Death By High Heels (The Kim Murphy PI Series Book 1) (20 page)

“You did what?”

“I put a virus on his computer. The next time he turns it on, he’s going to wipe out everything on it.”

“Wow. Why did you do that?”

“Taking pictures of ladies without their consent is crap. I’d be pissed if someone did that to one of my sisters.”

“Well, thanks.”

I took the things back from him and stood up to leave.

“Kim, it doesn’t take two people to return those things. Why don’t you pick me up later? That is, if you don’t mind.” Melissa had turned and addressed the last part to the grinning geek.

“I don’t mind at all. We’ve got beer and we could have a little party.”

“Melissa, he wanted us to have a threesome.”

And just like that she turned and was out the door. It was as if I’d dunked her in a tub of ice cubes. Having lived through the experience when I was a little girl, I would never ever recommend it. My parents had rushed me to the hospital in the middle of the night. The doctor, desperate to get my hundred and four fever down, had me stripped down and covered in ice cubes. It was hell. My skin felt like it was on fire.

“Wow! What an ass.”

“It’s why I only ask him for help when I absolutely need it.”

“No, I meant, like,
ooh what an ass
.”

“Oh.”

Back at the loser’s place I had Melissa serve as lookout while I put the things back. I had considered just tossing them, but then he could accuse Shandra of theft. As for the pictures, he certainly couldn’t tell the police someone had stolen pictures he had taken illegally.

I was eager to get this over with and get the heck out of Irving’s apartment. I put everything back and did a quick look around to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. I stepped outside and found the bane of my existence leaning against the wall, smiling.

“Miss Murphy, how nice to see you again,” Mr. Abraham said.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, looking around for Melissa.

“Oh, just enjoying a nice evening. What about you?”

“The same, and now I’ve gotta go,” I said.

“So, what were you doing here?”

“You know, if people keep seeing us together, they may get the wrong idea. Maybe you should go stalk someone else for a while—like forever.”

“Avoiding the question are you, Kim?” Mr. Abraham asked.

“We’re not friends and we aren’t related. So, I suggest you stick to Miss Murphy if you can’t fight the urge not to speak to me. Better yet, how about if we don’t talk again ever.”

“So is that yet another ‘no comment’ for the record?”

“Absolutely.” I stepped to the left to walk past him.

“It’s a bit weird the police chief’s daughter has become involved in so many questionable situations.”

“I think if you have been reduced to following me around, you might want to consider a career change. I hear McDonald’s is hiring. At least that is an honest profession.”

Back at the car Melissa screeched when I stepped up next to her. “Nice job as lookout.”

“Jeez, Kim, you scared the hell out of me. Hey, the loser didn’t show up. I was imagining being tracked by bloodhounds.”

“Great.”

“What took you so long?” she asked as we got into the car.

“That reporter showed up.”

“Here?”

“Yeah. I’m not real comfortable about that, but there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“So what did he want?”

“He asked a bunch of questions, and I refused to answer.”

“Thank God. The last thing you needed to do was to confess to breaking and entering.”

“Well, we didn’t actually break anything. So I say it should just be entering and we didn’t steal anything.” We both looked at the stack of pictures. “Those don’t count.”

“Absolutely.”

Back at my apartment building we drove around searching for evil reporters with microphones lurking about. Finding none, we decided it was safe for me to make a run, or at least a fast walk, to the door. Once we were inside, Melissa texted Charmaine to let her know the deed was done. Charmaine texted back to let us know she had just left Shandra and was headed to my place.

I tried to ignore the flashing numbers on the answering machine but couldn’t. I ended up pressing the delete button ten times in a row, accidently erasing a message from my dad. I called my parents and, after a short conversation with my mom, my dad came on the phone, and after a quick hello got straight to the point. Detective Tompkins would be contacting me soon. It seemed the ever annoying but hot as hell cop had more questions for me.

A few minutes later, Charmaine rushed in like a gust of wind. “Well?”

“It’s taken care of and Shandra has nothing to worry about.”

