Charlotte Adams Mysteries 3 - Death Loves a Messy Desk by Mary Jane Maffini

Author:Mary Jane Maffini
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Cozy Mystery
Publisher: Penguin USA, Inc.
Published: 2012-05-08T03:04:44+00:00

13

If you are interrupted reading a document,

use a sticky note to mark where you left off.

You won’t lose time finding your place.

It’s bad enough to wake up covered with blood, but even worse if someone is slapping your face. Much worse if that someone is Nick Monahan.

“Pepper is going to be so pissed,” he said, scratching his handsome blond head. “What were you thinking, Charlie?”

I sat up a bit too quickly, and my head spun. “Why should Pepper be upset? I’m the one who got bashed in the head.”

“With a stapler, looks like,” Nick said.

Have I mentioned that Nick is not the brightest bulb in the chandelier? “You’re right, Nick. It is a stapler. You really are a detective.”

“Aw, Charlie, I get lots of mean at home. Don’t say stuff like that.”

“Forget it. Where’s Dyan?”

“Who’s Dyan?”

I took a deep breath. After all, this crisis wasn’t really about me. “She’s the injured woman. That’s why I called 911 and spoke to Mona.”

“Someone must have whacked her with the same stapler they hit you with.” Nick picked up the stapler, which had a bit of blood and dark hair on it. Mine, I thought.

I said, “That’s evidence. Aren’t you supposed to leave it for the crime scene techs to bag?”

A sharp intake of breath from Nick. At least he had the sense to look embarrassed as he dropped the stapler.

It’s hard to believe anyone wouldn’t know this, let alone a third-generation Woodbridge cop, currently pretending to be a detective. But then again, it was Nick. Chances were that he’d zoned out during the relevant training sessions.

“You better tell them you moved it,” I said. “They’ll find your prints on it.”

“They’ll find yours, too,” he shot back.

“They will not. I didn’t knock myself out with it.”

He frowned, pondering that. “I’ll think of something.”

A man and a woman in white paper suits, blue booties, and what looked like latex gloves waddled into the office. Someone at the police station was on the ball. The woman had a camera, which she raised to take a picture. Nick the Stick leaped to his feet and jumped back out of the room. “Don’t want to get in your way.”

Right. More likely didn’t want Pepper to come across a shot of him face to face with me, even if I could feel a trickle of blood running down the side of my face. Probably not a good look for me.

I said, “Please tell me, where is Dyan?”

The technicians exchanged glances.

“Dyan?” I repeated.

“They took her away.”

“And was she . . . ?”

“Didn’t look good.”

Nick stuck his head back in and said, “I think there are paramedics here to see you, too.”

“I’m all right,” I said, struggling to my feet. It’s just a—” I stumbled and hit the floor, jarring my spine. It would have been worse if that pile of paper hadn’t absorbed the shock of my fall.

Nick said, “Aw, come on, Charlie. Stop fooling around. They’ll take you to Emergency and get you fixed up before we haul you into the station for questioning.

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