Death By High Heels (The Kim Murphy PI Series Book 1) (6 page)

“Include me or…”

“Or what?”

“I’ll tell Detective Tompkins you’re interfering in his case?”

“Go right ahead, he already knows.”

“Fine.”

“Fine,” I said, feeling like I’d had this argument before.

Brandon called my bluff and reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Like every member of the Murphy family, Brandon had the Lakeview Police Department on speed dial. His finger hovered over the button, taunting me. I grabbed for the phone and missed.

“Ah, too slow. So what’s it gonna be?”

“All right, you can help, but I’m in charge, not you.”

“Fine,” he said.

“Oh, and you can’t tell anyone.”

“That’s too bad because I’d planned on them putting it on the morning news.”

“Funny,” I said. “Max’s Diner at one o’clock.”

“Cool, I’ll be there.”

“So, can I go now, or are you going to give me a field sobriety test?”

“Go. I know you’re not dumb enough to drive drunk.”

“You’re a good cop,” I said.

“I know. Be safe.”

“You too.”

Glad to escape, I drove home, careful to pay attention to all of the traffic laws, even the posted speed limits, which I normally tended to think of more as suggestions than actual laws.

Chapter Five

Tuesday

I was being chased by a giant cigarette when an incessant buzzing penetrated my subconscious. According to the alarm clock it was only six o’clock in the morning. No sane person would visit at that ungodly hour of the day. Fearing a family emergency, I got out of bed and rushed down the stairs. The buzzing began again.

“All right, already, jeez.”

I looked through the peephole and grimaced. What the hell was he doing here? For a moment, the idea of going back upstairs and crawling under the covers was oh so tempting. It was just too bad Grant was a cop and had probably already spotted my car parked in the back lot. A sudden banging on the door confirmed my suspicion. He’d never leave. There was only one way to make this problem go away, so I opened the door. Without a word, Grant stormed past me.

“Come on in,” I muttered.

“You just couldn’t stay the hell away from this case!”

“There better be a good reason you’re yelling at me at six o’clock in the morning.”

“Oh there is. Your fingerprints are all over my crime scene.”

“We already had this conversation. You know the only thing I touched was the lamp I tripped over.”

“I’m not talking about
that
crime scene. I’m talking about the one I just left.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Where were you between ten last night and four this morning?”

“Wait a minute. What’s going on?”

“Answer the question.”

“Not until you tell me what happened.”

“Kim, where were you?”

“Jeez, fine. I was at a bar for a couple of hours then I came home and went to bed,” I answered, trying to be as vague as possible. There was no way I was bringing Brandon into whatever the hell was going on.

“Alone?”

“Yes, alone,” I snapped.

“Too bad, at least you could have had an alibi.”

“An alibi for what?”

Not bothering to answer my question, Grant pulled a pen and small notebook from his suit pocket.

“I need times, places, and names of witnesses. If you have any.”

This was bad. Very bad. He still hadn’t told me what happened. The image of an orange jumpsuit and a bunkmate named Big Bertha caused my heart to race. I took several slow, deep breaths. I opened my eyes, with no memory of having closed them. “What happened?”

“Adam Mullen was found dead this morning.”

Grant said dead, but what he meant was murdered. This also meant I was a prime suspect—again. Otherwise, he sure as heck wouldn’t be here wasting his time yelling at me. Crap.

“How?” I finally managed to ask.

“You’re not in a position to ask questions. How did your fingerprints end up in Mr. Mullen’s home?”

“He was a friend of Brian Lewis’s, the dead guy in Lindsay’s apartment.”

“I know that.”

“Well, I went over to Adam’s to ask him about Brian’s murder.”

“Did he give you anything helpful?”

“Not a thing. Didn’t you talk to him?”

“No one answered the door when I went. After seeing the place, I can understand why he didn’t want to let a cop inside.”

“Yeah, I was only there a short time and I was afraid I’d get a buzz by just being in the same room.”

“I’d have paid to see that.” Grant smirked.