“Thank you both so much.”

“All right, who’s ready for some champagne?” Melissa asked.

Without waiting for an answer she jumped up off the couch and headed for the kitchen.

“Unless you plan on having some delivered you’re gonna have to settle for a bottle of whatever’s in the fridge.”

Melissa returned a short time later with three wine glasses and two full bottles of white zinfandel and a half bottle of chardonnay.

It didn’t take long before I began to feel the effects of the wine. I hustled Melissa into the guest room, and after grabbing some pillows and blankets, gave my room over to a very grateful Charmaine. Back downstairs I dumped my stuff onto the couch. I poured the rest of the white zinfandel into my glass and finished it off since it would have been a shame to waste it.

I curled up on the couch and turned on the TV, which was a big mistake.
Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives
was on, and, having skipped dinner, I was beginning to get a bit hungry, but with all the wine I’d consumed, food was out of the question.

The doorbell rang just as I was drifting off. Kicking off the cover, I stumbled to the door. On the other side of the peephole I could make out Grant’s face. I’d completely forgotten about my dad’s warning. It was never wise to talk to a police officer while under the influence of too much wine. My plan was to make up an excuse and send him on his way. I plastered a fake smile on my face then opened the door. “Grant, what a surprise.”

“Surprise? Didn’t the chief tell you I was coming?”

“Yes, he did, but since it’s so late I figured you’d wait until tomorrow.”

Grant looked at his watch. “It’s only eleven o’clock on a Friday night.”

“Well, I’m really tired. So, if you don’t mind, we should have this conversation tomorrow.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

“You invited me in.”

“No, I didn’t” Did I?

“Just like I figured. Have a bit of wine, did you?”

“You’re the defective. You figure it out.”

“I think you mean detective.”

“That’s what I said.”

“There are three wine glasses. Where are your drinking buddies?”

“Upstairs. Asleep.”

“And you’re sleeping on the couch?”

“Yup.”

Grant picked up one of the bottles. I walked over to take the bottle from him and stumbled. Grant spun and grabbed me. The force of my forward motion sent us both over. We landed with a thud onto the carpeted floor, narrowly missing a table and lamp. The only sounds were our labored breathing and our hearts beating as if we’d just run a marathon or engaged in another physical activity that was a hell of a lot more fun and mostly done in the privacy of a bedroom or, say, the living room floor. Laying on top of Grant, my earlier appetite for food was replaced with a hunger for something not food related, though I wasn’t ruling out the use of whipped cream.

“Kim, are you okay?”

“Yeah, are you?” I asked.

“Yes, except if you could move a bit. Your thigh is a little too close to my…”

Well, now that he’d mentioned it, that wasn’t the only thing that was close. Our lips were mere inches apart. I could feel his warm breath on my face.

“Oh, sorry.” I slid my leg down and Grant moaned. I shifted and found myself staring into his eyes.

I wasn’t sure who moved first, but suddenly Grant and I were in a lip lock. Our tongues touched and I wanted more. I slid across him like a desperate horny sailor on his first shore leave in six months.

Grant shifted beneath me and reached his hand between us, but instead of heading for my southern region he pulled his phone from his pocket. Grant looked at the screen and began to swear and mutter something about annoying drug dealers. “I’ve got to go.”

“Now?” I winced at the sound of desperation in my voice.

“Yes.”

Frustrated in more ways than one, I rolled off of him. Grant stood up and like a gentleman helped me to my feet.

“Thanks.” I straightened my clothes and avoided direct eye contact

Grant cleared his throat. “You should, uh, try to get some sleep.” He raised his hand and brushed his thumb across my lips. “Lock the door behind me.” He grabbed me and pulled me up against him. “You are too tempting.” He kissed my cheek then left without another word.

I locked the door and curled up on the couch, convinced God had either a twisted sense of humor where I was concerned or he really hated me. Why else would he send Grant over here to get my engine revved up only to send him away again before I could get a tune-up?

