Eat, Drink and Drop Dead by T C LoTempio

Author:T C LoTempio [LoTempio, T.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn House
Published: 2023-01-06T00:00:00+00:00

FOURTEEN

‘Don’t you think you should show that to Bartell?’

I took my eyes off the road briefly and glanced over at Hilary, seated next to me in the passenger seat. She held the paper I’d gotten earlier gingerly in her gloved hands, and handled it almost as if she were afraid it would bite her.

‘I probably should,’ I said, ‘but after what happened yesterday, I’m a little reluctant to make contact with him,’ I confessed.

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ Hilary exploded. ‘You’ve been threatened, girl! This is a threatening note if I ever saw one. Bartell should know about this. Maybe he can get fingerprints or DNA off of it, or something to track the killer down.’

‘Well, that’s highly doubtful. I imagine the killer handled that note the same way you are – gingerly and with gloves. I doubt he or she would be stupid enough to leave any traceable evidence.’

‘You never know,’ Hilary declared. ‘It’s always some small detail that trips the bad guys up on Criminal Minds.’

‘Yeah, well, I’ll think about it.’

I pulled into Southern Style’s parking lot. Hilary let out a low whistle. ‘Wow, I’ve never seen this parking lot so empty. We must be the only ones here.’

‘Us, and maybe the cleaning crew and the guards,’ I agreed. I pulled my convertible into a spot near the back entrance. Hilary looked at me questioningly, and I shrugged. ‘No sense making our presence more conspicuous than necessary,’ I said. I shut the car off and then wiggled my fingers at Hilary. ‘Hand it over.’

Hilary handed me the note and I folded it carefully, then reached into my pocket and pulled out one of the cellophane baggies I usually reserved for Cooper’s deposits. I tucked the note inside, then opened my glove compartment and slid it in. I locked the glove compartment and we exited the car and walked around to the front entrance.

‘Oh, great. Just our luck. Look who’s on guard duty,’ Hil whispered as we pushed through the double glass doors. ‘Gil Chesterton.’

‘The DA? Great.’

Gil was a seventy-something man who’d served in the Korean War and loved to relate anecdotes to anyone who would listen, and also to those who wouldn’t. He’d gotten the nickname DA because of his penchant for asking a gazillion questions in rapid-fire succession, much like Herbert Hathaway, Branson’s District Attorney.

‘Well, we have to sign in. There’s no getting around that,’ I said through clenched teeth as Hilary hung back. ‘Let’s get it over with.’

We approached the reception desk. Gil looked up, blinked slowly, and then his craggy face split into a smile. ‘Wal, if it isn’t Miss Hilary and our newest employee, Miss Tiffany. Watcha all doin’ here on a Sunday? Don’t tell me two pretty gals like you don’t have dates, or somethin’?’

I shot Gil my biggest 150-watt mega-smile. ‘Now, Gil. What could be better than coming here on a Sunday morning?’

He gave me an odd look, and then barked out a dry laugh that sounded more like a cackle. ‘Oh, I could think of lots of things.

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