Litany of Lies by Lexa M. Mack

Author:Lexa M. Mack [Mack, Lexa M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Indies United Publishing House, IUPH, Mystery, murder mystery, cozy mystery, who-done-it, secrets, murder blog, gossip blog, San Francisco, SFUndertheRug.com Series, Lexa M. Mack
Publisher: Indies United Publishing House, LLC
Published: 2024-02-27T13:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Beatrice had taken the garage door opener away with her the night before so they pulled into the driveway as the door slid open.

Beatrice went into her quarters to begin packing and Kestrel pulled the sleeve of her sweatshirt down over her hand and tried the door to the kitchen. It was locked. “Hey, Beatrice. Do you have a key to this door, and a pair of gloves?”

Beatrice came out of the bedroom. “Yes, I have keys to all of the doors in the house. I thought Inspector Burns said the house was off limits.”

“He did, but there’s nobody here and I’m not going to touch anything.” They stared each other down for several seconds before Beatrice sighed and plucked a key off the row of hooks on the wall inside her door, handing it to Kestrel. “There are some disposable gloves in that drawer,” she said motioning toward a cabinet in the garage. “I’ll be in my room not paying any attention to what you are doing that you shouldn’t be.”

Kestrel opened the top drawer of the cabinet and found a box of nitrile gloves, purple, no less. She pulled them on and carefully unlocked the door to the house, slipping the key into her pocket. She took her shoes off so that she wouldn’t be making any mess, or noise, or leaving any traces.

It was interesting to see how the very rich lived. She’d heard many tales of older members of the upper crust in San Francisco moldering away in their mansions on the hill. They had inherited these great old homes from Mummy and Daddy, and it was cheaper just to stay in them but it cost a lot to keep them up. This one wasn’t exactly Miss Havisham material, but it could have used some upgrading.

Kestrel was careful not to touch anything, just walking around the rooms looking for anything interesting. As usual, everything was currently dusted with fingerprint dust. Once when her house had been robbed she’d been appalled at the mess the police left when looking for clues. Somehow she’d thought they would clean up after themselves, especially since they basically concluded that there was no way in hell that she’d ever see her VCR again. But, no, not so much. Certainly, Greta Gardner wouldn’t be complaining about the mess.

Eventually she found herself at the bottom of the stairs looking up toward the “scene of the crime.” She heard Beatrice’s voice from the garage. “I’m going to be ready to go in about five minutes. Don’t touch anything.” Why were her friends all so bossy to her? She couldn’t imagine.

She climbed the stairs, careful not to touch the banisters, covered in powdery residue. She didn’t want to be smearing stuff or messing up the scene. There was only one door open on the top landing, probably the only room she’d need to look at.

She bumped the door farther open with her elbow and tiptoed into the room. Knowing Beatrice, she was pretty sure this was not how the room usually looked.

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