Their Resting Place: A completely unputdownable mystery and suspense thriller (Detective Casey White Book 8) by B.R. Spangler

Author:B.R. Spangler [Spangler, B.R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781837901142
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2023-02-20T16:00:00+00:00

SIXTEEN

The sun was gone for the day, the night sky a dark blue and turning gray. The shadow of bats flew in and out of the boardwalk lights, feasting like the couples and families that exited the small ice-cream shop. We took to the wood staircase, eyes on the slim door above the shop, steps creaking as we ascended. A blanket of warm air gushed from the darkness of her apartment while I fumbled for a light switch.

“Cozy,” Tracy said, scooting past me as I assessed first impressions. She waved to fan her face, adding, “But it’s so warm.”

“No wonder. Windows are free of air conditioning, and the refrigerators build heat below,” Nichelle said while opening a window. She worked her hair into a bun, her large brown eyes drinking in the room. “This is cozy. I’d live here.”

“What do we have?” I asked while carefully crossing the main room. There was a plush couch for two, a love seat, on one side of the wall, a bookshelf across from it. A plump green beanbag sat next to the door, light bulbs draped from a white wire in the corner, their filaments glowing bright. I went to the bookshelf, finding classic horror novels and newer thrillers. I pulled a hardback out, saying, “She’s a reader.”

Tracy joined me, sifting through the titles, tapping the spines. “Notice it?”

“What’s that?” I asked, searching the shelves, finding what wasn’t there. “Hmm. There’s no tech. No eBook readers or tablets. Not even a television.”

“There must be a laptop around here,” Nichelle said with a frown, searching. “How else is she working payroll and taxes and all that goodness that comes with employing a small business?”

“I’ll check the kitchen,” Tracy said, working a counter that divided the room. There was a hotplate and sink, a countertop microwave and refrigerator. A few pots and pans hung from the walls, along with kitchen towels, and a pair of oven mitts. “Not much of a cook.”

“Microwave dinners,” I said, sifting through the trash and recycling. “I’d say Jessie Smith lived in her shop. She ate and slept here, did some reading in her downtime, but not much else.”

“No computer or laptop,” Nichelle said, poking her head out of the bedroom. “No tablet either.”

Tracy returned to the victim’s library and began to go through the books, pages ruffled as she fanned them open. “Can you run a business from a phone?” she asked. “I mean, if that’s all you’ve got?”

“I could,” Nichelle answered without hesitating.

“Sure, if that’s all you’ve got.” I joined Tracy, picking a book from the shelf, a newer Stephen King I’d had my eye on. I fanned the pages, feeling our time was wasting. I replaced the book, filling the empty space, saying, “Let’s spend the time where Jessie Smith spent her time.”

“Downstairs?” Nichelle asked.

“Talk to Karen and Chrissy?” Tracy added.

“Yes,” I said, shooing them along, crowding around the door while I locked it behind us. “Do we have any pictures from the junior varsity squad?”

“Already loaded,” Tracy answered, staircase creaking, the railing loose.

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