Murder in Miami by Noel Hynd

Author:Noel Hynd [Hynd, Noel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780310324560
Publisher: Zondervan
Published: 2012-08-14T22:00:00+00:00

THIRTY-SEVEN

She stepped into the small foyer as the floorboards creaked beneath her. A pungent herbal smell assaulted her nostrils, something not too distant from the Botánica, mixed with what she took to be either cleaning solvent or kerosene. Taking stock, she drew her gun and kept it low and close to her, pointing downward. She called out.

“¿Hola? ¿Ramona?”

No answer. She could offer as an excuse, if she ever had to offer one, that she had come calling in response to Ramona’s invitation, then had stepped in out of concern since Ramona had gone missing. That argument got her two more steps forward inside the small house.

Then she passed a small Rubicon — no turning back now. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light, and she pushed the door closed. The lock clicked back into its fragile place. She knew that what she was doing was against every law and regulation.

There was a dim light on in the kitchen, and as she scanned she spotted another light upstairs. A hallway light, she guessed. There were also a pair of night-lights scattered, as if the resident here didn’t care much for complete dark. Well, who could blame her? And Alex was thankful for such small favors of illumination.

As she stepped forward, the wood beneath her feet continued to groan. The place was like an oven. While the outside had cooled down to the eighties after the sunset, there was no such process in the house. The air was stale, fetid, and overheated. Her blouse was sticking to her ribs.

The floorboards were bare with the exception of a small carpet in the living room. Then Alex noted with distaste the original painting that adorned the floor and the walls and, when she lifted her gaze, the ceiling. There were endless patterns of flowers, insects, birds, snakes, and fish. There was no logic to them. There were fish on the ceiling and birds on the floor. The drawings were in bright hues, some in DayGlo, and in patterns that were twisted in more ways than one, perhaps to match the psyche of the artist.

Alex looked to her left. Through the kitchen door, she saw a cluttered counter and a pile of dirty dishes stacked high in the sink. A garbage pail overflowed.

Keeping her gun at her side, Alex moved through the living area. The place was creepy beyond words. The closer she came to the kitchen, the stronger the stench. Alex stealthily moved to the steps. Her Glock remained out and ready for business; she was the intruder. A voice within her started to scream. Leave now. Nothing good can happen here.

“¿Hola?” she called again. “Ramona? Anyone?”

No one on the first floor. She moved to a back door and undid the chain that held it. She opened it slightly and scanned the small yard. The door offered a potential escape if things went the wrong way. A scraggly cat watched her from the top of a fence.

Alex came back to the living room. She moved halfway up the steps, then to the top of the steps.

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