Dying for a Dude (Laurel McKay Mysteries Book 4) by Cindy Sample

are you?” I asked.
    “Upstairs in the attic of the Hangtown Hotel.”
    “And you have no idea where Spencer could be?”
    “I didn’t say that,” he muttered. “You know the dummy that hangs over the Hangman’s Tree building a few doors down from the hotel?”
    “Of course. I used the Hanging Man dummy in one of the bank’s ad campaigns recently.” Or attempted to until my boss shot me down.
    “Well, now there’s two of them.”
    I leaned back against my pillow. “Did vandals string up another dummy? Don’t worry. It’s not your concern.”
    Hank’s loud sigh boomed over the phone. “It’s my concern when the new hanging man isn’t a dummy.”
    I was about to chastise Hank for being a dummy himself when he finally elaborated.
    “Spencer is hanging from the scaffolding of the Hangtown Hotel!”

 
     
     
CHAPTER NINE
     
     
    The phone slipped and banged against my front teeth. “What do you mean Spencer is hanging from the scaffolding? Is he dead?”
    “Well, I haven’t examined his body,” Hank said, “but he’s looking kind of limp and, um, dead-ish.”
    “Did you call the police?”
    “No, I called you first.” My ego was impressed Hank called me first. My brain decided he was an idiot.
    “I heard sirens in the background a few minutes ago,” I said. “Are the police there now?”
    “Someone must have realized he wasn’t a dummy and called the cops. Two police cars parked on the street in front of the building. What should I do?”
    I rested the phone on my shoulder, which left my fingernails free for chewing. Certainly gnawing my nails down to their nubs would help me come up with a solution.
    “I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” I said. “Just because you and Spencer scheduled a meeting this morning doesn’t signify anything. But why would someone kill him and string his body up?”
    “Crazy, huh? Should I go talk to the officers?” Hank’s voice shook. He must feel awful after such a grisly discovery. I was feeling nauseous myself thinking about it.
    “You can’t hide up there forever. The detectives will want to examine every inch of the building before long. Why did you go inside? Didn’t you notice Spencer hanging out front?”
    “I always park my truck in the Center Street garage and enter through the rear door. Spencer has a reserved spot in another lot. Since the door wasn’t locked, I assumed he’d already arrived. When I didn’t see him, I figured he must have left. I called his cell and heard it ring up above me so I climbed the stairs to the second floor.” Hank gulped before he continued. “At first I thought someone had moved the dummy again. You know like the time he went missing and ended up sitting in a chair at the Liar’s Bench bar. I almost had a heart attack when I realized it was Spencer.”
    I tried my best to reassure him. “You have nothing to worry about. The two of you merely have, I mean had, a business arrangement. Go downstairs and explain your situation to the officers. It’s far better if you tell the cops now than if they find out later you were on the premises. I’m sure the police will understand.”
    Silly me.
     
    Ninety minutes later, I stood on the sidewalk alongside a throng of spectators across the street from the old Hangtown Hotel. Yellow crime scene tape formed a barricade around the brick and clapboard building Hank was in the middle of renovating. Crime scene tape also covered the scaffolding. A few early birds displayed photos taken with their smart phones before the police took down Darius Spencer’s body.
    I shivered, either from the early morning temperature or from the ghastly sight of Spencer’s limp frame that the woman next to me insisted on sharing via her iPad. The high definition version. Whoever hung Spencer intended to make a statement. No attempt had been made to disguise the death as an accident.
    My heart went out to Janet, the victim’s wife, and their children. Losing a spouse was