Night of the Cupid by Kirsten Weiss

Author:Kirsten Weiss [Kirsten Weiss]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kirsten Weiss
Published: 2023-04-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

We waited in the complex’s lobby for Sheriff McCourt. I didn’t trust Sal not to accidentally touch something inside the apartment. And as awful as it was, there was nothing we could do for Hannah.

Besides, if we stayed with the body I thought I might cry. The sense that this should have been preventable, that I could have stopped it, clung to me like a sticky film.

Magazines lay artfully arranged on the lobby’s low coffee table. Not a single fleck of dust marred its polished surface. The floor gleamed perfection. And upstairs, a body waited.

A knot tightened in my throat. You never got used to murder. I didn’t think I wanted to be the kind of person who could.

Frankie watched us from behind the tall guard desk. “She wasn’t home?”

“She—” I exhaled raggedly. “Was there a delivery for her earlier today?”

He nodded. “Oh, yeah. A box of chocolates.”

“Who delivered it?” I forced myself to ask. Telling myself that I’d failed, that I should have seen this coming, that I should have done something, wouldn’t help Hannah now.

“I dunno,” Frankie said. “Someone left it lying against the door this morning.” He nodded toward the glass door to the foyer.

The sun had slid behind the mountains. I couldn’t make out much beyond the windows in the darkening gloom.

“Delivery people do that sometimes,” he continued. “I called Hannah, and she came and got it.”

“Did you see who the delivery person was?” I asked. “A man? A woman?”

He shook his head. “Nah.”

“Maybe there’s a camera outside.” Sal rose from her chair and strode to the door.

“Something wrong?” the guard asked.

I wasn’t sure what to say. But he’d learn soon enough though. “I’m sorry. There’s no easy way to say this. Hannah’s dead.”

His broad face whitened. “But she was fine this morning. I saw her.” He strode from around his curving desk and toward the elevators. “I gotta get up there.”

“I’ve called the sheriff,” I said. “She should be here any minute. She’ll want you to escort her upstairs,” I lied. She’d want no such thing. But she wouldn’t want him accidentally tampering with the crime scene either.

“But… the delivery,” he said. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Maybe nothing,” I said. “There was an open box of chocolates near her body. I just thought—”

“Poison,” he croaked, and I nodded.

Sal returned inside. “There are cameras out here. They’re a little hidden, but they’re there.”

“Yeah,” Frankie said. “Yeah. Hold on.” He hurried behind his desk and tapped at his computer keyboard. “Okay, okay. Yeah. Got him. Look.”

We came to the high desk, and he turned the monitor to face us. “Look. It’s a guy.”

A male figure, his jacket collar up, a baseball hat hiding his face, walked down the covered walkway. With gloved hands, he set a slim box beside the door, turned, and exited the screen.

Sal grunted. “He knew that camera was there. Look. You can’t see his face. Or his hands. Or even his ears. Ears are very distinctive.”

“It’s definitely a man though,” I said.

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