A Murder Too Close by Penny Mickelbury

Author:Penny Mickelbury
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penny Mickelbury
Published: 2016-07-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

“First Mike breaks into a murder victim’s apartment and steals crucial documents that might be evidence, then you steal what definitely is evidence from a murder victim’s actual body.” The way she said “body” and glowered at me almost made me contrite. Almost.

“Don’t forget, the first message in Bill’s flash thing-y was addressed to me.”

“Which you didn’t know at the time you stole it.”

“I wish you’d stop saying that word!”

“What word, Phil? Steal? That one?”

I knew Yo was well and truly pissed but at the moment I didn’t care; I was too focused on what we’d learned from Bill Calloway’s treasure trove of information, and what I thought was in store from Raul. I’d walked my usual route to work this morning, and made my usual stops along the way, including at Willie’s newsstand. Far from being upset or angry with me, he’d fixed me with his one-eyed stare and told me his nephew had “important words” for me, told me when and where. I told him I’d left my card with my numbers on it for Raul but Willie told me that Raul didn’t use the telephone. Not ever. I didn’t bother commenting on yet another of Willie’s nephew’s peculiar eccentricities; I was just glad he wanted to talk to me. I worried that he still was laying low, staying away from his job at the diner, and I was thinking maybe the reason would connect some of the dots that I saw leading from the fires to and from Big Apple Business Insurers, because Bill Calloway’s message to me had been that he’d been removed as the investigator of the Taste of India fire. No reason given. He also included e-mails from his immediate supervisor removing him from investigating three other fires in the last year. We weren’t certain yet but Yolanda thought all were on her list. And we knew that Jackie Marchand’s time sheets were signed by Thomas Kearney—the same Thomas Kearney who was Bill Calloway’s boss.

“What do you want to bet that if I’d left that flash thing in Bill’s pocket, it would right now be in a paper bag locked in an evidence room and we’d never know why Bill wanted to see me.”

Yolanda gave me an exasperated look. “That doesn’t make it all right, Phil.”

I looked over at Mike, looking for some support, but since he already was on her list for the break-in at Jackie Marchand’s, he had no intention of opening his mouth, causing her attention to be directed at him. He intensified his concentration on the Times editorial page.

“Okay, Yo,” I said.

“Okay, what, Phil?”

“I promise no more breaking and entering the apartments of DBs and no more removing evidence from DBs—but that’s only if no-damn-body else in this sorry show gets killed.” I was all but shouting. Yolanda doesn’t like shouting, a holdover from her childhood when her father spent most of his waking hours shouting, so I apologized for mine and almost immediately realized the reason for it,

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