Death By High Heels (The Kim Murphy PI Series Book 1)

by Violet Ingram

  I had just lifted my mug when someone began banging on the front door.

  “Crap. Just what I needed, a coffee stain on my favorite t-shirt.”

  I stepped out of my office, hung a left, and walked past the empty reception desk. Before opening the door, I plastered on a half-assed smile. Lindsay stood face flushed, bags under her eyes, and strands of hair escaping her ponytail holder. She had her hand raised and was about to knock on my forehead. In the short time she had been my neighbor I’d never seen her with as much as a hair out of place. She had even unloaded moving boxes in full makeup and a pair of two-inch heels.

  “Oh, thank God you’re here,” Lindsay said, brushing past me.

  “Sure, Lindsay, come on in,” I muttered.

  “Oh, Kim, you have no idea what I’ve been through.”

  Probably not, but I had the uneasy feeling I was about to hear all about it.

  “I can’t even stay in my apartment. Not that I’d want to after that horrible ordeal. Luckily I got that room at the Lakeview Inn.”

  Yup, I was right. I was about to hear how tough her evening had been. “Let’s go in my office.” I turned and led the way.

  “I would love some coffee,” she said, glancing down at the mug still in my hand.

  Swell, she planned on staying long enough to drink a cup. I wasn’t sure I could spend that much time with her without killing one of us, preferably her. Since I was already a suspect in one murder it didn’t seem wise to push my luck. I should have known better than to complain about being bored. This was just the universe’s way of getting even.

  “Cream or sugar?”

  “Oh, black, please. Do you know how many calories are in cream and sugar?”

  I had no freaking idea, but I wasn’t about to give up either one.

  “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”

  I filled the mugs and resisted the temptation to dump some of the evil calorie-filled sugar into hers. Back in my office, I placed the mugs on the desk and parked myself in my chair.

  “So, how can I help you?”

  “That awful Detective Tompkins actually believes I killed that man.”

  Good. Maybe that meant I was off the hook. It also felt awesome he hadn’t fallen for her little helpless act. Yay.

  “Well, someone killed him and he was in your apartment,” I said.

  “I didn’t do it. I swear,” she said, then burst into tears.

  I sipped my coffee and waited for the waterworks to end. When she noticed her tears were having no effect on me, she wiped her face with a tissue and demanded I help her.

  “This is a murder investigation. Let the cops handle it.”

  “Look, Kim, I’m in trouble. I expect you to help me.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Technically, the police found you with the body. I’d say you have about as much to lose as I do.” She looked around my office. “Well, maybe not as much, but I’m sure you don’t want to spend time in jail. So, I think you owe me this. I am willing to pay you.”

  I really hated people who thought the world revolved around them.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t. The police department won’t like my nosing around one of their cases.”

  “Your dad’s the chief of police. What can they do to you? It’s not like they would arrest you or anything.”

  “It doesn’t work that way. I get caught, I get locked up the same as everybody else.”

  “Then don’t get caught. Here’s a check for three thousand dollars. I assume that’s enough to get started.”

  She was obviously used to getting her way by throwing money at a problem.

  “Lindsay, that’s double my normal deposit.”

  “I don’t care. I need you to find who killed that man, and I’m willing to pay whatever it takes. I’m not letting my freedom rest in the hands of the police department.”

  If I turned her down, I’d never get rid of her. She wasn’t the type to take no for an answer. The fastest way to get her out of my office was to agree to take her case, a mistake I’d probably live to regret. I should have handed her back the check and kicked her out.

  A few minutes later, Lindsay left my office with a signed contract and a smug smile on her face that I could have done without. She drove me nuts, and it wasn’t her blonde hair and blue eyes. I was quite happy having inherited my father’s auburn hair and green eyes. Of the six kids, I was the only one to resemble our Irish father. My siblings had inherited our mother’s black hair and brown eyes. I wouldn’t have minded having their darker skin instead of the milky white I insisted on tanning, or rather burning, each summer.

