, I can’t take your money.”

  “Please, it’s all I have.”

  “No, I’m sorry, I meant, I’ll look for Sara. You keep your money.”

  “But…”

  “Don’t worry about it. So, let’s get started. I want a list of her friends, boyfriends, exes, place of employment. The faster you get that for me, the better.”

  “Here, I stayed up all night. I wrote this up in case you agreed. Her boss’s name is at the bottom.”

  “Okay, well, thanks for this. I’ll get started on it right away.” I stood up and Mrs. Lewis walked me to the door. Before she closed it I told her to try to take a nap, that wearing herself out was the last thing she needed right now. She smiled and nodded her head but we both knew sleep wasn’t going to come to her anytime soon.

  A part of me had wanted to turn her down, but I couldn’t. The poor woman had already lost a son and now her only other child, a daughter, was missing. The kind of hell she was going through I couldn’t begin to imagine and hoped I never could.

  Walking toward my car, I veered off, headed straight for Ed’s Barbeque Barn at the corner. It was well past lunchtime and I was starving. Just as I reached for the door I spotted a familiar face walking toward me. “Mr. Alberts, what a surprise.”

  “Kevin, please. What are you doing here?”

  I pointed to the building. “Lunch.”

  “Oh yeah, me too.”

  We stood in line and I did my best to keep up with my end of the chit chat. Sensing he’d ask to join me, I chose carry out instead. “Well, Kevin, it was nice to see you.”

  “Oh, you too. I was wondering if you heard about Sara, Brian’s sister?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s terrible. Mrs. Lewis is a real nice lady. Brian and Sara, they were good to her. I wish there was something I could do.”

  “Maybe you could spend a little time with Mrs. Lewis, so she’s not all alone,” I suggested.

  “That’s a great idea, Kim. Thanks. I guess I’ll see ya soon.”

  “Yeah, well, gotta go. Bye.”

  The last thing I needed was Kevin hanging around. He was nice but I was pretty sure my interests wouldn’t mesh with his, which I bet included smoking pot, eating pizza, and playing video games. Okay, eating pizza was pretty awesome, but that was it for me.

  At home I grabbed a Diet Pepsi from the fridge and sat at the couch to eat lunch. Flipping through all the channels, I settled on an episode of Finding Bigfoot because it always made me laugh.

  After lunch I went upstairs and went through the list Mrs. Lewis gave me. Some of the names on the list were also friends of Brian’s. That wasn’t so strange. What was strange was the other day Sara had called Brian’s friends a bunch of losers. Kind of harsh to say about people considered to be close to you as well.

  There were five names on the list I had not come across during my investigation into Brian’s and Adam’s murders. All were women. I left messages for two of them and set up appointments for Monday morning with the rest.

  Sara’s employer was a local home health agency. The name, We Care Nursing, seemed vaguely familiar. I couldn’t figure out why. No one in my family had used them. Maybe they had one of those annoying commercials that were so bad you forgot the name of the product or the company. I called and the receptionist transferred me to the weekend supervisor. The supervisor told me to call back on Monday. The president of the company was the only one I could speak with. I thanked her and hung up, frustrated.

  At the moment there wasn’t much I could do. Brian and Adam were dead. I feared with Angie and Sara missing it was only a matter of time before their bodies showed up. This whole thing was connected but so far I couldn’t find out how. All I had was a lawyer, mutual friends, and a couple of pictures.

  The phone rang and, stupid me, I answered it without checking the caller ID.

  “Kim, thank goodness, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you. I stopped by your office this afternoon. What the heck happened?”

  “Lindsay, there was a fire. What did you need?”

  “I was hoping you had learned something helpful. I really need to get back to my life. This mess is so draining.”

  Yeah, I’d bet. I filled her in without telling her every detail. There were some things I just didn’t feel like explaining. She was polite, for once, and didn’t ask questions until I was done.

  “Wow, you’ve actually learned quite a bit.”

  Not really, but I certainly wasn’t going to bring that to her attention. “I’ve learned some but I’m not finished.”

