Poisoned Pearls by Leah R. Cutter

Author:Leah R. Cutter [Cutter, Leah R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, lesbian, Minneapolis, ragnorak, veteran, psyonics, Loki, Chinaman Joe
Publisher: Book View Cafe
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

I managed to vomit only three times before I could control my stomach enough to call the cops.

And no, I didn’t call 911. I called Sam and Ferguson, directly.

I knew what this would look like. I was the only one with a key to the peep show booths. Sam was already convinced that I’d been involved in Kyle’s death, though she didn’t know how. I knew that she’d end up saying the same thing about Angela’s death as well, that I was involved.

Somehow.

Made me even less inclined to go and get fucking tested, if this was the sort of shit I’d be pulling, accusing perfectly innocent citizens of crimes they weren’t responsible for, that they weren’t involved in.

I didn’t bother changing out of the rubber apron or waders. I figured they should see me at my worst.

I did clean up the vomit, as that was mostly outside the booth.

No shows tonight. Chinaman Joe was gonna be pissed.

Fergusson showed up like a dark cloud, still wearing the same down jacket, still looking like a marshmallow. He immediately pulled me to the side, away from the crime scene, while the techs took over, setting up a portable light since the one in the booth seemed to be busted.

Something else I was going to have to fix.

He held up his recording pen again before he asked, “Please describe the events of the evening.”

I told him about my night, how I had come to clean up the stalls, cleaning the first three and noticing the smell before trying to open the door of the fourth. I was honest about vomiting (okay, maybe a bit more graphic than necessary) while Ferguson’s face pinched tight in disgust.

I also admitted to knowing Angela. I didn’t know her last name, had never learned it. That she’d crashed at my place a few times that summer. And that she’d come into the store after Kyle’s death.

“No one noticed anything before now?” Ferguson asked.

“No one comes back here,” I told him honestly. “Not unless the shows are running. Nothing was out of order Sunday night when I locked the place up.”

“How did the deceased get in here, then?”

I shrugged. “Not a clue. The doors were all locked.” I was pretty sure I’d locked them. I always did. The other three doors had been locked.

“It doesn’t appear that the door was forced open,” Ferguson said. “Someone must have had a key.”

“I didn’t give her one. No one had one. Except for me and Chinaman Joe.” Did Angela have a key? Had she swiped it when she’d been staying with me?

“Chinaman Joe?” Ferguson asked, suddenly interested.

Fuck. “Yeah. He owns the place, you know.” He was going to be so pissed about this, another death on his property.

I had no idea what Chinaman Joe’s background actually was. He was a tall Asian man with droopy eyes and a long mustache. He always wore a funny khaki-green cap, like a homemade baseball cap. I’d seen him in a business suit a couple of times, with a nice shirt and tie, but mostly he wore T-shirts and jeans.

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