The Corpse Wore Stilettos by MJ O'Neill

Author:MJ O'Neill
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: cozy, mystery, murder, humor, chicklit
Publisher: Red Adept Publishing
Published: 2019-04-29T16:00:00+00:00

“BABE!” A RASPY WHISPER came from behind me as I stood at the morgue’s coffeepot, praying that coffee would drip from it eventually. Someone had taken the wrench.

“I’m really not in the mood, Marshall.” I turned around to face him. His body twitched, and he shuffled from one foot to the other. His wide eyes looked like they might pop out of his head.

“I read the paper. I’m sorry you had a rough night.” He looked over his shoulder, probably to make sure no one was around. “But you have to come with me.”

DC had left early to take his cats to their shrink appointment with Kimi. Thankfully, Dr. Jaffe had worked only a short day today. Henry and Sam were working a suicide with Dr. Hawthorne, and Meg had finished up and headed home to get ready for shopping later. I mentally growled at Marshall’s invasion of my first quiet moment all day.

“Even if my night had been stellar, there aren’t enough handbags in all of Italy to convince me to go anywhere with you.”

“Babe, I’m wounded.” He brought his hands to his heart. “But seriously, you have to come with me.” He started pulling on my arm. “I have something for you.”

I jerked my arm away and wiped the grease from where he had touched me. “All right, I’ll come with you. But we don’t need to touch.”

Marshall continued to look around as we moved through the hospital.

Instinctively, I looked over my shoulder too. “What are you looking for?”

“I’m making sure we aren’t followed. You aren’t exactly inconspicuous in those things.” He pointed at my lovely Stuart Weitzmans, the most comfortable heels for work, in my opinion.

“It’s not like I can go barefoot. These floors are filthy.” We went up two flights of stairs—making me even happier I’d chosen the Weitzmans for today—through a nurses’ station and to a long hallway of patient rooms.

Marshall stopped in the middle of the corridor. “We’re here.”

“If by ‘here’ you mean a janitor’s closet, then yes. What are we doing at a janitor’s closet?”

Marshall looked around again as he knocked on the door. “They prefer the term ‘custodial engineers.’” He tapped a code on the door, alternating long and short knocks three times.

“That’s not the right code,” a husky voice said from behind the door.

“Open up. It’s us.” He pressed his face tightly against the door as he spoke and breathed heavily, as if the person on the other side had X-ray vision.

“How do I know it’s you if you don’t know the code?”

“Max, open up before someone sees us.”

A click of the lock sounded, and a crack opened in the door, allowing a sliver of light to illuminate the pitch-black inside. The light reflected off the plastic of Big Max’s knee brace. Marshall went in, pulling me along.

“Why are we meeting Big Max in a dark jan... custodial engineer’s closet?” I batted Marshall’s hand away and began looking for a light switch.

“Hey, how does she know it’s me? You said she couldn’t figure out it was me if we met here.

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