by Rose Pressey
The detective gave me that same look again. The look that said aw, aren’t you cute, trying to play detective.
“Go on,” the detective urged.
“Anyway, I followed the man inside the office and that was when I realized that he’s Arthur Abbott’s partner in the law firm.” I rushed my words.
“Is that right?” the detective eyed me up and down.
I didn’t back down from his stare. Two could play that game.
After what felt like forever, he said, “We’ll need you to give a full statement, if you don’t mind.”
I straightened. “Not at all.”
“My name is Detective Jackson, by the way.” He soaked up my appearance with his intense blue eyes.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said.
He handed me his business card. “You can call me Jake if you’d like.”
I peeked at the card quickly. Jake. I liked that name. But it was odd…why was he being so informal with me? He didn’t know me.
“Did you touch the body?” He stared, waiting for my answer.
It depended on his definition of touching the body. Poking it with my foot? Checking for a pulse? Hmm. I supposed all of those things constituted touching the body.
“Yes, I checked to see if he had a pulse,” I answered reluctantly.
He frowned.
I threw my hands up. “Well, what did you want me to do? I had to see if he was still alive, right?”
“Did you touch anything else in the condo?” he asked without answering my previous question.
“Other than the doorknob, the window by the dining room, the sofa, the figurine in the dining room, and the coffee table, no, I didn’t touch anything.” I counted each one off on my fingers.
He closed his eyes for a moment, then finally said, “I thought you were a private investigator? Don’t you know you’re not supposed to touch those things?”
I knew all too well that I’d failed at Private Investigator 101. It was too late to worry about it now though. What was done was done. I liked to think of it as learning as I went. As long as I stayed out of prison in the process, I’d be good.
“Of course I know I’m not supposed to touch things at a murder scene, but I didn’t know he was dead, therefore I didn’t know that it was a murder scene, now did I?” I smirked.
The corners of his mouth turned up into a slight grin. “No, I suppose you didn’t.”
I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “I’ve been thinking…which I had plenty of time to do while waiting for you all to show up.”
He mimicked my actions and folded his arms in front of his muscular chest. “Please do continue.”
“I think Mr. Abbott knew his attacker.” I fixed my stare on his handsome face.
“Is that right? And what makes you think that?” he asked with a smirk.
“Well, I figure based on the position of the body, it looks as if Mr. Abbott was sitting on the sofa. Someone obviously struck him and he fell forward onto the floor. He had a drink on the coffee table. I bet there was another drink on that table too. He was probably having a conversation with someone. I bet the killer took his drink with him when he left,” I said with satisfaction.
He rubbed his chin with his hand. “Interesting detective work. What makes you think it was a male?”
Well, the fact that his law firm partner was cheating with Arthur’s wife?
I shrugged. “I don’t know, I just said he.”
“You seem to have an intimate knowledge of what happened at the crime scene. Especially since we don’t even know how the deceased died yet. It could be suicide, we just don’t know yet.” He looked at me suspiciously.
I waved my hand dismissively. “Oh, he didn’t kill himself.”
He raised an eyebrow. “He didn’t?”
Okay, with every word that slipped out of my big mouth I was implicating myself. Soon enough I’d be staring at the backside of bars in the Dade County jail.
“He didn’t seem depressed is what I meant to say,” I offered.
“Did you know him well?” he asked.
“Well, no, but he just hired me to investigate a case. And why would he kill himself right after that?” I pointed with my index finger. “I can answer that for you: he wouldn’t.”
Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “You said you found proof that his wife was cheating, maybe he discovered that before you had a chance to share with him what you’d found. Maybe that would have caused him to take his own life.”
Well, damn. He did have a point, but still, I just had a feeling that it hadn’t gone down like that.
“I suppose you could assume that was a possibility, but I just don’t think he was the type to commit suicide.” I shook my head.
“Thank you for your insight, Ms. Thomas.” He nodded. “I’ll be in touch.”
A rush of adrenaline ran through me when he said that, but I wasn’t sure why. What had Uncle Griffin gotten me into? I’d had a much easier time as a telemarketer.
Chapter Five
After speaking with another officer and giving him my full statement, I was allowed to leave.
I hurried over to the Cadillac and climbed in. “Let’s get out of here, Dorothy,” I said.
“I thought they’d never let you go,” Dorothy said as she turned the ignition and punched the gas pedal.
I waved my hand. “Well, they had no choice but to let me go. I did nothing wrong…other than finding the body.”
“That is bad luck, but there was one bright side.” Dorothy grinned.
“What’s that?” I asked curiously.
“That was a handsome man you were speaking with…a tall glass of water.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “What did he want?”
“He’s a detective and he was basically interrogating me, so I could care less how handsome he is. As a matter of fact, he was kind of rude,” I said.
“What did he do that was so rude?”
“He clearly didn’t think my private investigation skills were all that great. You should have seen the way he looked at my business card.”
She snorted.