“Grant, he was fine when I left.”

“You had means and opportunity.”

“Fine, but what about a motive? I just met the guy. You can’t believe I killed him.”

“Kim, if I thought for a second you murdered him, we’d be having this conversation in an interrogation room instead of your apartment.”

He believed me. Tears streamed down my face. The last time, he hadn’t believed me, but this time was different. He wasn’t demanding a DNA test, an airtight alibi, and my fingerprints. Though, actually, he already had those, what with them being on file thanks to our previous encounter and my subsequent arrest.

I wasn’t sure why his belief in me was so important. I’d have to think about that later, but for now there was another dead body and a killer out there somewhere.

Grant left and returned with a handful of tissues. “Here, wipe your face.”

Just great, as if things weren’t bad enough, Grant got to have a front row seat to my crying fit. My eyes would undoubtedly be red and puffy.

“Thanks.” I used the tissues to wipe away the tears. It was just too bad they couldn’t make the burning in my eyes and the pounding in my head disappear.

“I’m still going to need that list of names.”

Unfortunately, it was a short list: the bartender and Angie. Though odds were the bartender wouldn’t remember me, I put him down anyway, just in case. This so didn’t look good for me but I refused to put Brandon’s name down. I got myself into this mess and I’d have to get myself out.

“That’s it?”

“Yeah. So how did Adam die?”

“We’ll have to wait for official word from the doc, but it looks like blunt force trauma to the back of the head.”

“Yuck.”

“Do you smoke?”

“Not anymore. Why?”

Grant’s cell phone rang before I could ask about the weapon. He glanced at the display.

“Shit, I’ve got to go, but we’re not done.” His look locked onto mine and for a moment I completely forgot how to breathe.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Sure, fine,” I choked out between coughs.

“All right, I’ll get in touch later.”

He left me there, embarrassed, confused, and preoccupied with inappropriate thoughts about the whole getting in touch comment. Crap.

Working out held no appeal, so I went upstairs and crawled under the covers. The next time I opened my eyes it was nine o’clock. With my priorities set, I started a pot of coffee and started for the stairs and a much needed shower, when the doorbell rang. Assuming it was Grant back for round two, I yanked the door open. Unfortunately, Lindsay stood on my doorstep looking perfectly groomed and pissed off.

“I paid you good money to find the monster that has ruined my life and instead you spend the day in bed.”

“Lindsay, I didn’t get to bed until after four this morning and I’ve already had a conversation with the police about your case today.”

“Good, you have been working. So what have you found out?”

“Right now I need a shower, some coffee, and a jelly donut.”

“All of that can wait. Well, maybe not the shower.” She sniffed. “But I need to know what you’ve learned.”

“I haven’t had breakfast, but, more importantly, I’ve had little sleep and no caffeine. Also, I’ve been interrogated by the police more times in the last few days than you can imagine. So maybe you can give me a break and I’ll be happy to fill you in later.”

“Fine. I didn’t feel like going into the office today, so you can reach me at the hotel.”

“Great, I’ll call you.”

Glad to have Lindsay and her overbearing perfume gone, I went into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. Nothing else was going to get accomplished until I sucked down some much needed caffeine.

Finished with my breakfast, I walked into the bathroom and groaned. Smeared lipstick, black smudges under bloodshot eyes, and hair sticking out in half a dozen directions was the scary sight in the mirror. I was impressed Grant hadn’t run away screaming when he saw me. Though, considering the icky, disgusting things he saw on the job, my face wasn’t so bad in comparison.

I couldn’t believe Grant had seen me like this. Just great. I stripped and stepped into the shower. I considered stuffing my hands into sandwich bags again but decided against it. I was willing to risk infection rather than fight to rinse the conditioner out of my hair. All too soon the water turned cool. Feeling human again, I toweled off and got dressed. To compensate for my earlier appearance I spent extra time applying my makeup. This meant I actually put on more than just lipstick and mascara.

