Death By High Heels (The Kim Murphy PI Series Book 1) (17 page)

“I am not
adorably obnoxious
. I don’t even think that makes sense.”

“Trust me, sweetie, it does. So what do you need help with? Fess up,” she said.

“Fine. I do need your help.”

“Ha.”

“I have a job to do tonight and I need your advice,” I said.

“Ask away.”

“I have to dress slutty.”

“Okay, are we talking hooker slutty or desperate single and approaching thirty slutty?”

“Melissa…”

“Okay, okay, don’t twist your panties up. Well, you can forget finding anything in that thing you insist is a closet. Ooh, I’ve got it. When do you need this?”

“I need to be at Indiscretions at eight.”

“Perfect. I’ll meet you at your place at six.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. I love playing dress up. Bye.”

With Melissa taking care of the evening’s attire, I was freed up to go back to the office and accomplish something, namely work for my client. I had to take a moment to appreciate the fact that I had a friend who didn’t ask a bunch of stupid questions or judge me, she just started handling it. That was awesome.

I stuck the cell phone in my purse and grabbed the keys. I drove back to the office actually excited at the prospect of getting real work done. It seemed forever since I had felt like I had accomplished something. At my desk I flipped on the computer and removed the memory card from my cleavage. It was with a great amount of restraint that I refrained from getting up and doing a happy dance when the images of Janet appeared on the screen. They were fantastic. I printed out four sets of pictures. Two were going to the lawyer and the store owner, while I kept one for my own records. Inspired on the drive over, the last set, containing only the photos taken at the hotel, would be sent to Janet’s current husband.

Janet hadn’t limited herself to just cheating on her husband. She had gone beyond that when she’d filed a bogus lawsuit. Cheating of any kind had a way of pissing me off. I always rooted for them to get caught, even when I was just a kid playing Candy Land with my sister. When I’d found out the sack of crap I’d married was cheating on me, I hadn’t realized at the time he’d actually done me a huge favor. If I hadn’t caught him cheating, I may have still been married to him. I shuddered at the thought. Though it had hurt like hell at the time to find he had continued to date other women after we said “I do,” it turned out to be for the best. One day when I didn’t feel like ripping his nuts off and feeding them to the neighbor’s pit bull, I’d have to thank him.

In hindsight, I should have suspected something. For the whole three years we were together I never once had to worry about buying condoms. He had seemed to have an endless supply of the things and had always insisted on wearing one, even after we were married. For that I was truly grateful. If he had given me a sexually transmitted disease, they would have never found his body.

I stuffed the three sets of pictures into large envelopes and addressed the one for Janet’s husband to his work address. With all of that done, I pulled the file on Lindsay and once again went over everything I’d jotted down about what had happened since finding Brian’s body in Lindsay’s apartment several days ago. I had hoped going over my notes would jog my brain, bring some small detail into focus and help this whole thing make sense.

It worked sometimes so I figured I’d give it a try. Twenty minutes of reading and rereading resulted in absolutely nothing. Frustrated, I stuffed the file in my desk drawer and decided to walk to McDonald’s for inspiration in the form of a vanilla milkshake and french fries—a perfect combination for getting the brain cells working again. I stuck the memory card into my purse and made the short walk to McDonald’s and back.

Once again seated at my desk, I took the crumpled picture I’d found under Angie’s bed out of the desk drawer. The longer I looked at it the more I felt like I was missing something, something obvious, but I couldn’t, no matter how hard I tried, figure out what the hell it was.

Disappointed my guaranteed, never to fail inspiration method had indeed failed, I put the picture in the file and locked it in the file cabinet. There was nothing else for me to do so I decided to call it a day. I dropped the envelopes into the mailbox on my way home.

Figuring the night would be a late one, I crawled into bed and set the alarm. Two hours later I turned off the squawking sound, grateful to be awake and away from the bad dream that was thankfully already slipping from my memory.

In the bathroom I stripped out of my clothes and got into the shower. Though I wasn’t sure why I was bothering showering. I was pretty sure after spending the evening at a strip club I’d feel the need for several gallons of hand sanitizer. After my shower I slipped into a robe, dried my hair, and put on makeup. I was just finishing up the mascara when the doorbell rang.

Having finally learned my lesson, I remembered to look through the peephole before opening the door. All I saw was what appeared to be a white trash bag and fire engine red nails that looked more like talons than human fingernails used on a computer keyboard every day.

I opened the door and was suddenly surrounded by the scent of White Diamonds perfume and Melissa’s commentary of how long it took her to find just exactly what she had been looking for. The bags I had mistaken for trash bags turned out to be garment bags.

“After we pick out your outfit we’ll do your makeup.”

“I already did it.”

“Oh please, that’s way too understated for these outfits.”

“Wait, how many outfits did you buy?”

“Just a few. Relax, I’ll return anything we don’t use.”

“We?”

“Yes, we. Did you think I was going to send you out in the world all slutified and alone?”

“Slutified is not a word, and, besides, I’m working.”

“First, it’s a word because I just made it up, and second, of course you’re working, duh. So let’s get started, shall we?”

“Melissa…”

“Come on, let’s get upstairs. This is going to take some time.”

Resigned to the fact I’d be dragging my best friend to a strip club and have her watch while I came on to some guy, I followed her upstairs and filled her in on our evening plans.

“Sounds exciting. This could be excellent research for a book, which means I could write off the cost of the clothes.”

“I plan on paying you for them.”

“Don’t even think about it. I will slap you silly if you try.”

***

I looked at myself in the mirror and cringed. “Oh jeez, this is horrible.”

“Really? I thought it was the best of all three.”

