Death By High Heels (The Kim Murphy PI Series Book 1) (3 page)

Chapter Three

Monday

It was still dark when I was released from the hospital. Back home, thanks to a lift from my dad, I stripped out of my clothes then crawled under the covers. It was one o’clock the next time my eyes opened. A growling stomach led me down the stairs and into the kitchen. I started a pot of coffee then stepped outside to retrieve the newspaper. On my way back to the kitchen I noticed the flashing number four on the answering machine.

“Stupid reporters.”

Each message turned out to be from the jerk from last night. I took immense pleasure deleting each and every one before heading into the kitchen in search of something to eat. I had a tough decision to make—breakfast or lunch? Out of cereal and only one egg left, I settled on a bologna sandwich, a dill pickle, and a handful of potato chips. I sat in the kitchen and ate my lunch with several cups of coffee.

With lunch over, the idea of crawling back under the covers held great appeal. Sadly, that option didn’t get the bills paid. I ran upstairs; I took a quick shower, got dressed, and headed out. My office, like all the others on the south side of Wilmington Way, was a former ranch house converted into office spaces. On the other side of the street sat a grocery store, a gas station, a strip mall, and several fast food restaurants. A used bookstore and a library finished out the block. All the things a woman, well, this woman anyway, could want conveniently located.

When most people imagined a private investigator’s office, it was safe to assume, my office didn’t come to mind with its pink flowered wallpaper from the eighties and the mint green carpet. It reminded me of my grandparents’ old house. It was ugly as sin but the rent was cheap and the utilities were included.

By the front door was a reception area just big enough for a small desk and chair. Since my income was only enough to support me, barely, it sat empty. I walked through the building, flipping on lights as I went. More out of habit than need, I made a pot of coffee.

Sitting at my desk, I had absolutely no interest in getting anything accomplished. Tempted to call my friends, I looked at the clock. They were either busy at work or, in Melissa Richie’s case, still in bed sleeping. Melissa was a romance writer and she claimed her muse worked the night shift. Any of her friends suffering a crisis better be considerate enough to schedule it for early evening.

I had just lifted my mug when someone began banging on the front door.

“Crap. Just what I needed, a coffee stain on my favorite t-shirt.”

I stepped out of my office, hung a left, and walked past the empty reception desk. Before opening the door, I plastered on a half-assed smile. Lindsay stood face flushed, bags under her eyes, and strands of hair escaping her ponytail holder. She had her hand raised and was about to knock on my forehead. In the short time she had been my neighbor I’d never seen her with as much as a hair out of place. She had even unloaded moving boxes in full makeup and a pair of two-inch heels.

“Oh, thank God you’re here,” Lindsay said, brushing past me.

“Sure, Lindsay, come on in,” I muttered.

“Oh, Kim, you have no idea what I’ve been through.”

Probably not, but I had the uneasy feeling I was about to hear all about it.

“I can’t even stay in my apartment. Not that I’d want to after that horrible ordeal. Luckily I got that room at the Lakeview Inn.”

Yup, I was right. I was about to hear how tough her evening had been. “Let’s go in my office.” I turned and led the way.

“I would love some coffee,” she said, glancing down at the mug still in my hand.

Swell, she planned on staying long enough to drink a cup. I wasn’t sure I could spend that much time with her without killing one of us, preferably her. Since I was already a suspect in one murder it didn’t seem wise to push my luck. I should have known better than to complain about being bored. This was just the universe’s way of getting even.

“Cream or sugar?”

“Oh, black, please. Do you know how many calories are in cream and sugar?”

I had no freaking idea, but I wasn’t about to give up either one.

“Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”

I filled the mugs and resisted the temptation to dump some of the evil calorie-filled sugar into hers. Back in my office, I placed the mugs on the desk and parked myself in my chair.

“So, how can I help you?”

“That awful Detective Tompkins actually believes
I
killed that man.”

Good. Maybe that meant I was off the hook. It also felt awesome he hadn’t fallen for her little helpless act. Yay.

“Well,
someone
killed him and he was in
your
apartment,” I said.

“I didn’t do it. I swear,” she said, then burst into tears.

I sipped my coffee and waited for the waterworks to end. When she noticed her tears were having no effect on me, she wiped her face with a tissue and demanded I help her.

“This is a murder investigation. Let the cops handle it.”

“Look, Kim, I’m in trouble. I expect you to help me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Technically, the police found you with the body. I’d say you have about as much to lose as I do.” She looked around my office. “Well, maybe not as much, but I’m sure you don’t want to spend time in jail. So, I think you owe me this. I am willing to pay you.”

I really hated people who thought the world revolved around them.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. The police department won’t like my nosing around one of their cases.”

“Your dad’s the chief of police. What can they do to you? It’s not like they would arrest you or anything.”

“It doesn’t work that way. I get caught, I get locked up the same as everybody else.”

“Then don’t get caught. Here’s a check for three thousand dollars. I assume that’s enough to get started.”

She was obviously used to getting her way by throwing money at a problem.

“Lindsay, that’s double my normal deposit.”

“I don’t care. I need you to find who killed that man, and I’m willing to pay whatever it takes. I’m not letting my freedom rest in the hands of the police department.”

If I turned her down, I’d never get rid of her. She wasn’t the type to take no for an answer. The fastest way to get her out of my office was to agree to take her case, a mistake I’d probably live to regret. I should have handed her back the check and kicked her out.