  I couldn’t believe after all the trouble Lindsay had caused, here I was helping her. She’d barely been there a week when she’d called the landlord to complain about the old guy in the apartment on the other end of the building. He was old and losing his hearing, so his television was turned up loud each evening while he watched the news. Instead of taking him to the doctor for a new pair of hearing aids, his kids had moved his television to the other side of the apartment, so as not to bother Lindsay.

  Then a few weeks later she had called animal control about a stray cat and her kittens. They were too wild to let anyone touch them, but my neighbor, Mrs. Benson, always left bowls of food and water on her patio for them. She had been heartbroken when they were taken away. Needless to say, Lindsay had not endeared herself to any of us.

  Sticking it to her checkbook was one reason I was helping her after all of that. The other, larger reason was I was nosy as hell and wanted to know how the dead guy ended up in her apartment. The thought that Lindsay was responsible flitted briefly through my mind. I couldn’t imagine the blonde neat freak killing someone and leaving such a mess.

  After locking up my office, I drove to the bank and deposited the check. Normally my first step would have been to try to get information out of the detective in charge of the case. Grant was in charge and not exactly in a sharing mood, at least not about the case. I was going to have to figure out another way to get the information I needed. I’d also have to do this while avoiding my dad and half a dozen other family members.

  There was only one person, not related to me, who could give me enough information to get me started. Back in my car, I followed Main Street south for several miles before turning onto Third Street. I drove past the brand new police station and fire station. A mile down the road, I turned into an empty parking lot, barely avoiding several large pot holes. In several places the brown paint had peeled off the front of the building. A small section of the gutter, above the door, was missing.

  Inside, I made my way over to the front desk, where a gray-haired woman dressed in Pepto-Bismol pink sat reading a newspaper.

  “How can I help you?”

  “I, um, was wondering if Doc Gardner’s available.”

  “That depends. What’s your name, sweetie?”

  “Kim Murphy.”

  “Well, you just hang on a sec.”

  After a whispered conversation, she hung up and told me to take the elevator behind her to the basement.

  Well, shoot, I hadn’t thought this through. How bad did I really want his help? Maybe I could return Lindsay’s money and go home. Yeah, right, like that was going to happen. My heart was racing. I hated elevators and yet there I was about to take one to the last place on Earth I wanted to be. I took a deep breath and stepped inside. Just as the doors closed I lurched forward, but it was too late. When the doors opened a few minutes later I found myself only a few feet away from the inside of the Lakeview city morgue.

  I stood there, not moving, for so long the elevator doors started to close. I rushed forward and came face to face with Dr. Gardner.

  “Kimberly, it is so good to see you again. Come in, come in.”

  It was too bad I wasn’t as excited as he seemed to be. Wanting to avoid appearing like the coward I truly was, I stepped inside. The room was cold and filled with the scent of chemicals and God only knew what else. A
ll but one of the tables was empty. Fortunately, it was the furthest one from the door.

  “So, I bet you’re here about the gentleman from yesterday.”

  “Yeah, I was hoping you could give me some information.”

  “Well now, I just sent Detective Tompkins a copy of my preliminary report.”

  “Anything in it you could share with me?” I asked.

  “Afraid I can’t help. As you can see, I have a young gentleman waiting for me, but if you’d like to have a seat at my desk, I’m sure you could find some fascinating reading material.” He winked and turned around. Walking over to the back table, he began to hum.

  Desperate to avoid watching him work, I sat down, grabbed the file, and began to read. After finishing, I grabbed a pen and jotted down notes on a scrap piece of paper.

  The victim was identified as Brian Lewis. Time of death was between one and three p.m. yesterday. The toxicology report wouldn’t be available for several days. Not that it mattered. Drugs hadn’t killed this guy. The cause of death was listed as exsanguination. Brian had bled to death. The wounds had been caused by a serrated knife. There were no defensive wounds. It was as if the guy just sat there and let someone carve him up like a Thanksgiving turkey. I placed the file back on the desk and stood up.

