Death By High Heels (The Kim Murphy PI Series Book 1) (19 page)

“I guess. You know you used to be a bit more fun.”

“I guess I’m having a bad week.”

“Really? It seems pretty typical for you lately, anyway.”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

“Sorry.”

“Why? It’s not your fault I’ve become a trouble magnet.”

“Well, we all have our strengths.”

“True. I guess yours would be looking like a bad guy in a comic book.” I pointed at her outfit.

“Funny. Fine, Kim, I’ll change. I can take a hint.”

A few minutes later and dressed in normal clothes, jeans and a shirt, Melissa led me to the garage. For a brief moment I feared she intended we take the Rolls Royce, but instead she led me to a newer model white Toyota Corolla.

“Where did this come from?”

“A friend of a friend’s cousin’s brother-in-law.”

“What?”

“Trust me. You don’t want to know.”

She was probably right so I let it go. Besides, there was a more urgent matter at hand. “Fine, but I’m driving.”

“Kim, that’s not fair.”

“What wouldn’t be fair is if your driving got us killed before we could help our friend.”

“I’m not that bad.”

I covered my mouth with my hand and coughed the word
bullshit
. She simply rolled her eyes at me then handed me the keys. “Thanks.”

The loser’s apartment was ten minutes south of Melissa’s house and just past the Victoria’s Secret call center. Now, I appreciated a good push-up bra like anybody else, but how much underwear could the world’s women order that kept that parking lot packed twenty-four hours a day?

We parked on the street two buildings down from the one we needed. Trying to walk casually down the street when you knew you were about to do something illegal was a bit easier than one would imagine, especially if you’ve had lots of practice. You just needed to get yourself in the right frame of mind. What almost always worked for me was the terrifying thought of getting arrested and having to share a toilet, out in the open, with a cellmate named Big Betty, and I didn’t mean Betty White. I had no idea what Melissa’s motivation was, but since she wasn’t giving off any scared shitless vibes, she must have been okay.

The loser lived in a three-story, orange brick building with beige siding and matching shutters. Three white steps led up to the front door. Inside the entryway the walls were painted a pastel blue with a flower wallpaper border. Irving had invited Shandra’s friends over for a small party shortly after they started dating. I hadn’t been all that impressed but had kept my opinion to myself. He had seemed friendly enough, but, for whatever reason, in the seven months they had been together, I’d never changed my mind about him. I only wished for Shandra’s sake I’d been wrong.

The apartment we needed was on the top floor, but since the building didn’t have an elevator I gladly led the way up the three flights of stairs. When we got to the top I was pleased to be able to talk and breathe without huffing and puffing. It appeared the workouts were actually working. Damn, now there was no excuse to quit. I glanced over at Melissa and my impressive feat no longer seemed quite as impressive as she appeared ready to climb a few more flights.

Melissa knocked on the door and waited. No one answered. She tried again just to make sure. When again there was no answer, Melissa moved to stand behind me as both a shield and a lookout. I used a set of tools that if found in my possession would be an automatic trip to the pokey. In less than thirty seconds I had picked the lock, gotten us both inside, and deactivated the alarm.

“Wow, Kim, how did you do that so fast?”

“Practice. Lots and lots of practice.”

She arched her eyebrows at me.

“Here, put these on,” I said, handing her a pair of latex gloves.”

“Ooh, thanks. With his obvious lack of housekeeping skills, I was a bit worried about catching something.”

“They’re so we don’t leave any fingerprints. Also, be careful not to disturb the dust.”

“You know, this takes a whole lot more than I thought.”

“Exactly. Now, let’s get this done before he comes home.”

“Kim, relax. He’s at a bachelor party. He won’t be home for hours, and when he does make it home he’ll be too drunk to notice us. Hell, he’d probably think we were the strippers.”

“Oh, wow, getting mistaken for a stripper. What a lucky day.”

The apartment was just how I remembered it, except now there was a thin layer of dust on everything, dirty dishes were piled in the sink, and a laundry hamper overflowed with dirty clothes.

“Yuck. This guy lives like my ex,” Melissa said.

“Which one?”

“Number two, Miss Smart-ass.”

“Nice mouth.”

“Thanks.”

I sent Melissa off to search the bedroom and bathroom while I tackled the living room, kitchen, and dining room. The place was small and unlike my great aunts’, who insisted every flat surface was a place to show off some piece of crap they had picked up from a flea market. Without having to pick through a ton of knickknacks and crap, I made quick work of finding the loser’s camera and laptop.

“Hey, Kim, come here.”

“Hold on a sec.”

“I really need you to come here. Now.”

“Okay, okay.”

I walked back to the bedroom and found Melissa standing in front of the dresser with the bottom drawer open.

“You are not going to believe this.”

“What?”

Instead of answering, she pointed at the open drawer. I walked over and leaned down to take a look.

“Oh jeez!” I straightened up and took two steps back, trying to put some distance between myself and the drawer full of sex toys. I didn’t consider myself a prude but that didn’t mean I wanted to be up close with someone else’s things. I also didn’t want to consider my friend and that drawer, but what really bothered me were the photos of women—some were naked, others were wearing costumes. “We need to take those.”

“You mean we need to destroy those.”

“That too. Did you find anything else?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, let’s get out of here.”

“Thank God.” Melissa grabbed the photos and we left the bedroom.

I did a quick look around. Seeing nothing amiss, we let ourselves out, but not before I grabbed the camera and the laptop. Neither of us said a word until we were in the relative safety of the car.

