A Cutthroat Business by Jenna Bennett

Author:Jenna Bennett [Jenna Bennett]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Amazon: B004ZCIG64
Published: 2011-04-30T14:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12.

It was almost four o’clock by the time Tamara Grimaldi had finished all her interviews and got back to me. By then, most everyone else had been dismissed, except for the small crew of detectives scouring Clarice’s office for clues. I had spent a couple of boring hours preparing a 300 piece mailing to my ‘sphere of influence’ — everyone I had ever known, with the exception of my ex-husband and his new wife — to tell them I was a real estate agent and to ask if they would please keep me in mind if they were thinking of buying or selling. That done, I had descended into reading the tawdry romance novel I keep in my bag for just such occasions, and was just getting to the part where the muscled highwayman was riding off across the moors clutching the swooning form of the heroine to his manly chest when Detective Grimaldi appeared at my door.

“Ready to go?”

I had been ready for two hours, but I thought it best not to say anything about that. Instead I rose with alacrity. “Sure. Where?”

She waited until we were outside on the sidewalk before she answered. “Since Mrs. Jenkins already knows you, I thought you might want to come with me when I talk to her.”

I stumbled slightly, but told myself it was because of the heels on my shoes and nothing she had said. “We’re going to the Milton House?”

She glanced at me. “Is there a problem?”

I had to hustle to keep up with her long-legged and short-heeled gait. “Um... no?”

“You don’t sound sure.”

“No, it’s just that... well... Rafe Collier told me not to go back there.”

“What does Collier have to do with it?”

“Nothing that I know of,” I admitted, “but he gave me the distinct impression that he would prefer not finding me there again.”

Detective Grimaldi sniffed. “As long as you’re with me, I don’t see what he can do about it.”

He couldn’t, not while I was with her. It was later, when I was alone, that worried me. I decided against saying so. She thought I was wimpy enough already, and a complaint like that would only reinforce the impression.

“Haven’t you spoken to her already?” I asked instead. “With her being the owner of the house where the murder happened, I mean?”

Detective Grimaldi shook her head. “I spoke to Officer Spicer, and he told me all about Mrs. Jenkins. I didn’t see the need to waste my time or hers with an interrogation. I doubt she would have been able to produce anything coherent.”

Most likely she was right.

“I have to talk to her now, though.” She didn’t sound pleased about it.

“Sorry,” I said.

She smiled, not very nicely. “That’s OK. At least I’ll have you there, in the event things get difficult.”

Great, I thought.

The detective must have shared my low opinion of the nursing home, because I could see her aquiline nose twitch with disgust when we walked into the lobby.

“Tamara Grimaldi, Metro PD.” She flashed her ID.

The

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