  “Thanks for the help. I should get going,” I said, avoiding looking in his direction.

  “I trust you found it helpful.”

  “You bet. I’ll show myself out. Thanks again.”

  “No problem. Come back and visit anytime.”

  As nice as Dr. Gardner was, I had no intention of ever going back inside there again—ever.

  In my rush to escape the building, I plowed into Grant.

  “Slow down there next time,” he said, stepping back, a smile on his face until he realized who I was. “Kim, what are you doing here?”

  Under most circumstances, my ability to lie on the spot was second only to my skill of making a pan of fresh baked brownies disappear. Too bad my mind was a complete blank. I didn’t know if it was just bad luck or karma but my brain locked up and refused to reboot.

  “Grant! What are you doing here?” I sputtered.

  “I just asked you that. I’m doing my job. What about you?”

  “I’m…uh…just, well, I was just visiting a friend.”

  “A friend? I didn’t realize you were friends with the victim.”

  Oh crud. I was busted. The inability to lie to him was beginning to make my life extremely complicated. “I was just curious, that’s all.”

  “You are nosy as hell and one day it’s going to get you into trouble you can’t get yourself out of.” His eyes glared down at me.

  “I can take care of myself!”

  “Yeah, but when you need help, you’re too stubborn to ask for it!” he shouted.

  “Look,” I said, trying to calm down. “I found the guy and—”

  “Which is why you need to stay the hell away from this case,” Grant snapped.

  “I don’t take orders from you.”

  “You’d better, because if I catch you interfering in this case, I’ll lock you up.”

  I had never understood what genetic defect was responsible, but whenever someone told me I couldn’t do something I became hell-bent on doing it. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Don’t tempt me. Go back to following cheating spouses and stay the hell away from my case.”

  “Screw you.”

  Grant moved so fast, I didn’t have a chance to get away. His hands grabbed my upper arms and pulled me to him. I was suddenly pressed up against a very angry and very hot body. What the hell was wrong with me that I was noticing his body while angry at him?

  “Kim, this guy was butchered. Don’t think for a second the person responsible would hesitate to do the same to you. Stay out of this, because if I have to, I will lock you up, and I don’t care what the chief thinks.”

  “My safety is none of your business.”

  “I’ve decided it is since you don’t seem to be able to take care of yourself.”

  Jerking out of his arms, I stomped over to my car. Twenty minutes later I was back in my office and still hadn’t calmed down.

  Just who the hell did he think he was giving me orders? Oh yeah, he was a homicide detective, that’s who. I was sure Grant figured because he had shut me down I’d have no choice but to drop the case. Well, I’d be oh so happy to disappoint him. I had my own sources in the police station. The one most likely to help me was Jackie Agostino, who was married to my cousin, Anthony, on my mother’s side. For the past ten years, Jackie had worked at the police station right along with a majority of my family. She had access to anything and everything. I used her as a source when I had no other options. Unfortunately, this was one of those times.

  I loved Jackie to pieces. She was family after all. The problem was what she would expect in return for her help. I would spend an entire day shopping, having lunch, getting a manicure, and watching a chick flick, which, on second thought, didn’t seem like all that bad of an idea. Before I could second guess myself, I picked up the phone and dialed.

  “Lakeview Police Department, Jackie speaking.”

  “Jackie, hey, it’s Kim.”

  “Hey, girl, what’s up?”

  “Not much. How are Anthony and the kids?”

  Those were the last words I spoke for the next ten minutes. We had talked just last week, so I was truly amazed at how much she had to say.

  “Oh, yeah, I heard all about you finding that body last night.”

  At last, I was making progress. She was the first one who hadn’t accused me of killing the guy. “Yeah, well, I need everything Detective Tompkins has on the guy.”

