Book Read Free

Murder On The Mind

Page 39

by L.L. Bartlett


  * * *

  Maggie eased the shifter into park and turned off the engine. We hadn’t spoken in the ten or so minutes it had taken for her to drive me back to Richard’s house. The silence continued to lengthen.

  Finally Maggie let out a sigh. “I feel like a criminal and I’m not guilty of anything.”

  “Technically, we’re guilty of breaking and entering.”

  “Oh, shit.” She sank back against her bucket seat.

  “The question is, who else knew about the condo? And what was Sumner’s wife doing there—naked and dead?”

  “Waiting for a lover?” Maggie suggested. She, too, had seen through Claudia’s facade of the faithful wife. “But who’d kill her and why?”

  “Probably the same person who killed Matt. Maybe for the same reason.” I wasn’t ready to tell her what I thought about Sharon Walker.

  Her gaze was fixed on nothing, her brows furrowed with worry.

  “Don’t think about it,” I said.

  “How can I stop?”

  “You just have to.”

  We both had to.

  “What if someone saw us? What if—”

  “If the neighbors saw or heard anything, the cops would’ve been swarming the place. We did them a favor. It could’ve been days—maybe a week—before some poor cleaning lady found her.”

  “I’m glad I didn’t look. Have you ever seen anything like that before?”

  The memory of my trip to the morgue to identify Shelley’s body would be with me until I died.

  “My ex-wife was killed the same way. But I didn’t see her until the coroner cleaned her up. This was a lot worse.” I’d have nightmares for weeks.

  “I wish I’d never found that damn key,” Maggie said and turned her face away. “I’m sorry. This isn’t how I’d planned to end the evening.”

  “Me, either.”

  “I like you, Jeff, a lot. But after what happened tonight, I—”

  She didn’t have to say the words. I already knew. “You don’t want to see me.”

  “I’m not saying it’s forever. Give me a few weeks and maybe we can try again. It’s just. . . .”

  I cupped her chin, turned her face toward me, and leaned across the shifter, pressing my lips against hers. There was no passion in her response; neither was there revulsion. Maybe we could try again in another couple of weeks. Maybe.

 

‹ Prev