Death By High Heels (The Kim Murphy PI Series Book 1) (15 page)

“Okay, I’m ready to listen.”

I looked at my mom; she smiled and nodded at me. That was all it took. I told them everything, from the moment Lindsay banged on my door, the first time, to what happened tonight. Well, almost everything, I neglected to mention my going into Angie’s apartment. I didn’t think that little detail needed to be shared with anyone, certainly not with my parents. The whole time I talked I stared at my hands, folded in my lap. I stopped talking and looked up at my dad. I could have sworn his eye twitched. I waited for a response. There were a few minutes of silence, then he asked my brothers and mom to wait in the kitchen for a few minutes. Brandon and Michael moved so fast they looked like jets taking off from an aircraft carrier. My mom, however, stayed right where she was.

“Sweetheart, I think it would be best if I spoke with Kimberly alone.”

“I’m sorry, but I disagree.”

Oh no, I did not want my parents to have a disagreement over me. “It’ll be okay, Mom, I’ll be fine.”

“Of course you will, Kimberly, your father and I want nothing but the best for you.”

My father sighed. If it was obvious to me, then it had to be to him as well—my mom wasn’t going anywhere.

“Yes, well, I know that you’ve been hired to look into Brian Lewis’s murder, but this is Detective Tompkins’s case. Now I don’t want any more interference from you. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, dear, she’s been hired to do a job, and it isn’t her fault if she and this detective of yours are running into each other, so to speak, while doing it.”

“Yes, but she isn’t a cop.”

“I know, but six months ago, that…monster would have gotten away with…”

My mom shuddered and looked up at the ceiling as if seeking assistance from a higher power. My dad reached over and clasped her hands. A smile passed between them.

“If not for Kimberly that monster would have been walking around, free to hurt more people.”

“I know and I’m grateful, but she also put herself in harm’s way. I’m sure neither of us wants that again.”

“Of course, but every day people I love go to work and put their lives on the line for people they don’t know. It is something I’ve learned to live with.”

What she hadn’t said was all those
people
were men.

My dad looked at me and back at my mom. “Okay, I understand.”

“Good, now I’m going into the kitchen and check on the boys.”

After she left my dad gave me a friendly reminder of what was acceptable and what wasn’t for a private investigator. He also made me promise to be careful and ask for help if I needed it. I promised and was grateful when the lecture was over. He stood up and gave me a hug.

We walked into the kitchen and found my brothers stuffing their faces with leftover parmesan chicken, pasta, and warm bread my mom had reheated for them. She offered me a plate and for once I actually declined. From the shocked expressions on everyone’s faces you would have thought I never turned down food in my life. Okay, well, maybe this was a first.

“After you’re all done here, I want you to go to the station and fill out reports about what happened tonight,” my dad said.

It didn’t take long for Brandon and Michael to finish off the pile of food and then we were off to the police station. The whole drive over, all I could think was please, please don’t run into Grant. My brothers and I were out of there in twenty minutes, and Grant was nowhere in sight. Yay.

“Well, it’s been fun,” Brandon said.

“I can’t believe I wasted my evening.”

“You know, if you two hadn’t followed me, none of this would have happened.”

“You’re blaming us?” Michael asked.

“Yes. No, no, I just meant if you hadn’t followed me, I wouldn’t have had to get a lecture from Dad and I wouldn’t have had to come here to fill out reports that could have been done at the scene.”

“You are unbelievable.”

“Michael, she’s sort of right. I mean, she didn’t ask us to go with her.”

“Jesus, you,” he said, pointing at me, “are a bad influence. Brandon, don’t get involved in any more of her messes.”

“Thanks, Michael, I’ll remember that the next time you need help,” I said.

Michael stormed off and got into Brandon’s truck.

“It’ll be okay. You know Michael, he’s a hothead. After he cools off, he’s gonna feel real bad about what he said. You’ll see.” Brandon gave me a quick hug then walked to his truck. I climbed into my car and started the engine. I smiled as I watched them leave the lot. No matter how angry, they hadn’t left until they were sure my car started.

It felt so good to be home. Inside, I headed straight for the freezer and the pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream I had bought at Wal-Mart. Thankfully, its time in the frozen rectangle had restored the minty goodness after its melting in the parking lot. I grabbed a spoon, kicked off my shoes, and curled up on the couch. When the container was empty I set it on the coffee table and grabbed the phone. I called Sara’s number and got her voice mail, again. I left another message, adding the part about the break-in at her apartment. I asked her to call me as soon as she got the message.