  “Ooh, so is it the file or Detective Tasty you want to get your hands on?” She laughed.

  The truth would have been both, though, at the moment, if I got my hands on Grant, I wasn’t sure if I’d strangle him or drag him off somewhere to put an end to my sexual dry spell. Since it would have been unwise to let her know this, I kept my mouth shut. Otherwise, the second we got off the phone she’d inform the entire family I had it bad for Grant. So I lied and claimed my only interest was the file.

  “Too bad. Every available female here has flirted with that man. So far he hasn’t taken any up on their very raunchy offers.”

  “Really?” I said, trying to sound uninterested.

  “Oh yeah. Rumor has it he’s not as single as he claims.”

  What the hell did that mean? He didn’t wear a wedding band. So did that mean he had a girlfriend, or worse, a fiancée? The thought made me nauseous, especially since he’d had his tongue in my mouth. If we hadn’t been interrupted, I’d have probably dragged him to my bedroom. The jerk.

  “So, is there any way you can get me that file?”

  “I’m going to forgive you for doubting me, ’cause we’re family.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Besides, everybody here was so relieved you weren’t responsible for that guy being dead.”

  “I’m sure they were.”

  “Yeah, Anthony said you weren’t dumb enough to get caught standing over the body. Tommy figured you were smart enough not to leave any witnesses.”

  “It’s nice to know my family has so much confidence in me,” I snapped.

  “Look, it’s getting busy in here. Your dead guy has a record. Give me ten minutes and I’ll email you everything we’ve got.”

  “Thanks, Jackie, I owe you one.”

  “You bet your ass you do.”

  While I waited for her email I opened the desk drawer in a desperate search for something to eat. Luckily, I found a multigrain bar and a Hershey’s Chocolate Bar. The temptation was almost too much, but somehow I found my willpower and grabbed the candy bar. When the chocolate was gone, I opened Jackie’s email. Deciding to avoid eye strain, I printed out the file and began to read.

  Included in the file was contact information for Brian’s mother and sister. C
onveniently, both had local addresses. The name of Brian’s parole officer and a list of his known associates were also included.

  Grant had been a very busy detective, while I had been very busy doing not much of anything. Next up I read Lindsay’s statement. It wasn’t a big surprise it provided no helpful information. According to Grant’s notes, he had yet to find a connection between Lindsay and the dead guy in her apartment.

  Without a better place to start, I decided to begin questioning the people on Grant’s list. It may not have seemed productive but I had found that many times I could get more from someone than the police could. Not everyone was eager to talk to the cops. I called and set up an appointment with Brian’s parole officer for Thursday morning. I was shocked but pleased he had agreed to see me.

  Deciding to speak with the victim’s family, I locked up the office and headed for the south end of Lakeview and Brian’s mother’s home. I parked and made my way up a set of stairs that creaked with each step I took. I rang the doorbell and waited. The door was opened by a woman in her twenties wearing Garfield scrubs. This must be Sara Lewis, Brian’s sister. Her eyes were bloodshot and her blonde hair needed a few swipes with a brush. She also seemed vaguely familiar.

  “My name is Kim Murphy. I’m a private investigator. I was looking for a Debbie Lewis.”

  “What do you want with my mom?”

  “Actually, I was hoping to speak with both of you about your brother.”

  “No.”

  “I understand this is a bad time—”

  “You’re right, it’s a bad time. My brother’s dead,” she interrupted.

  A woman, an older version of Sara, walked up and stood behind her daughter. Both women had blonde hair and brown eyes. There was no resemblance between them and the young man lying on a slab in the county morgue.

  “Yes, I know. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  “Sure ya are. You don’t know us. We’re busy, so just get outta here.”

  “Sara, the last time I checked, this was still my house and I’ll decide who stays and who goes.”

  “You wanna talk to her, fine, but don’t think I got anything to say.” With that, Sara Lewis turned and walked away.