The last time I’d had a partner that didn’t require batteries was five months and two weeks ago. I didn’t know exactly how many days, minutes, or seconds, but I did know it was too freaking long ago.

Sex with the hot geek could have done the trick but I was afraid my mother was right and I was reaching that point in my life where great sex with a guy wasn’t enough. I shuddered at the thought. Just because thoughts of Grant popped into my head at inopportune times didn’t mean I wanted anything more than some hot, sweaty sex. Right?

I tossed and turned, trying to ignore the sexual frustration as well as the mental aggravation Grant seemed to provoke in me like no one else.

Chapter Eleven

Saturday

“Oh for the love of Hershey’s, who the hell is banging on my door?” I looked at the clock and groaned. It was four in the morning. Didn’t anybody sleep anymore? Thinking it might be Grant returning to finish what we’d started earlier, I pried my eyes open and stumbled to the door. “What is so important it couldn’t wait until a decent hour? Say, noon.”

“I thought you’d want to know the fire department’s putting out a fire at your office,” Michael said.

“Shit! I’ve got to find my keys.”

“You might want to put some shoes on too,” he said.

I looked down at my bare feet. Yup, shoes were definitely in order. “Just give me a minute.”

“One Mississippi, two Mississippi…”

“You’re so not funny.”

I grabbed gym shoes and my purse. In the kitchen I jotted down a note explaining my absence just in case Melissa and Charmaine regained consciousness while I was gone. Then I told Michael I’d meet him there.

“No way, I’ll drive.”

“No, thanks.”

“You’re riding with me. We need to talk.”

“Swell,” I muttered.

We got into his Dodge Ram. I waited for him to talk. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Well?” I demanded.

“Huh, oh, nothing.”

“But you said we needed to talk.”

“I just told you that so you’d get in without any more arguing.”

“You’re a jerk.”

“Yup.”

Michael glanced over at me and we both laughed. He parked in front of the apartment building next door to my office. Two patrol cars, a fire truck, and an ambulance filled the lot in front of mine. We walked up to the building but stopped at the police tape. One of the patrol officers noticed Michael and waved him in. I started to go under and the officer yelled for me to stop.

“It’s okay. She’s my sister and this is her office.” Michael lifted the tape and let me through. I got to the back door and stopped.

“Kim, are you coming in?”

“Yeah, I think.”

“Come on.”

I followed him inside. The fumes attacked my eyes and nose. Taking a deep breath felt like I was breathing tar into my lungs. Three firefighters brushed past me on their way out. None of them stopped to give me a hard time, so it was safe to assume none of them were family.

In my office, the chair, desk, and computer had all been burned, then been soaked by the firefighters. Not that I was complaining, thanks to them the rest of the place was intact, sort of. Someone had searched my office. Drawers were open and knickknacks had been knocked over.

I checked the file cabinets in the little storage room next to the kitchen. All the cabinets were locked and did not appear to have been tampered with. Thank goodness. I would hate to think someone had gone through my client files. I went back to my office and found Michael talking with the fire marshal, Terran Barber.

“It’s pretty obvious someone ransacked it then tried to torch the place,” Terran said.

We’d met, so we skipped the introductions and got right to the questions and answers part of the conversation. I was of no help whatsoever. The only thing I could tell him was about the knife in my tire and that I wasn’t sure if it was connected to this or not. He told me he’d be in touch and that I could have access to my office sometime tomorrow evening. I did learn there were signs of forced entry and that whoever broke in took out the alarm system.

Sometime during our conversation a man from the alarm company showed up, a bit too late to be of much use, or so I thought. He assured me he would board up the door and keep someone on the property to watch twenty-four seven until a new door and alarm system could be installed.

I thanked them both before Michael took me home. He parked on the street and asked me if I was okay. Not wanting to add to his worry, I lied and said I was right as rain. I didn’t think he bought it but at least he was kind enough not to push it. He did, however, apologize for our previous argument without any prompting, which showed just how worried he really was.