With that there was nothing else to do, at least for now. It had been a long day and it was time to call it quits. I tossed the container in the trash and the spoon in the sink, and then headed upstairs for bed. I stripped out of my clothes and pulled a men’s large Scooby-Doo t-shirt over my head, spent a few minutes in the bathroom, then crawled under the covers.

My head had just hit the pillow when the doorbell rang. I didn’t move and hoped whoever it was went away. I was in no mood to deal with anyone. When the doorbell rang again, I threw off the covers and stomped my way down the stairs.

I threw open the door and yelled, “What?”

“Are you going to invite me in?” Grant asked.

“No.”

“You’ve got such nice manners.”

“Grant, I’m tired and cranky. Plus, every time I turn around there you are. It’s annoying. So just say whatever you were going to say and leave.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Hah.”

“I can, and you could have called and saved yourself a trip.”

“If I’d called, I wouldn’t have been able to see you in your Scooby shirt.”

“Don’t dis Scooby.”

“I wouldn’t dare. I was just trying to decide if you were Daphne or Velma.”

“Wow, and what did you decide?” I asked.

“You’re like a spicy combo platter. You’ve got the Daphne hotness and Velma’s brains but sadly you’ve also got Fred’s whacky schemes on how to solve a case.”

I hated to admit that my nipples tingled at the hotness and the brains comment but then he just had to go and blow it. I certainly didn’t go around town setting up traps for people. The little voice in my head begged to differ. I quietly told it to stay out of it.

“Well, I guess I should go so you can get some rest,” he said after I yawned.

“Good idea,” I said while the voice was back and calling me a liar. “Shut up.”

“Excuse me?” Grant was looking at me like I imagined I looked at prunes.

“Sorry, just talking to myself.”

“Okay.” Grant lifted his hand and brushed a strand of hair from my face. Our eyes locked and I held my breath. “You are so infuriating, and yet I can’t stop thinking about you.”

I sighed. “Wait. What?”

“I have to go.” He leaned down and placed a kiss on my forehead. He then placed one on each cheek. My skin burned in the places his lips touched. My hands ached to trace along each and every inch of his preferably naked body.

He turned and walked away. I could have sworn I heard him muttering something about another damned cold shower. Good, I hoped he was as frustrated as I was.

Chapter Nine

Thursday

The next morning, I was jarred awake by something the radio station insisted was music. To me it just sounded a lot like chain saws, dental tools, and the lawn guy’s leaf blower. I turned the alarm off and considered staying in bed. After Grant left I eventually fell asleep and was plagued with nightmares. In the light of morning I couldn’t remember them and for that I was grateful. I jumped out of bed and got dressed in workout clothes, making sure to put my favorite sports bra on underneath. With a 36C chest there was no way I was going to exercise without one. I rushed down the stairs, grabbed my purse, and took off for Lakeview Gym.

Over the next hour, I was tortured by several evil machines. I wasn’t sure who the lying piece of crud was who had claimed some bull about endorphins. I did know if I ever got my hands on him, I’d beat the crap out of him. I assumed it had to be a guy because, let’s face it, a woman wouldn’t lie to other women about something that important. As I walked toward my car I wondered just how many calories I’d burn beating his sorry ass up.

Back home, I took a quick shower before getting dressed and putting my hair up in a ponytail holder. Before leaving I took a few minutes to apply lipstick and mascara. Not satisfied with the results, I went ahead and finished putting on my face. At the office I headed straight for the small kitchen. It was eight o’clock and I was desperate for caffeine. Not in a hurry to start the workday, I stood staring at the coffee maker, willing it to work faster. Finally, I filled my mug and walked into my office, flipping on lights as I went.

Settled as comfortably as possible in a desk chair, I flipped on the computer to find out what was happening in the world, or at least my little part of it. While I’d slept there’d been a garage fire, two driving under the influence, otherwise known as drunk driving arrests, and a domestic disturbance call. Not bad for a Wednesday night.

Lindsay’s idea that because she was getting her apartment back meant the whole thing was over for her was just stupid. She should have been asking her lawyer boyfriend about what happened next. Though I doubted they did a whole lot of talking. An image I fervently wished I could push the delete button on popped into my head. I just hoped it wouldn’t start a vomiting marathon. At the very least I wasn’t likely to eat anything for at least a whole hour.

“So, this is what the private investigator, busy at work, looks like.”

“Mr. Abraham, what are you doing here?”

“Kim, you know what I want.”

“That’s Miss Murphy to you and what I want is you gone.”

“Is that any way to treat the guy who’s been helping you?”

“You must be delusional if you think following me around and badgering me is helping.”