If my parents or, God forbid, Father Steve saw me like this, I’d be in confession for hours. Though to be fair, the outfit would only get me a few minutes. Not much, when compared to all the other things I’d need to confess. It had been quite a while since my last confession when I’d admitted to putting my ex-husband’s baseball card collection through the shredder.

It had taken nearly an hour but boy, had it been worth it. I finished off the bottle of wine about the same time I’d put the last card in. The first half of the bottle had been the encouragement I’d needed. The second half was because I hadn’t wanted it to go to waste.

I had always felt there had been a divine intervention I hadn’t woken up the next morning with a hangover, considering my oath to God about getting drunk. At the time I had figured he’d given me a pass considering the situation.

Satisfied the barely there black mini skirt and red-hot halter top would have to do, I looked at Melissa and clapped my hand over my mouth. Gone were her designer clothes and expensive jewelry, and in their place were black leather pants and a matching bustier. “I can’t believe you replaced your diamonds with that clunky gold colored costume jewelry.”

“Everyone knows it isn’t safe to wear real jewelry to a place like that.”

“Oh.”

“So are you sure you don’t want any jewelry?”

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Suit yourself. Now let’s do something with your face.”

I sat on the toilet seat and let Melissa slather on so much makeup I feared I’d need a jack hammer to remove it all. She claimed she was finished with me and added a bit to her own already done up face. We stood next to each other in front of the mirror and, even made up to look like hookers, I felt like a store brand knockoff next to a name brand item.

I liked my brown hair but it wasn’t the shiny mahogany like Melissa’s. Her dark brown eyes with gold flecks went along with her olive skin, giving her a mysterious and glamorous feel. If she wasn’t also one of the kindest, most generous people I knew, I’d have probably given in to the urge to kill her years ago.

We grabbed our purses and while I headed for the back door, Melissa headed for the front. “What are you doing?”

“Elijah is waiting out front. I thought it best if he drove us. Don’t worry, he won’t stay. I’ll call him to pick us up.”

“I don’t want my neighbors to see me dressed like this. Besides, don’t you think Elijah is going to be a bit shocked to see us?”

“Shocked? No. Amused? Absolutely. How could you deny him the joy?”

“Fine.”

We stepped outside and the street suddenly seemed much farther away than it ever had before. Walking to the Mercedes, I prayed none of my neighbors would choose that moment to look out their windows. Melissa had been right. Elijah’s eyes looked ready to burst out of his head but he merely smiled while he held the door for us. Though I could have sworn I heard a chuckle just before the door closed, shutting off the sound.

Indiscretions was on the other side of town, which in a city the size of Lakeview meant we were only a twelve-minute drive away. Once there, Elijah pulled the car up to the front and got out, offering his hand to assist us exiting the back of the car. We waved goodbye and I wished desperately I was once again back inside the car headed just about anywhere.

“Well, let’s go.”

“I don’t want to,” I said.

“What are you, two? Come on.”

“Fine, but you have to promise to stop me from hitting any of these jerks if they put their hands on me.”

“Promise.” She placed her hand over her heart and smiled.

I was screwed.

We got in line and paid to go inside. They even carded us at the door. It would have been a compliment if they hadn’t carded the old guy in front of me who looked like he’d been around when Orville and Wilbur took their historic flight in 1903.

Inside, the music was loud, as were the furnishings—the tables were black while the chairs ranged in color from blue to purple and orange to pink. To be fair, they matched the carpet as well as the multicolored flashing lights. Evidently their clientele wasn’t too interested in fancy décor. Of course, to complete the picture, there were two women in their twenties onstage dancing around while they took off one item of clothing at a time.

Melissa and I made our way past tables of rowdy men hollering at the dancers. At the bar we each bought a beer and snagged a table as far from the floor show as possible, despite Melissa’s objections that we were too far from the excitement.

“Wow, that girl’s limber. If I could do that, I’d still be married to the mutant.”

“No, you wouldn’t. The mutant was also an asshole,” I said.

“Oh yeah, good point. I don’t know why I forget that.”

“Denial can be a beautiful thing.”

We had only been sitting down for a short while when the parade of losers began. The pickup lines were just plain sad. One of our would-be suitors was my contact pretending to hit on us. He slid a picture onto my lap and leaned down to whisper in my ear. “He’s at the bar. Red shirt, blond hair.”

“Got it. Now get lost.”

“Your friend looks hot. Maybe she’d like to come work for me.”

“Sorry, buddy, but you can’t afford her.”

“A damn shame.” Dimitri grabbed the picture from my hand, straightened up, and walked back to where he’d been sitting at a table only a few feet away.

“So what’s next?” Melissa asked.

“I’ll watch him for a few minutes then I’ll go over and make a move. Hopefully, this won’t take long.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty of singles.”

“Are you crazy? Put that money away.”

“Oh, you’re right. I shouldn’t be flashing my cash around.”

That, and I didn’t want any of the ladies to get the wrong idea. I didn’t know about Melissa, but there was no way I was going to put that money on any of the dancers.

“Too bad the guys aren’t dancing tonight. Now that would be fun.”

I smiled and nodded. Though for me, having a strange guy rub against me was too much like being back with my ex. You just knew he’d been rubbing those parts against God only knew how many other people. I wouldn’t have sex with my ex if he covered his junk with an entire box of condoms.

A man in his fifties, with gray hair and a beer gut to rival Jessica Simpson’s pregnancy belly, stumbled over to our table and offered us some wine and a good time if we both went back to his place with him. Though disgusted by the invite, we kindly turned down his offer. Unhappy with our response, the drunk called us dykes before stumbling off.