A few minutes later, Lindsay left my office with a signed contract and a smug smile on her face that I could have done without. She drove me nuts, and it wasn’t her blonde hair and blue eyes. I was quite happy having inherited my father’s auburn hair and green eyes. Of the six kids, I was the only one to resemble our Irish father. My siblings had inherited our mother’s black hair and brown eyes. I wouldn’t have minded having their darker skin instead of the milky white I insisted on tanning, or rather burning, each summer.

I couldn’t believe after all the trouble Lindsay had caused, here I was helping her. She’d barely been there a week when she’d called the landlord to complain about the old guy in the apartment on the other end of the building. He was old and losing his hearing, so his television was turned up loud each evening while he watched the news. Instead of taking him to the doctor for a new pair of hearing aids, his kids had moved his television to the other side of the apartment, so as not to bother Lindsay.

Then a few weeks later she had called animal control about a stray cat and her kittens. They were too wild to let anyone touch them, but my neighbor, Mrs. Benson, always left bowls of food and water on her patio for them. She had been heartbroken when they were taken away. Needless to say, Lindsay had not endeared herself to any of us.

Sticking it to her checkbook was one reason I was helping her after all of that. The other, larger reason was I was nosy as hell and wanted to know how the dead guy ended up in her apartment. The thought that Lindsay was responsible flitted briefly through my mind. I couldn’t imagine the blonde neat freak killing someone and leaving such a mess.

After locking up my office, I drove to the bank and deposited the check. Normally my first step would have been to try to get information out of the detective in charge of the case. Grant was in charge and not exactly in a sharing mood, at least not about the case. I was going to have to figure out another way to get the information I needed. I’d also have to do this while avoiding my dad and half a dozen other family members.

There was only one person, not related to me, who could give me enough information to get me started. Back in my car, I followed Main Street south for several miles before turning onto Third Street. I drove past the brand new police station and fire station. A mile down the road, I turned into an empty parking lot, barely avoiding several large pot holes. In several places the brown paint had peeled off the front of the building. A small section of the gutter, above the door, was missing.

Inside, I made my way over to the front desk, where a gray-haired woman dressed in Pepto-Bismol pink sat reading a newspaper.

“How can I help you?”

“I, um, was wondering if Doc Gardner’s available.”

“That depends. What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Kim Murphy.”

“Well, you just hang on a sec.”

After a whispered conversation, she hung up and told me to take the elevator behind her to the basement.

Well, shoot, I hadn’t thought this through. How bad did I really want his help? Maybe I could return Lindsay’s money and go home. Yeah, right, like that was going to happen. My heart was racing. I hated elevators and yet there I was about to take one to the last place on Earth I wanted to be. I took a deep breath and stepped inside. Just as the doors closed I lurched forward, but it was too late. When the doors opened a few minutes later I found myself only a few feet away from the inside of the Lakeview city morgue.

I stood there, not moving, for so long the elevator doors started to close. I rushed forward and came face to face with Dr. Gardner.

“Kimberly, it is so good to see you again. Come in, come in.”

It was too bad I wasn’t as excited as he seemed to be. Wanting to avoid appearing like the coward I truly was, I stepped inside. The room was cold and filled with the scent of chemicals and God only knew what else. All but one of the tables was empty. Fortunately, it was the furthest one from the door.

“So, I bet you’re here about the gentleman from yesterday.”

“Yeah, I was hoping you could give me some information.”

“Well now, I just sent Detective Tompkins a copy of my preliminary report.”

“Anything in it you could share with me?” I asked.

“Afraid I can’t help. As you can see, I have a young gentleman waiting for me, but if you’d like to have a seat at my desk, I’m sure you could find some fascinating reading material.” He winked and turned around. Walking over to the back table, he began to hum.

Desperate to avoid watching him work, I sat down, grabbed the file, and began to read. After finishing, I grabbed a pen and jotted down notes on a scrap piece of paper.

The victim was identified as Brian Lewis. Time of death was between one and three p.m. yesterday. The toxicology report wouldn’t be available for several days. Not that it mattered. Drugs hadn’t killed this guy. The cause of death was listed as exsanguination. Brian had bled to death. The wounds had been caused by a serrated knife. There were no defensive wounds. It was as if the guy just sat there and let someone carve him up like a Thanksgiving turkey. I placed the file back on the desk and stood up.

“Thanks for the help. I should get going,” I said, avoiding looking in his direction.

“I trust you found it helpful.”

“You bet. I’ll show myself out. Thanks again.”

“No problem. Come back and visit anytime.”

As nice as Dr. Gardner was, I had no intention of ever going back inside there again—ever.

In my rush to escape the building, I plowed into Grant.

“Slow down there next time,” he said, stepping back, a smile on his face until he realized who I was. “Kim, what are you doing here?”

Under most circumstances, my ability to lie on the spot was second only to my skill of making a pan of fresh baked brownies disappear. Too bad my mind was a complete blank. I didn’t know if it was just bad luck or karma but my brain locked up and refused to reboot.

“Grant! What are you doing here?” I sputtered.

“I just asked you that. I’m doing my job. What about you?”

“I’m…uh…just, well, I was just visiting a friend.”

“A friend? I didn’t realize you were friends with the victim.”

Oh crud. I was busted. The inability to lie to him was beginning to make my life extremely complicated. “I was just curious, that’s all.”

“You are nosy as hell and one day it’s going to get you into trouble you can’t get yourself out of.” His eyes glared down at me.