I waved my finger in her direction. “Dorothy, don’t you make fun of me. It’s been a long day and I still don’t have a car that runs.”
“Don’t you get sassy with me, young lady. I didn’t take that sassiness from your uncle and I won’t take it from you either. As a matter of fact, this job is nothing but a headache. Why if it wasn’t for promising your uncle that I’d watch over you, I would be on the beach right now watching the shirtless hot guys in their swim trunks.” She gestured toward the water and drove me back to the office.
***
After another two hours, my car battery had been replaced and I was headed home, fantasizing about soaking under a hot shower. I needed to wash off the day’s stress and relax the tension churning inside me. When I walked through the door, I set my purse and gun on the table, then tossed my keys down and locked the door behind me. Sand littered the floor where I’d kicked off my shoes. The tiny space had a beige tile floor and beige walls—not exactly the most exciting colors. There was just enough room for a bed and a small desk.
With my dwindling checking account, it would have to do until I could afford better. I’d brought my soft cream-colored floral comforter and added flowers in a vase to brighten up the room. It added a nice romantic touch without the actual romance. I’d have to have a date in order to have romance.
I turned up the air conditioner, but it sputtered in protest. Calling the landlord to repair the unit would do little good. He’d fixed the leaking pipe with duct tape. There was no way I wanted to find out how he’d repair the AC. I gave the unit a kick, then when the pain set in, remembered that I was wearing flip-flops.
After a long shower, I collapsed onto my sofa with chocolate and reruns of Magnum, P.I. A couple hours passed and I flicked off the DVR with my remote. I’d seen this episode about fifty times, but it always made me nervous at the end when Thomas Magnum f
ound himself in such a troubling situation. Suddenly, I could totally relate to his plight.
The next morning, I was back in my office looking at the photos of Allison Abbott and Sam Louis. I wondered what Allison thought when she’d found out her husband had been murdered? What had Sam Louis thought? And to think I’d just seen them before Arthur was murdered. Could they have been responsible for Arthur’s death?
Dorothy hadn’t arrived yet. She said she needed a leisurely morning to relax after what had happened the day before. I couldn’t blame her for that. I’d told her she could take the whole day off, but she said that wouldn’t be necessary. But to be honest, she could knit and solve crossword puzzles here just as easily as she could at home.
A knock sounded at the door and I jumped. I glanced around as if I expected someone else to answer the door, but I was the only one there, so it was totally up to me. I eased up from my chair and around the desk.
With my hand on the doorknob, I paused, then opened the door. The wind was knocked out of my chest when I saw who was standing in front of me. It was Allison Abbott. She wore jeans and a pink T-shirt that looked as if she’d slept in it. Today she had no makeup on and it looked as if she hadn’t brushed her hair. I was at a loss for words.
“I guess you’re surprised to see me here. May I come in?” She gestured with a tilt of her head.
There was no way I could refuse her. I had to know what she wanted. How did she know to come here? How had she found out about me? I stepped to the side allowing her to enter the room.
“Please come in.” I waved my hand through the air.
“Thank you,” she said as she walked past me.
“How can I help you?” I asked.
Since I didn’t know what else to say, I figured that was as good a place to start as any.
“I know you know who I am,” she said, staring me straight in the eyes.
I nodded. “Yes, I do. Would you like to sit down?”
She eased down on the chair and placed her hands in her lap. It was hard to believe that just twenty-four hours ago her husband had been in the same place.
“I came here for a specific reason. My husband had your business card and I know why.”
Chapter Six
“So you know why your husband had my card in his possession?”
She looked me right in the eyes, and said, “He had it because he thought I was cheating on him and wanted you to catch me in the act.”
“You knew that he was having someone follow you?” I asked just to confirm.
“No, I didn’t know at first, not until I found your business card. That’s when I put two and two together. He used another agency for anything work related, so I was always on the lookout for those guys. How did I let my guard down so easily? How did I allow you to follow me?” She put her head in her hands.
I shook my head. “I can’t answer that question.”
“Did you get proof of my affair?” She straightened in the chair, regaining her composure.
“I can’t answer that question either,” I said.
Although I wasn’t sure why I couldn’t answer. After all, my client was dead. He wouldn’t know, but it seemed like the right thing to do.
She frowned. “I’ll take that as yes. I won’t even try to hide the fact that I was cheating with Sam Louis from you. But it’s not like it seems.”
“Cheating isn’t like it seems?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.
Once the words slipped out, I realized that I shouldn’t have said that. It was none of my business what she did. Arthur had hired me for a job, and I wasn’t there to judge her or what she did or didn’t do. I had no idea what her situation was like.
“Being with Sam seemed exciting at first. He was paying a lot of attention to me. That was something that my husband wasn’t doing. But recently I started having regrets. Yesterday, I told Sam I wanted to break things off and try to work it out with my husband.” She looked down at her hands. “Now it’s too late.”
