Nothing Left by Blake Pierce

Author:Blake Pierce [Pierce, Blake]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blake Pierce
Published: 2023-07-17T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Only a minute after leaving the apartment to the left, Juliette was tapping on the door of the apartment to the right of the murder scene. She hoped these angry neighbors would be home. The husband, in particular, sounded like someone who could have snapped and committed murder.

She waited, feeling ready for anything as footsteps approached. Then, with a bang, the door was flung open, and there stood a woman in her thirties with a pretty, heart-shaped face that was marred by an annoyed expression. In the background, Juliette picked up the aroma of baking bread.

"Police? Again?" she declared in a way that reassured Juliette the police had done their job this side, even though the notes from the interview had not yet found their way into the case file they'd been handed earlier.

"We're FBI," she said, showing her ID. "And you are?"

"I'm Paola Murano," the woman said. She spoke in accented English.

"Do you live here with anyone?"

"Yes. I live here with my husband, Costa Murano," she retorted grumpily as if annoyed by the second interruption. "He's in his bedroom on a phone call." She glanced back into the apartment at the closed door at the end of the corridor.

"We're investigating the murder that happened next door," Juliette said calmly, hoping to defuse her irritation. "I was wondering if we could ask you a few questions about the night of the murder."

"That night? Why are we being asked again? The police have already been around to talk to us. You know, I am very sorry that someone ended up getting killed. But it was coming. They were so, so drunk. It's too much, really. The noise those damned students make is unbearable. My husband and I have complained to the landlord numerous times, but nothing ever gets done."

"I’m sorry that you’re being questioned a second time. We’ll try to keep it brief,” Juliette placated her.

Did you hear anything suspicious on the night of the murder?" Wyatt asked. "Did your husband try to intervene at all?"

She stared at him coldly. "You'll have to ask him that. I went to bed with my earplugs in. I use them anyway for Costa's snoring."

Interesting, Juliette thought. A wife with earplugs definitely raised the possibility of the husband having been able to act alone and unheard.

At that moment, the bedroom door opened, and a short, solid man with dark hair, receding from his face and cut very short, stomped out. He was wearing a dress shirt and tattered shorts, which made Juliette think he might have been in an online meeting.

"Good afternoon," he said, more politely than his wife had done.

"FBI," Wyatt said. "Sir, we need to ask you some questions about the murders. Could we do so in private?"

"I guess we can, in the bedroom." He glanced back to where he'd just been, and they all walked down the corridor. Giving an angry snort, his wife turned away and went back to her bread baking.

The bedroom was very tidy, with a neatly made bed, on which lay a large ginger cat.

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