CnC 1 Ghost of a Chance by Yasmine Galenorn

Author:Yasmine Galenorn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Large Type Books, Single Mothers, Occult & Supernatural, Women Mediums, Tearooms
ISBN: 9781587247590
Publisher: Berkley

Chapter Fourteen

Normally I would have expected her to freak out upon finding a dead body, but Harlow remained surprisingly calm. She tucked the hem of her coat around her hand and nudged the door open a little farther. Good, she was being careful. I heard her murmur into her cell phone before she stuck her head back through the door. “The cops will be here in a few minutes. I’m going to try to find the owner of this joint.”

As I took another look around, it occurred to me that perhaps the murderer was still hiding in the apartment. I peeked in the kitchenette and the closet-size bath. Nope. The studio was clear. The rolltop desk sat open, drawers toppled every which way, empty except for a scattering of calligraphy pens and pencils and splattered ink. With a queasy feeling, I noticed that the closest wall had been dotted with tiny drops of red—blood. Diana’s blood.

As I traced my steps back toward the door, a glint by one of the end tables caught my eye. I bent over to look. The shimmer was a silver cufflink in the shape of a crown. I longed to pick it up, check it for engravings, but the cops would have my head if I did.

Harlow hissed at me. “Someone’s coming. Get your butt out here!” Apparently she hadn’t found the landlady yet.

I hurried out to join her. Two uniformed men were striding down the hall.

“Over here, officers. We’re the ones who called you.” Hart’s voice was steadier than I trusted my own to be.

The cops gave us a long once-over, then turned their attention to the apartment. “Where’s the body?” The older cop had a knowing, tired look in his eyes, and I had the feeling he’d seen too many bodies lately.

I pointed. “The door was open when we got here. I went in, hoping to find Diana at home but instead I found her on the floor. I’m pretty sure she’s dead. There’s no pulse. We called the paramedics just in case, though. They haven’t gotten here yet.”

He and his partner took opposite sides of the door and motioned us away. I knew there was no one inside but didn’t want to admit that I’d rifled through the apartment, so we retreated far enough to be out of range. The older man pushed the door fully open and they went into what I had taken to calling their “search and secure” mode when I watched the police programs on the Discovery Channel.

After a few moments, the younger man—Officer Nelson—returned to the hall. He pulled out a notebook. We would have to go down to the station and give statements. The front door to the brownstone burst open, and the paramedics raced down the hall. It was too late, I thought. Diana wouldn’t be needing their services today.

We could hear them working on her as Nelson began to question us. After looking at our identification and noting our names and driver’s license numbers on his pad, he asked, “How do you know the deceased?”

“We don’t.

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