I took two Tylenol with half a glass of water, hoping to prevent a hangover. I slipped under the covers and was asleep within a matter of minutes. It was nine thirty when I woke up. My head felt a little fuzzy but was pain free. Since I was nausea free, there was a decision to make—Bill’s Donuts or McDonald’s. Unsure of when my houseguests would rise, the donut shop was the winner. After a quick trip to the bathroom, I grabbed my purse and keys and headed out, careful to check for lurking reporters. Back home, I walked toward my door and noticed the police tape was missing from Lindsay’s. Melissa and Charmaine were in the kitchen waiting for the coffeemaker to do its thing.

“Morning, ladies. That coffee will go great with these.” I showed them the box of donuts, but instead of the happy face I got when offered donuts, they both frowned and backed away. “Not feeling the love for the jelly donut I take it.”

“Kim, get those away from me,” Melissa said.

“Sorry.”

After the donuts were out of sight, I filled them in on the fire. They bombarded me with questions. I answered them as best I could over a cup of coffee. When we were all talked out we said our goodbyes.

When they were gone I settled down with more coffee and one too many donuts. When I felt like moving, I got up and did the dishes. Next to tackle was a week’s worth of laundry. I got the hamper and took it with me to what the landlord generously called a laundry room, but was really a closet with a washer and dryer in the kitchen. First up, I started a load of t-shirts and went back upstairs into my at home office to begin making calls.

An hour later my ear was red and sore from having the phone pressed to it for so long, but the pain was worth it. I talked to the insurance company and set up an appointment for later this week. The agent had been pleasant. I just hoped they covered the cost of everything. The furniture was easy to replace with a quick trip to Wal-Mart but the carpet would need to be replaced and the walls in my office would need to be cleaned. I had also called my office landlord, who was less than thrilled to hear about the damage, but he did promise to replace the door after we got off the phone. I gave him the fire marshal’s name and number. I also contacted the alarm company to give them a heads up about my landlord’s imminent arrival.

From my bedroom I grabbed the basket of jeans and took it downstairs. I transferred the shirts to the dryer and started stuffing the jeans into the washer. As always I checked the pockets before putting them inside. In one of the pockets I found the piece of paper from Sara’s apartment. In all the craziness I had forgotten about it. I got the laundry going and took it upstairs. It felt like déjà vu as I sat and tried to straighten out the picture, just like I had with the one from Angie’s. This picture was more than just similar to the other. The two pictures had to have been taken at the same time. A woman in a red dress showed up in both pictures. In both, the pictures were too damaged to make out her face.

What the heck was up with these pictures? Why did Angie and Sara both have them? Why were they crumpled? All these questions and not a single answer to any of them. Frustrated, I stuck the picture in my desk. This case needed to be looked at with a clear head. Since I didn’t have one I decided to take a break and catch up on chores. Over the next few hours, I got the laundry done and the entire apartment cleaned. The phone rang several times while I vacuumed, but I had chosen to ignore them all. With nothing left to do, stalling was over. I pushed play on the answering machine. After listening for a moment I hit
delete
. The message was from Mr. Abraham, the reporter from hell. It was the middle of summer but Miami had a better chance of getting two feet of snow than that idiot had of me returning his call.

I had also ignored a call from Lindsay. Not up to dealing with whatever drama she had lined up for me today, I skipped to the next message on the machine. It was from Brian and Sara’s mom. I called her back, unsure of what she could want. She answered right away and asked for me to come to her place. We agreed to meet in an hour.

Sweaty from the workout and chores, I took a shower so as to not offend Mrs. Lewis. There was no point in bothering with makeup. As for my hair, I dried it and stuck it in a ponytail. With a twenty-minute wait before I had to leave, I sat down with Karin Tabke’s latest book and lost track of time.

At Mrs. Lewis’s home, she let me in before I had a chance to knock. We took the same seats we had a few days ago. She offered me coffee, but I took a pass. The last thing this woman needed to do was wait on me like a proper hostess.

“So, Mrs. Lewis, what was it you wanted to speak to me about?” I asked, dreading the answer while knowing what it would be.

