by P. J. Conn
"I miss him. Are you free for dinner Saturday night?"
Her reply held a wistful note, "Your case is over, Hal. We shouldn't endlessly rehash it."
"I agree. I'll pick you at your place. It will give me a chance to see Mr. Cuddles."
After a long silence, she whispered, "What are we doing, Hal?"
His voice dropped to a husky edge, "Whatever you want. I'll see you Saturday."
She laughed as though he were merely teasing. "Fine, about seven?"
"Seven it is." He hung up before she changed her mind.
All he needed to do now was decide where to scatter Faye and Pearl's ashes. He sat back in his chair to think, and the idea came to him in an instant. One beautiful young ghost already traipsed around the Hollywoodland sign, and she'd be sure to welcome a couple of new friends. He'd go in August when the nights were warm and still to bid his wife and Pearl a last loving good-bye, while it would surely take a lifetime to forget them.
The End
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Page forward for an excerpt from
STAIRWAY TO MURDER
A Detective Joe Ezell Mystery
Book Two
Excerpt from
Stairway To Murder
A Detective Joe Ezell Mystery
Book Two
by
P.J. Conn
Los Angeles, Summer 1947
Monday morning, Joe Ezell started up the stairs to his second floor office carrying a copy of The Los Angeles Times. Focused on the headlines, when he slipped, he fell hard, hit his chin on a step and actually did see stars the way cartoon characters do. He sat where he'd fallen to gather himself. Feeling like a clumsy fool, he wiped his chin on his handkerchief, but the blood on the stairs wasn't his.
Cleotis Cotton, the custodian of the building, entered right after Joe had fallen. "Oh my goodness, Mr. Ezell, let me help you up. Do we need to call an ambulance?" He picked up Joe as easily as he would a bag of groceries, and set him on his feet at the bottom of the stars.
Joe took a deep breath to clear his head. His chin hurt like hell, and he felt thoroughly rattled, but he'd not complain. "No, CC, I'm fine. But something is definitely wrong at the top of the stairs."
Cleotis followed Joe's glance and took a quick backward hop. "Oh my Lord, there's blood dripping halfway down the steps. Does a body hold much more than that?"
"No detective worthy of the name faints at the sight of blood, so I'll go up and investigate. You wait right here and if this is as awful as it looks, I want you to go into the drug store and call the police."
"Yes, sir, I'll wait right here."
Joe avoided the blood-spattered steps as he went up, this time with a firm grip on the brass railing bolted to the wall. He needed to go up only halfway to see the woman sprawled on the landing. Her throat had been cut from ear to ear, and he was terribly afraid she was his nine o'clock appointment.
"Call the police, CC," he called, "a woman has been murdered."
CC bolted out the door without asking if she was anyone they knew. Joe stood frozen on the stairs. He had met Georgia Dixon only once, when he'd picked up his girlfriend, Mary Margaret McBride, at the VA hospital in West Los Angeles where both worked as nurses. He recognized Georgia now from her curly brown hair. She'd kept it in a coiled bun for work, but going out the door at the end of the day she'd shaken out the tight curls and let them bounce upon her shoulders.
They had spoken briefly when Mary Margaret had introduced him, but he remembered her when she'd called to make an appointment. Unfortunately, she'd not revealed the cause of her concern, but clearly someone hadn't wanted her to see him that morning. She lay with her arms flung wide and her legs crumpled beneath her. Her black handbag had fallen open and the contents were spilled near her feet.
Rather than be accused of tampering with evidence, Joe left the purse untouched, and took great care to retrace his steps to the bottom of the stairs and sat down. He rested his head in his hands, and took in great gulps of air. He'd opened Discreet Investigations as soon as he'd passed the test for a private investigator's license. He'd studied the subject and felt fully qualified to follow men cheating on their wives, and vice versa, or perhaps catch an office thief or a clerk pilfering from the till, but murder, with one notable exception, was way beyond his realm of experience.
Max Broderick, a dentist with an office across the hall from Joe's, pushed through the heavy door at the entrance of the building and came to an abrupt halt. "What's wrong, Joe, are you ill?"
Joe looked up and nodded toward the gruesome evidence trickling down the stairs. "A young woman's been murdered. The police have been called, and you better stay right where you are. Believe me, you don't want to see her."
"My god! A murder in our building?" Max gasped. A man in his fifties with thinning hair and thick glasses, he hadn't served in World War II and had no experience with dead bodies. His knees felt weak, and he leaned against the wall. "My patients are all scheduled for the afternoon, do you think the police will have cleared the scene by then?"
As always, Max was meticulously dressed, the handkerchief in his jacket pocket matched his tie. He wore handsomely-tailored suits to his office even though he'd slip off his jacket and wear a white coat to see patients. He seemed to be a nice enough fellow, and they often exchanged hellos in the morning, but neither had been inclined to linger for a full conversation.
"You'll probably have to re-schedule today's appointments," Joe advised. "The police aim to be thorough rather than fast."
"I could go up the back stairs to reach my office," Max replied.
"Better wait. If the police find you upstairs, they might suspect you know more than you actually do."
"Oh right. I'll stay right here then. Maybe I'll go into the drugstore and get a cup of coffee at the counter."
Joe nodded. "Go right ahead."
CC held the door for Max as he went out. "The police said they'd be right here. I told them we'd come into work and found a gruesome murder. That's the word, isn't it?"
"It's gruesome, all right." Joe wondered if Mary Margaret knew why Georgia had wanted to see him. If so, he hoped it wouldn't put the woman he loved in grave danger.
Stairway To Murder
A Detective Joe Ezell Mystery
Book Two
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Stairway To Murder
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A native Californian, P.J. Conn attended the University of Arizona and California State University at Los Angeles where she earned a BA in Art History and an MA in Education. Her Historical Romance and Science Fiction novels, written under Phoebe Conn, have won many awards.
Phoebe is the proud mother of two grown sons and two adorable grandchildren, who love to have her read to them.
Table of Contents
Cover
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Ch
apter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Excerpt from STAIRWAY TO MURDER (A Detective Joe Ezell Mystery, Book 2)
Meet the Author