  “All of this just proves it has nothing to do with me. I wouldn’t be associated with these people. The police will have to leave me alone and find the real killer. Thank you, Kim.”

  “Yes, the real killer is still out there and…”

  “That certainly isn’t my problem. That’s for the police to handle. Just send me a receipt and a check for the difference.”

  “Lindsay, this isn’t over, not yet.”

  “It is for me. I have to go. We’ll talk soon. Bye.”

  Lindsay was clueless. Even if there was proof she didn’t kill Brian, she was still, somehow, connected. Brian was murdered in her apartment, an apartment that had been searched several times. Hell, for all anyone knew, the clues were still hidden inside her place.

  Her apartment was just sitting there, empty. The cleaning company I had called wouldn’t be available until Monday morning. The police tape was gone. There was no reason why I couldn’t just go over and take a quick look around. I thought about it, for about a second, then went and got the key Lindsay had given me.

  I hurried over before I could talk myself out of it. I went inside and made sure to lock the door behind me. It was daylight but I still felt my pulse race, and not in a good way. The last two times I’d been in here had not been pleasant experiences. It looked as bad as I remembered. Even worse now thanks to the addition of fingerprint dust everywhere.

  Now all I had to figure out was where to start. Since the downstairs had been annihilated, I chose to start upstairs. It felt weird at first, searching through Lindsay’s things. It was obvious whoever broke in never made it upstairs. The place was spotless and everything seemed to be in its place. This was good. Maybe whatever they had been looking for was still here. The problem was I probably wouldn’t recognize what it was they wanted. Not unless it was a bloody knife, a loaded gun, drugs, or diamonds, something that screamed, Look at me, I’m it.

  The last room I searched was Lindsay’s bedroom. I pulled a photo box out from under her bed. Expecting to see pictures, I gasped when I found a bunch of sex toys instead. I put the lid back on and put it back under the bed. Even though I didn’t touch anything inside the box I rushed into the bathroom and scrubbed my hands
with french vanilla hand soap and water.

  With the upstairs done, it was time to start the search downstairs. There weren’t many hiding places that hadn’t already been searched by the police and the thieves who broke in and left without stealing anything.

  Fifteen minutes later and I had searched everything but the kitchen. Odds were the only things I’d find in there were kitchen appliances and food, but it needed to be done. To be sure I didn’t miss anything, I checked inside all the pots and pans, the canisters on the counter, and the refrigerator. Heck, I even checked the cookie jar. All that was left was the oven. Only an idiot would hide something of value inside an appliance with a broil setting but what the hell. I opened up the bottom drawer first and searched through several sauce pans, finding nothing, again. Finally I opened the door and my mouth dropped open. I knew there were people who stored pots and pans in their ovens but I was not one of them. I left a pan in mine once. The next day I preheated the oven and totally forgot about the pan. The smell of melted plastic was beyond awful. Between the mess and airing out my apartment in the middle of winter, it was a very painful way to learn a lesson.

  The inside of the oven looked like it had never been used. I took the lid off the very last pot and found an SD card. Yes, I knew there was something in this place. Although with my luck the only thing on it would be pictures of Lindsay and her married boyfriend. Yuck. I took the card and closed the oven.

  Thanks to my snooping I was covered in more black powder than a Civil War reenactment field. I was just grateful that I’d made it back inside my apartment without having been accosted by an evil monster with a microphone and a camera crew. I could imagine the phone calls from family and friends if I appeared on the evening news looking like a chimney sweep.

  Not wanting to track the mess through my apartment, I kicked off my shoes and stripped out of my clothes just inside the door. After dumping the clothes into the washer, I rushed upstairs, eager to scrub off the grime and evidence of my illegal search. I tucked the SD card in a box of tampons. I saw a woman do that on a TV show and when her apartment was broken into they left the jewelry she had tucked inside the tampon box. Okay, so it was a TV show but it was worth a shot. By the time I came back downstairs from my second shower of the day I felt somewhat human again—a very hungry human. I started the washer and went into the kitchen.