The Turkey Burger Murder by Rosie A. Point

Author:Rosie A. Point [Point, Rosie A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rosie A. Point

12

According to my sources—Missi and Vee—Del lived above her tattoo parlor. Which meant I knew exactly where she stayed and how to get inside. And that, maybe, that cute black cat I’d seen on the second-floor balcony the other day had been hers. That cat was highly adoptable. A part of me wished that Del was the murderer so I could offer to look after her pet.

Tack that onto the list of things I should see a therapist about.

I parked my car around the corner from Buffalo Street ten minutes after I’d rushed out of the Burger Bar. Del and Starling were there, which meant I had at least twenty minutes to get into Del’s apartment, snoop around, and figure out why she was involved with Starling in the first place.

I jogged down the street, tucking my phone and keys into the pocket of my shorts as I ran. I’d opted to leave my purse in the Chevy for now. Less complications meant less chance of messing up.

The alleyway was exactly as I remembered it. The green dumpster, the neon sign, the second-floor balcony. I scanned above and found that the sliding door that led out onto the balcony was open a crack, likely for the black cat who lived in the apartment above.

I grabbed the side of the dumpster—empty, thankfully—and dragged it over on its screeching wheels. I shut both lids then clambered on top, gauging the distance between myself and the balcony railing.

I rubbed my hands together.

“Here goes nothing.” I leaped and caught hold of the railing, using what upper body strength I had left after years of relative inactivity to pull myself up and over. I landed heavily and something cracked beneath me.

A potted plant.

“Shoot. Blame the cat, I guess.” I rose, dusting myself off, and careful not to step in the soil that had messed, heading for the balcony door.

I slid it open and was struck in the face by the strong scent of cat urine. My eyes watered.

Cat urine.

Ricky had mentioned cat urine, hadn’t he? That was the standout fact from my meat theft investigation. That the thief had smelled of cat urine and stolen an entire shipment of meat from the back of Ricky’s delivery van.

I entered the apartment, taking slow steps and scanning the space. It was well-lit. The offending feline sat on the sofa nearby, watching me lazily. The cat seemed completely unconcerned by my presence. Maybe it was exhausted after a marathon morning of peeing absolutely everywhere.

The apartment was small but neatly kept apart from the smell. The living room and kitchen were open plan, running into one another. Two pairs of shoes were beside the door, one a man’s, the other a woman’s. A desk was pressed against the wall nearby with a laptop sat atop it, the lid open.

I strode over to it and hit a key.

It opened without any password requirement.

Why would Del have a password on her personal computer when no one would see it? It made sense, but I shook my head anyway.

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