“I know you’re looking into Brian’s murder. My daughter, Sara, is missing. I want you to help the police find her.”

Sometimes it really sucked being right.

“Mrs. Lewis, I need to be honest with you. I’m not having any luck with your son’s case. Sara called me and asked to meet with me.”

“She did?”

“Yes, but when I went to her apartment she never showed. Did the police tell you someone broke into her apartment?”

“Yes. I don’t understand any of this. Brian was a good kid who got into trouble, but he turned his life around.”

“What about Sara?”

“She was an okay student in high school. She hung out with a wild bunch but then she went to college and got a job as a home health nurse. She’s doing well.”

“So you can’t think of any reason someone would want to hurt them?”

“No. Like I told the police, none of this makes any sense. Miss Murphy, I don’t have a lot of money but I have a decent job and I can make monthly payments. I could give you a few hundred dollars to start.”

“Mrs. Lewis, I’m sorry, I can’t take your money.”

“Please, it’s all I have.”

“No, I’m sorry, I meant, I’ll look for Sara. You keep your money.”

“But…”

“Don’t worry about it. So, let’s get started. I want a list of her friends, boyfriends, exes, place of employment. The faster you get that for me, the better.”

“Here, I stayed up all night. I wrote this up in case you agreed. Her boss’s name is at the bottom.”

“Okay, well, thanks for this. I’ll get started on it right away.” I stood up and Mrs. Lewis walked me to the door. Before she closed it I told her to try to take a nap, that wearing herself out was the last thing she needed right now. She smiled and nodded her head but we both knew sleep wasn’t going to come to her anytime soon.

A part of me had wanted to turn her down, but I couldn’t. The poor woman had already lost a son and now her only other child, a daughter, was missing. The kind of hell she was going through I couldn’t begin to imagine and hoped I never could.

Walking toward my car, I veered off, headed straight for Ed’s Barbeque Barn at the corner. It was well past lunchtime and I was starving. Just as I reached for the door I spotted a familiar face walking toward me. “Mr. Alberts, what a surprise.”

“Kevin, please. What are you doing here?”

I pointed to the building. “Lunch.”

“Oh yeah, me too.”

We stood in line and I did my best to keep up with my end of the chit chat. Sensing he’d ask to join me, I chose carry out instead. “Well, Kevin, it was nice to see you.”

“Oh, you too. I was wondering if you heard about Sara, Brian’s sister?”

“Yes.”

“It’s terrible. Mrs. Lewis is a real nice lady. Brian and Sara, they were good to her. I wish there was something I could do.”

“Maybe you could spend a little time with Mrs. Lewis, so she’s not all alone,” I suggested.

“That’s a great idea, Kim. Thanks. I guess I’ll see ya soon.”

“Yeah, well, gotta go. Bye.”

The last thing I needed was Kevin hanging around. He was nice but I was pretty sure my interests wouldn’t mesh with his, which I bet included smoking pot, eating pizza, and playing video games. Okay, eating pizza was pretty awesome, but that was it for me.

At home I grabbed a Diet Pepsi from the fridge and sat at the couch to eat lunch. Flipping through all the channels, I settled on an episode of
Finding Bigfoot
because it always made me laugh.

After lunch I went upstairs and went through the list Mrs. Lewis gave me. Some of the names on the list were also friends of Brian’s. That wasn’t so strange. What was strange was the other day Sara had called Brian’s friends a bunch of losers. Kind of harsh to say about people considered to be close to you as well.

There were five names on the list I had not come across during my investigation into Brian’s and Adam’s murders. All were women. I left messages for two of them and set up appointments for Monday morning with the rest.

Sara’s employer was a local home health agency. The name, We Care Nursing, seemed vaguely familiar. I couldn’t figure out why. No one in my family had used them. Maybe they had one of those annoying commercials that were so bad you forgot the name of the product or the company. I called and the receptionist transferred me to the weekend supervisor. The supervisor told me to call back on Monday. The president of the company was the only one I could speak with. I thanked her and hung up, frustrated.