“Holy crud.”

Leave it to the writer to come up with the perfect words for the situation. Unsure of what to say, I chose to say nothing.

“I need a drink,” she said.

I looked at the clock, then at her. “Too early.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Nope.”

“Thank God.”

“Don’t get too excited, we have a couple of stops to make first.”

“Swell.” She groaned.

“Just suck it up.”

“That was my intent, or rather, suck it down.”

We took off the gloves and stuck them in an empty Wal-Mart bag. I yanked my cell phone out of my pocket and punched in some numbers. After two rings Ryan answered the phone, not with a usual greeting one expected when placing a call. Instead, I was instructed to bring a six pack of beer and a bag of Cheetos. I pushed
end
and stuck the phone back in my pocket.

“So where are we going next?”

“You’ll see.”

Four blocks away I pulled into a drive-thru. I bought the requested items and added two Diet Cokes, two Hershey’s Bars, a bag of Doritos, and an additional six pack of beer. While I waited for my receipt I found myself once again thinking about how odd it was you could buy alcohol without getting out of your car. It was kind of like those fireworks sales where you promised not to use them in the state in which you were buying them. What the hell was up with that?

I handed my purchase off to Melissa with strict orders not to open a beer. The last thing either of us needed right then was to get pulled over with stolen property and an open container in the car. With my chronic case of lead foot, getting pulled over was a very real and common possibility.

Ten minutes later I pulled up to a mansion in the ritziest part of town. It was the neighborhood next to Melissa’s. These places made a modest three-bedroom, three-bath brick ranch house look like a house for Barbie, only not as fancy and without the elevator. I parked in front of the guesthouse, which was an exact mini replica of the main house, down to the red brick, white pillars, and arched entryway. Melissa grabbed the Cheetos and one of the six packs while I slipped on another pair of gloves and grabbed the camera and laptop.

“What are we doing here?”

“You’ll see.”

Before either of us could ring the bell, the door was opened by the hottest geek God had ever created. He truly was a masterpiece. With piercing blue eyes, blond hair, and a six pack of his own that you could bounce quarters off of. You could almost forget about his need to attend Star Trek conventions in costume or the fact that he drove a powder blue Prius, but the deal breaker, for me at least, was that the twenty-eight-year-old’s only source of income was a trust fund that he spent with abandon while living in his parents’ guest house.

He ushered us inside. I had to give Melissa a gentle but firm shove to get her moving. He closed the door behind us.

“Ladies, have a seat.”

Before I could take a step he put his hand on my arm and whispered, “If I’d known you were bringing a hot friend with you, I would have asked for a threesome instead.” He chuckled to make it seem as if he was joking but we both knew better.

“Too late to renegotiate.”

“Bummer. Maybe next time.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Like never.

A threesome was beyond my comfort zone. I may not be the best Catholic girl on the planet, but figuring all the sins I’d already committed, I didn’t think my eternal soul could handle much more. Although if Grant was an identical twin, I was almost positive God would understand.

I brushed past Ryan and sat in a chair instead of on the couch next to Melissa. I didn’t think it wise to give him any visual stimulation. The last thing he needed was encouragement of any kind.

“So, what do you have for me?” Ryan asked.

“I need some pictures on this laptop and camera deleted,” I replied.

“Cool. What kind of pictures?”

“Some adult photos.”

“You brought me porn? Awesome. Maybe it isn’t too late to renegotiate after all,” Ryan said.

“Wipe the smirk off your face. It isn’t porn. These pictures were taken without the woman’s knowledge or consent. Got it?”

“Oh, sure, no problem.”

He walked over to me and took the camera and laptop before heading into his tech geek cave, which was really just a big room with dozens of electrical gadgets, computers, monitors, and a giant, flat screen TV with an Xbox 360, a PS3, and a Wii U. Not quite as sexy as the Batcave but it would have to do.

“So are we just supposed to sit here and wait for him?”

“Yes.”

“Great.”

“Sorry this part isn’t exciting enough for you.”

“That’s okay. Besides, I’m not supposed to have fun. We’re helping a friend.”

“I’m glad you remembered that.”

“Of course I remember. I’m not selfish.”

There were many adjectives that could be used to describe Melissa, rich, funny, annoying, and frustrating, but selfish was definitely not one of them.

“So what’s his deal?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s hot but he dresses like a nerd,” she said.

“There are hot nerds.”

“Oh really? Name one besides this guy.” Melissa looked over at me. “Well?”

“I’m thinking.”

“So what’s up with the two of you?”

“Nothing,” I lied.

“Ooh, spill.”

I looked to make sure he wasn’t heading back. “Fine, we almost had sex once.”

“What?”

“It was just too weird.”

“Weird, huh? So, what, did he want you to dress up in Star Trek costumes?”

“Yuck, no.”

“Then what?”

“I just kept thinking his parents were going to walk in on us.”

“Oh jeez, that’s sad.”

“Tell me about it.”

“So what’s with the guesthouse with enough antiques to give my Aunt Jenny an orgasm?”

“Shh, he’s coming back.”

“Would you like me to leave the two of you alone?”

In response I glared at her. She covered her mouth with her hand, but I could still hear the laughter.

“Whoever owns this stuff has great taste in women, but he’s a giant jerk,” Ryan said.

Personally, I was thinking of something a lot stronger than jerk to call Irving. “Were you able to erase the pictures?”

“Sure, that was easy. The tricky part was loading a virus on his computer.”