Over my favorite Victoria’s Secret bra and matching panties, I pulled on a purple v-neck t-shirt and skinny jeans. With socks and shoes on I was ready to go. I grabbed my purse and headed out the door.

Two cups of coffee had been a good start but I was starving and needed something more. Desperate, I pulled into the McDonald’s drive-thru and ordered an Egg McMuffin, a hash brown, and a large orange juice. At my office I sat at my desk and gobbled down my breakfast. I tossed the empty wrappers into the trash and checked the machine for messages.

The first was from Lindsay, left shortly after her morning visit. The second was from Brandon reminding me of our one o’clock appointment. Like I could forget. Okay, I could have, but I hadn’t.

The third was from a woman who hired me to see if her
loving husband
was really a
lying, cheating bastard
. Evidently her hubby had called to say he was hanging out with a couple of his buddies after work. I would need to be at his office by five thirty in time to follow him.

Since following suspected cheaters around was how I made most of my income, it paid to always have a camera at the ready. A few times I had even hired someone to come on to the suspected cheater. This method had proven successful but cut into my profits. It didn’t appear the
bait
method would be necessary for this one.

I turned on the computer and deleted a bunch of junk emails offering to either enlarge or harden my nonexistent penis. The last one was from someone claiming to be from the FBI wanting to warn me there was a million dollars waiting for me in an account in Belgium but I needed to hurry before the account was closed. Yeah, right.

I began searching the websites of the local news stations. It seemed my luck was holding. So far only the one reporter had made a connection between Brian, Lindsay, and me. Unfortunately, I knew it was only a matter of time before the others made the connection and began hassling me, especially now after Adam’s murder.

Several months ago, when I’d been involved in a shooting, I was front page news for weeks. The press had seemed to take immense pleasure in pointing out I was the police chief’s daughter. Some business savvy people suggested I should consider it as free advertising for my agency. The reality was it had been a giant pain. I was not a fan of hunting, but if the government had open season on reporters, I would have seriously considered getting a hunting license.

The incentives to wrap this case up were increasing daily. The problem was I didn’t know what my next step should be. Though the causes of death were different in both cases, odds were they were connected. It was unusual for a killer to use more than one method to kill his or her victims but not completely out of the realm of possibilities.

Lindsay had hired me to solve one murder and now there had been another. I wondered if she’d be willing to pay extra for the new case. Probably not. Like I did with Brian, I went online and found out whatever I could about Adam Mullen. According to his grandmother’s obituary, Adam was raised by a single mother until she died when he was thirteen. From then on he lived with his grandmother in the duplex he still lived in today. Adam’s grandmother, Jocelyn Mullen, died last year after a long battle with breast cancer. I wondered if her illness was why he had turned the empty side of the duplex into a marijuana grow facility. Doubtful. From what Grant had said, there were enough plants in there to give a third of the town a buzz.

Besides three arrests for drugs—big surprise—Adam had a lead foot, five speeding tickets in the past year. His last arrest had been with Brian, David, and Kevin. One would assume he’d been clean since then unless they’d had the misfortune, as I had, to spend time in his home shortly after he’d lit up.

Jeez, this kid had had a tough time. He was only six years younger but it seemed like a much bigger age gap separated us. Since I was already snooping, or rather searching, court records, I began looking into his friends’ records and Angie’s as well.

Though there were a few little surprises, nothing stood out that shouted,
Look at me. I’m going to kill a bunch of people.
David’s arrests included petty theft, drug possession, assault during a bar fight, and drunk driving. His license was under suspension for the drunk driving offense.

Angie had two arrests for marijuana possession. The most recent was two years old. She also had received two speeding tickets three months apart last year. Other than that she was clean.

Kevin seemed to have gotten his life turned around. He only had the one arrest and zero traffic tickets. Good for him. Heck, even I couldn’t say that. I was a member of the lead foot society.

From the bits of information I had learned about the people in Brian’s and Adam’s lives, I wasn’t any closer to finding who killed them. I didn’t even have a possible motive for their deaths.