SANDMAN by Morgan Hannah MacDonald

Author:Morgan Hannah MacDonald [MacDonald, Morgan Hannah]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Celtic Moon Publishing
Published: 2012-02-02T04:30:00+00:00

TWENTY-SEVEN

The detectives had elected to drive home the night before, so by ten a.m. Thomas was dressed for the day and ready to check in with Shadowhawk. “How’s it going?”

“I just sat down at the computer, so I don’t have any answers yet,” she said.

“Okay, you work on the Dark Knight. I’ll go see if I can talk to this Jordan guy.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me with you?”

“Yes. I want you to follow up on that lead.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. Call me the minute you leave him, I’m dying to know what his story is.”

“Will do. Catch ya later.”

Thomas headed to Laguna Niguel. He pulled into the Hidden Hills apartment complex and drove around until he found the building, then parked.

The apartment was on the first floor. After knocking on the door repeatedly, it was finally answered by a woman of indeterminate age, perhaps somewhere in her late thirties? It was hard to tell; she looked like she’d been ridden hard and put away wet.

The cigarette pressed between her lips expelled smoke in Thomas’ direction. He waved his hand. She let out a phlegm-filled cough, exposing a pierced tongue. The makeup surrounding her eyes was so dark, it was hard to determine their color, brown. The dark purple lipstick she wore clashed with her pale skin and reminded him of a corpse.

“Well, Hel-loo good lookin’.” Her eyes roamed the length of his body, and a smile tugged at her lips. “And what can I do for you?”

He ignored the suggestive remark and introduced himself, flicking his ID open.

“Does Jordan Roberts live here?”

Her expression turned sour. “You’re shit out of luck, he ain’t here. He’s working, or so he says. What do you want with the little worm anyway?”

“I just needed to question him regarding a case I’m working on.”

“Uh huh.” She flicked her ash on the floor.

Thomas was losing his patience. “And you are?”

“Sharon, his wife.”

“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“Sure.” She stepped back.

Thomas walked into a cave. It was dark; the curtains were drawn. It reeked of smoke, and a dirty litter box. On his right stood the kitchen. Dirty dishes filled the sink and spilled out over the counters. The trash can overflowed with fast food bags and beer cans. Flies buzzed around the contents.

Sharon Roberts led him into the living room, then picked up a load of laundry off the couch and tossed it on the floor so he could sit down. He stared at the spot she’d cleared; it was covered with long white cat hair. She made a feeble attempt to brush it away; it stuck like glue.

Thomas eased himself down on the edge of the sofa and attempted to hide his grimace. He already knew he’d be sending his suit to the cleaners to remove the stench that undoubtedly started seeping into the fabric the moment he entered the room. A few cat hairs wouldn’t make much of a difference either way.

She sat next to him; any closer, and she’d be sitting on his lap.

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