01-A View to Die For (2012) by Richard Houston

Author:Richard Houston
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery: Cozy - Adventure - Missouri
ISBN: 9781301866021
Publisher: Smashwords
Published: 2014-08-04T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

The first step in connecting Bennet to the murders was to get the DMV check from Rosenblum. I needed some proof that it was Bennet in the Tracker boat who had been sneaking around Meg’s dock. Rosenblum still had the title to my motor home, so I decided to drive over to his office and kill the proverbial two birds.

By the time I pulled on to the highway toward town, I was beginning to wish I had kept my theory of the murders to myself. I was going to need a lot more than a boat and a pair of shoes to prove Bennet was the culprit. Then I saw the Pig’s Roast up ahead and impulsively pulled into the parking lot. With any luck, Linda would be working her shift.

The bartender from the day before was serving, and Linda was nowhere in sight. “Look who the dog drug in,” he said.

“Hi, Sam,” I said while taking a seat at the bar. “Did Linda get my message?”

He already had an open Coors for me. “Sorry, Jake. Better luck next time,” he said as he handed me my beer. “She took off with the roofer who’s been hanging around here. Came by this morning for her paycheck, and said they were on their way to California. But she did leave you this note.” He handed me a folded piece of paper with the same beautiful handwriting I had seen on the menu of the Rusted Kettle.

I looked around the bar to see who was listening then stuffed it in my back pocket and reached for my beer. “One more Dear John to add to my collection,” I said for the benefit of a couple at a nearby table. There were several more people at the window tables, but I figured with the juke box blasting out an old Dolly Parton classic that they were too far away to catch our conversation.

“Yeah, me too,” he answered with a sad voice. “My note said basically the same thing. I’m going to miss her big fat-ass bouncing around here.”

I started to say something almost as crude when we were interrupted by one of the patrons at the window table waving for Sam’s attention. Sam rolled his eyes, but not so the customer could see, and he headed over to their table. I put a five on the counter and headed out the door. “Catch you later, Sam. I’ve got an appointment with my lawyer,” I said.

Despite the white-lie I told Sam, I didn’t have an actual appointment with Rosenblum. His secretary acted upset when I barged into his office. I knew he had a secretary from the first time I had contacted him on my phone back at the Kansas rest-area, but this was the first time I actually met her. “I’m sorry. Mr. Rosenblum has a client right now. Was he expecting you?” she asked. She was flipping through what looked to be an appointment book.

She didn’t look like the sexpot I’d imagined.

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