She pulled a tissue from her purse and wiped her eyes. I looked closer to gauge whether they were fake tears, but the truth was, I has no idea. I liked to think I was a good judge of character, but I couldn’t read Allison Abbott. I didn’t know if she was truly sincere or this was all an act.
“Why did you come here today?” Determination filled my voice.
“The police think I killed my husband.”
I detected a touch of fear in her voice, but then I looked up and noticed her cold eyes. How could she have no emotion? Or how could she hide it? This was getting serious. What did she want me to do about it? Shouldn’t she be talking to a lawyer instead of me?
“Are you sure?” I asked.
She wiped her eyes again. “They’ve been asking a lot of questions.”
“Well, I guess they don’t have any proof that you murdered him or they would have arrested you by now,” I said, proud of my shrewd assessment.
“I don’t trust them. They’ll find something or make something up. I don’t want to go to jail,” she said.
I was sure no one wanted to go to jail. Locked behind bars was one of the last places I’d ever want to be. Why was she so sure they would find something against her unless she really was guilty? I found that I wanted out of this situation more and more with each passing minute.
“Do you have an alibi?” I asked, almost afraid of her answer.
Her gaze shifted from mine and she was quiet for a moment. Finally, she answered, “No, I don’t have an alibi, per se.”
“Well, I guess it’s none of my business, but that can’t look good to the police,” I said.
She released a deep breath, then said, “I was with Sam Louis and then I stopped off at the beach for a walk.”
“Did anyone see you at the beach?” I pressed.
She shook her head. “Yes, but the person saw me walking from the beach to the condo tower where my husband was staying.”
My eyes widened. “Why in the world were you there?”
My question had come out a teensy bit harsher than I’d expected.
“I wanted to talk to him about our marriage, but I backed out at the last minute and went home,” she said.
Oh, she was so screwed. They might as well take her in and snap the mug shot now. I decided to remain positive for her benefit though. Keep a professional persona, I reminded myself.
“Well, I’m sure they’ll find the killer. They always have to talk with the spouse first. You do have an attorney, right?” I looked at her optimistically.
She nodded. “It’s the other partner in the firm. His name is Matt Cooper. He’s a great attorney and he was good friends with my husband, obviously. I trust him…but it’s just that I don’t trust the police.”
Wow, she really had an issue with the police. I wondered what that was about. She stared at me while I formulated in my mind the best way to word my next question.
Finally I asked, “Was Sam Louis involved in the murder of your husband?”
Again, she looked away for a moment before finally turning to look at me again.
“To answer your question, no, I don’t think he was.” She blew out a deep breath. “Hell, I don’t know what to think. Anything is possible, I guess.”
I had to admit I was intrigued by this mystery. Who would have killed Arthur Abbott? I’d learned early on in life never to trust anyone. Allison Abbott could be lying to my face. I shouldn’t fall for her sweetness or mourning face.
Her eyes were red and puffy. Had she been crying because of her husband or just because she was being accused of his murder?
“How do you know your husband was murdered?” I asked.
It had been fairly obvious to me when I’d discovered the body that he hadn’t killed himself, but I had to ask.
She furrowed her brow. “The police told me.”
“How exactly did he die?” I asked.
I’d never gotten the specifics from the police. I’d thought it was a gunshot, but I’m no exper
t.
“He had been shot. The wound wasn’t self-inflicted.” She wiped her tears again.
Well, there was my answer.
I’d been in the condo. Would she think I’d murdered her husband? Maybe she was coming to me to set me up? This mystery became more of a twisted maze with each second.
I’d have to work my way around the police with this one.
“Excuse me for asking, Ms. Abbott, but why are you here? Why are you telling me all of this?”
“I want you to find the killer,” she said matter-of-factly.
My mouth fell open. “I don’t know what to say.”
“I didn’t know where to go for help. You can understand, right?” She looked at me for an answer.
Not really, but that was neither here nor there. “Can’t your attorney, Mr. Cooper, help you find the real killer?” I asked.
She paused as she twisted her hands nervously. “Yes, I suppose he could, but he has enough going on right now without dealing with my problem. I got myself into this mess. I shouldn’t have cheated on my husband.”
I paused, at a loss for words.
“I can pay you well for your services.” She locked her gaze on me.
It was hard to say no when she was looking at me like that. Plus, I needed the money. How the heck had I gotten myself involved in a murder investigation? Wasn’t it bad enough that I’d found the body, but now I was supposed to find the killer too? But what did I have to lose? Would it be strange if I took her as a client? What would the police say? What would that Detective Jake Jackson think? Maybe I’d show him a thing or two. He seemed to think that I was incompetent.
I released a deep breath. I was probably going to regret what I was about to do. “Okay. I’ll help you, but you have to tell me everything.”
She offered a small smile. “Of course. I’ll tell you anything you need to know.” She pulled out her purse and then her checkbook. “I can write you a check.”
I handed her a pen. There was no looking back now.