“We both have jobs to do. I don’t see why we can’t help each other.”

I stood up and pointed at the door. “I’ll agree to help a reporter the day Paris Hilton earns a PhD.”

“Funny, can I quote you on that?”

“Get the hell out of my office.”

“Or what, you’ll call the cops? I can’t imagine you’d want their help at the moment.”

“You’d be surprised at what I’d do.”

“Oh really, do tell.”

“Get out!” I reached for the phone.

“Okay, okay, I get it. You don’t have to make this so hard.”

“I’m dialing.”

“Fine. Just remember me when you’re ready to talk.”

“Sure, you’ll be the first one I call.”

Without another word, he turned and left. I guessed he didn’t appreciate sarcasm. I grabbed my mug and headed for the kitchen. Skipping breakfast had been a mistake. My stomach growled and I wished I had stopped at McDonald’s on my way into the office. A quick look at the clock and I groaned. Breakfast was only available for one more minute. Not even with my driving could I manage that. If Abraham hadn’t shown up, I could have made it in time for a Sausage McMuffin, yet another reason to dislike him. On the plus side, I could get a Big Mac, fries, and a large Diet Coke. When my stomach growled again I took it as a sign I was meant to go.

Round trip took eight minutes, five of which were spent in line. The smell of fries had been too tempting to wait. I dug into the bag while the nice drive-thru lady was warning me they were hot. I would sure as hell hope they were. Cold fries were disgusting.

With my breakfast of lunch foods over, it was time to get to work. Since I was getting nowhere on Brian’s and Adam’s murders, I needed a break. I also needed to do a job that would pay the bills. I had a small cushion in the bank but refused to touch it unless there was an emergency. Some women spent a fortune on shoes but I preferred to spend my money on a new gun. A girl could never have too many Glocks, or maybe that was just me. I opened the file cabinet and pulled out a sheet of paper filed under A for Mrs. Janet Mitchell-Weaver-Evans-Adkinson. I grabbed my purse and headed out.

I got in my car and entered the addresses into Mapquest on my phone. It was maybe less efficient than putting the info into the GPS but I feared hearing that voice one too many times would cause me to take out my gun and shoot it. My trip ended on the east side of Lakeview in one of the more affluent neighborhoods. In other words, these people had bought mini mansions on lots the size of an iPhone. Sure the miniscule lots meant less yard work, but spending that much money on a house and being able to shake hands with the neighbors without even having to leave it was just plain stupid.

I parked several houses away from my target and did a silent prayer I’d be done before someone called the cops on me. To help sell my innocent vibe I grabbed my cell phone and pretended to talk. Ever since Ohio passed the law making it basically illegal to use a cell phone while you were driving, more and more people were pulling over to take calls and texts. I had done a bit of research and found out the lady I was watching had been married for twenty years—to four different guys. Each one had been more successful or wealthy than the one before. It seemed much like Maria. This lady slept with and married any guy with a big enough bank account and a working penis. The last part was purely conjecture on my part. Despite the heat I shivered. The last thing I wanted to be thinking about was anybody else’s sex life, especially when my own had been rather bleak for longer than I would have admitted out loud.

It wasn’t long before my target made an appearance. Dressed in a purple sweat suit and gym shoes, Janet got behind the wheel of her bottle green Jaguar and zipped out of the driveway without a glance my way. I tossed the cell phone onto the passenger seat, started the car, and turned around in the nearest driveway.

On the freeway I had a habit of considering speed limit signs as merely suggestions. In neighborhoods with kids and pets likely to dart out I considered them the law. Which, of course, they were, but I actually treated them that way. As Janet zoomed through her neighborhood it didn’t appear she considered others in her rush to wherever the hell it was she was going. I said a quick prayer to God, Jesus, and Mary before stepping on the gas pedal. Asking all three was a bit extreme but I figured it couldn’t hurt.

We drove through town, turning left and right until finally Janet pulled into the parking lot of a hotel just over the city line in Deer Creek. At one time Deer Creek had lived up to its name. Now, thanks to all the construction projects over the past fifteen years, the deer had been forced to live in a small area to the south or had been driven out completely.

The hotel Janet walked into had fireplaces in the suites and offered real food for room service. This was about as far as you could get from one of those dumps that charged by the hour.

I parked close enough to have a view of her car and prepared myself to wait for her return. In recent months I had made several attempts to get inside the hotel and get information about their guests. Now, my picture, taken by an employee with a cell phone, was posted at the front desk. It had been strongly suggested I not return as anything other than a paying guest or I would be arrested for trespassing. I figured as long as I stayed in the car I wasn’t committing any crimes. At least I sure as hell hoped not.

