Deadly Arms by Emily James

Author:Emily James [James, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Cozy, Crime, Fiction, Mystery & Detective, Thriller, Women Sleuths
ISBN: 9781988480084
Google: b_VLswEACAAJ
Publisher: Stronghold Books
Published: 2017-07-14T23:00:00+00:00

11

Even in the dark, it was easy to find the right house. Police vehicles sat out front, lights flashing. The red, blue, and white danced off the front of the house in a way that made it look like it belonged in a Tim Burton Christmas movie. I half expected Jack and Sally to peek their skeletal and sutured heads around the corner. The thought alone made me shudder. Tim Burton’s movies were too creepy for me.

Elise waved to us from beside the front door. “It might be a waste bringing you out here, but when I called Chief McTavish, his wife said she’d been instructed to tell anyone who called to go bother the consultants.”

I circled my hands in a walk-it-back gesture. “What’s happened?”

Elise led us over to where we could put on crime scene gear. “At first glance, it looks like a suicide. He left a note confessing to abusing his wife for years.”

A note, or the lack of one, didn’t prove or disprove a suicide, but it certainly helped. Especially when it revealed the reason the deceased had felt life wasn’t worth living anymore. “Hand-written?”

Elise nodded, but her body posture was awkward. She reminded me a bit of a high school chemistry student being asked to perform an experiment alongside a Noble laureate.

Elise didn’t often get the chance to participate in an investigation, let alone lead one. Maybe she felt like this was above her pay grade, and she didn’t want to disappoint Chief McTavish. Or, more likely, Erik. “Do you have a reason to suspect it’s not a suicide?”

“Not really. It’s just that most of the suicides around here are teenagers or the elderly. This time it’s a former Fair Haven police officer.”

Like with any high-stress profession, especially one that involved trusting your co-workers with your life, the police took a death of one of their own seriously. Not that they didn’t take all death cases seriously—they did—but when one of their own died under suspicious circumstances, they became almost anal about making sure they investigated everything. I’d seen it before in DC when an off-duty officer died in a hit-and-run accident.

But in this case, it might be unwarranted. More police officers died in the United States each year from suicide than from gunfire and traffic accidents combined.

“Did he have any connection to Bruce Vilsack?” I asked.

“Doesn’t look like it, but I sent Scherwin to ask Vilsack’s family and roommate.”

“When did it happen?”

Elise pulled out her notebook. “The neighbor called 911 about an hour ago and reported hearing what sounded like a gunshot next door. Mark says time of death is consistent with that.”

I hadn’t realized I’d been holding tension in my shoulders until it let go. It wasn’t likely this case was connected to Vilsack’s, and if it turned out it was, Becky would be off the suspect list. An hour ago, I could alibi her myself.

My mom and I finished gearing up, and Elise led us into the house. The inside had a 90s

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