Killer Closet Case: a Danger Cove B&B Mystery (Danger Cove Mysteries Book 6) by Elizabeth Ashby, T. Sue VerSteeg Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Ashby, T. Sue VerSteeg
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the words "kill or be killed" in swirly script across them might have had a little to do with it, too. "He looks like a killer, don't you think?"
"Totes." Her head bobbed along with mine.
I glanced through a couple of articles that even claimed he had ties to the Mafia.
"Huh," I breathed, leaning back in the chair and lacing my fingers behind my head. "Perhaps I've been looking at my career goals all wrong. Maybe my calling in life is to be a private investigator?"
I remembered the laundry in the basement, knowing the job title of pest control most definitely wasn't even whispering to me. Though there would be a small amount of satisfaction knowing the job was done well, leaving behind no survivors. A shudder wracked my body. "I put a load of laundry in the wash earlier. I'll give you twenty bucks if you'll go put it in the dryer." Even as I said the words, I knew it was pretty much the same as asking my parents to turn on their cell phone. Neither of those things would happen in my lifetime.
CHAPTER FIVE
Cris pulled a green pepper from atop the piece of pizza on her plate and popped it into her mouth. "Maybe you shouldn't just settle on being a private investigator. You could do the whole lawyer gig thing like your brother. If you start school now, you won't be too far behind him when he graduates next year. You could even, like, totally start a firm together and stuff. You could be the brains, and he could be the brawn." She gasped as she paused to pluck another veggie and hovered it at her lips. "I'd totally hire you. Maybe you could even bury Max's wife in so much legal paperwork that she'd have to be buried for real." An evil smile curled her lips as she popped the veggie into her mouth.
I took a bite of my slice of pizza, still piping hot from the oven, and contemplated her words, wondering if I should burst her bubble by telling her how many years a law degree took. But I was in my own ego bubble. I could still hear the police detective's words of encouragement after I'd called him with my find, telling me he'd heard of the guy and that he had well known ties to the Mafia. My ego swelled even more as I played the scene through my mind a few more times.
Cristal snapped her fingers in front of my face. "Earth to Bree."
"Sorry."
"The doorbell just rang. Don't you suppose we should check that out?"
"Right." I bounced to my feet and scurried out into the lobby. A burly, dark-haired man in a black suit and a loud, multicolored checkered tie stood beside the desk, arms folded over his chest. He had his chin jutted just enough that he was staring down his nose at me with an uneasy gaze.
"Which one of you is Bree Milford?" he snapped, glancing between Cris and me.
Cris bounded toward the stairs like a frightened deer, clinging to the wrought iron banister. She pointed a trembling finger at me as though he had a gun wavering between us.
Part of me wanted to flee too. The other part, full of stubborn pride and oozing sarcasm, just stood her ground. It was yet to be determined which half was the smarter of the two. I turned my attention to who I was sure was Detective Marshall. That was a voice you couldn't easily forget. I extended my hand, and he briefly shook it. "I'm Bree."
He flashed his badge as he cast a guarded scan around the room, his gaze stopping on Cris, giving her the up and down before returning to me. "Is there somewhere we can talk privately?"
Without being asked, she flew up the stairs and disappeared into her room, the door punctuating her exit with a loud slam.
I gestured toward the sofa. "Will this work?"
He nodded. When I finally realized he was waiting for me to take a seat, I crowded myself into a corner, and he sat at the opposite end.
"I thought you'd want to know that Mr. James was found in New York and brought in for questioning there."
I tried to keep my inner beaming smile at an outwardly acceptable grin, but I could feel it kind of take over my face anyway. "Do you need the
"Totes." Her head bobbed along with mine.
I glanced through a couple of articles that even claimed he had ties to the Mafia.
"Huh," I breathed, leaning back in the chair and lacing my fingers behind my head. "Perhaps I've been looking at my career goals all wrong. Maybe my calling in life is to be a private investigator?"
I remembered the laundry in the basement, knowing the job title of pest control most definitely wasn't even whispering to me. Though there would be a small amount of satisfaction knowing the job was done well, leaving behind no survivors. A shudder wracked my body. "I put a load of laundry in the wash earlier. I'll give you twenty bucks if you'll go put it in the dryer." Even as I said the words, I knew it was pretty much the same as asking my parents to turn on their cell phone. Neither of those things would happen in my lifetime.
CHAPTER FIVE
Cris pulled a green pepper from atop the piece of pizza on her plate and popped it into her mouth. "Maybe you shouldn't just settle on being a private investigator. You could do the whole lawyer gig thing like your brother. If you start school now, you won't be too far behind him when he graduates next year. You could even, like, totally start a firm together and stuff. You could be the brains, and he could be the brawn." She gasped as she paused to pluck another veggie and hovered it at her lips. "I'd totally hire you. Maybe you could even bury Max's wife in so much legal paperwork that she'd have to be buried for real." An evil smile curled her lips as she popped the veggie into her mouth.
I took a bite of my slice of pizza, still piping hot from the oven, and contemplated her words, wondering if I should burst her bubble by telling her how many years a law degree took. But I was in my own ego bubble. I could still hear the police detective's words of encouragement after I'd called him with my find, telling me he'd heard of the guy and that he had well known ties to the Mafia. My ego swelled even more as I played the scene through my mind a few more times.
Cristal snapped her fingers in front of my face. "Earth to Bree."
"Sorry."
"The doorbell just rang. Don't you suppose we should check that out?"
"Right." I bounced to my feet and scurried out into the lobby. A burly, dark-haired man in a black suit and a loud, multicolored checkered tie stood beside the desk, arms folded over his chest. He had his chin jutted just enough that he was staring down his nose at me with an uneasy gaze.
"Which one of you is Bree Milford?" he snapped, glancing between Cris and me.
Cris bounded toward the stairs like a frightened deer, clinging to the wrought iron banister. She pointed a trembling finger at me as though he had a gun wavering between us.
Part of me wanted to flee too. The other part, full of stubborn pride and oozing sarcasm, just stood her ground. It was yet to be determined which half was the smarter of the two. I turned my attention to who I was sure was Detective Marshall. That was a voice you couldn't easily forget. I extended my hand, and he briefly shook it. "I'm Bree."
He flashed his badge as he cast a guarded scan around the room, his gaze stopping on Cris, giving her the up and down before returning to me. "Is there somewhere we can talk privately?"
Without being asked, she flew up the stairs and disappeared into her room, the door punctuating her exit with a loud slam.
I gestured toward the sofa. "Will this work?"
He nodded. When I finally realized he was waiting for me to take a seat, I crowded myself into a corner, and he sat at the opposite end.
"I thought you'd want to know that Mr. James was found in New York and brought in for questioning there."
I tried to keep my inner beaming smile at an outwardly acceptable grin, but I could feel it kind of take over my face anyway. "Do you need the
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