A large part of my job required patience, not exactly something I was particularly known for. Just ask my friends and family. Though when tied to keeping me supplied with Hershey’s chocolate, a roof over my head, or my very existence, I could somehow manage it. I rolled down all the windows before shutting off the engine. I grabbed my iPod from my purse prepared to settle in. If it was a quickie, I figured that would give me twenty minutes or so to enjoy the awesomeness that was Kelly Clarkson. If they actually bothered to have a conversation, then I could
enjoy
the free sauna in my car. I was so glad I’d spent time putting on makeup this morning.

Fifty-five minutes and two bottles of water later, Janet and an older gentleman exited the hotel. I grabbed my camera and was able to get several nice shots of the two of them swapping spit in front of the hotel. Nice, but I had to swallow the urge to gag. Though Janet wouldn’t be carded for cigarettes ever again, this guy was old enough to be her father, or worse, grandfather. Yuck. I stuffed my iPod and Racy Red nail polish into my purse and started my car, grateful to once again have air conditioning. I even welcomed the blast of hot air that shot out of the vents, knowing that soon it would feel like a winter day. Awesome.

Janet’s next stop was only three blocks away. She parked in front of the dry cleaners and went inside, returning a few minutes later with an armful of clothes. Once again I was able to get several shots of her. Next Janet and I parked in the lot of a local organic grocery store that charged three times the price for a gallon of milk than my local Wal-Mart. I had made the mistake once of running into their sister store near my apartment, desperate for a can of mushrooms. Sadly my spaghetti sauce seemed lonely and sad without them. There was no way in hell I’d pay eight dollars for ten ounces when I normally paid a dollar fifty.

This time I parked under a tree that was kind enough to provide shade, and, as an added bonus, a small breeze kept me from baking in the car. Janet returned pushing a half-filled cart in half the time she had spent inside the hotel. This was going so much better than I’d thought it would. Before returning home, Janet went next door to the smoothie shop and got herself a treat. I hoped she enjoyed it because once my client got these pictures she’d need to add a bit of alcohol to that smoothie, though I wasn’t sure she’d be able to afford it soon. Not my problem, I reminded myself.

Back at her house, I got another dozen pictures of Janet carrying grocery bags and a case of bottled water into her house. It had been so kind of her to leave the garage door open. I’d have to remember to thank her. Huh, probably not. My client would be thrilled. Janet had supposedly slipped and fell in a jewelry store and
injured
her back. At least that’s what her lawsuit had claimed. I’d been hired by the jeweler’s insurance company and attorneys to get proof she was quite capable of lifting heavy items and running her own errands. My pictures would prove her claim of being unable to lift anything heavier than a hair dryer was a lot of hot air.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

I jumped at the booming voice coming from a man who would have to use a step ladder to reach the top shelf in my kitchen cabinet. So did I, but, well, I wasn’t a guy. I pressed the buttons and rolled up the windows. Though he couldn’t do anything about his height, he could have chosen something other than a red track suit and an absolutely horrendous toupee.

“Hey, I’m talking to you.” He tapped on the glass window as if I hadn’t heard his yelling. “You can’t take pictures of people’s houses. I’m calling the cops.”

Since he was leaning against my car, I couldn’t drive off. A bit of diplomacy seemed in order. I rolled the driver’s side window halfway down and politely informed him I was not breaking the law.

“That’s bull. Give me that camera!”

There was no way I was about to hand over what could possibly be my only chance at catching Janet in her lies. I turned the key and started the car. He grabbed the car handle and tried to open the driver’s side door. With the car still in park, I gunned the engine, hoping to scare him off. Mr. Nosy Napoleon Complex’s shouts drew the attention of several neighbors, including Janet. I put the car in gear but he refused to let go of the handle. It took several seconds to do the math in my head to see if my driver’s license could handle the points I’d get for running over this idiot’s foot. To my dismay I had way too many points to risk my license for the momentary satisfaction I’d get.

Unsure of my next move, I looked around and spotted a group of neighbors huddled close by, taking in the commotion. Desperate to get out of there, I released the door locks and shoved my door into Mr. Nosy Napoleon, knocking him back just enough that he let go of the door handle. If I was careful there was just enough room for me and my car to squeeze through. It should have worked, and would have if a giant tanned wall of a human hadn’t taken advantage of the unlocked door and plopped into the passenger seat, knocking my camera onto the floor. I grabbed the camera, took out the memory card and put it in the only safe place I could think of—my bra.