Dearly Departed Carly Winter (ebook reader for pc TXT) 📖

charge of a serial killer task force,” I whispered, aware that I was revealing Bill’s secret when he specifically asked me not to. But Donna and I shared just about everything, so I knew she could be trusted. I harbored no guilt. “He was called in because he thought Charles may have been a victim.”

Donna gasped and placed her hand over her mouth. “He was kind of a weirdo but... oh, my gosh. A serial killer!”

“Agent Hart says that he wasn't murdered by the serial killer though. So now, he's helping a friend in the police department by investigating the case.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I noted the group of girls we'd waited with outside approaching us. I shook my head, hoping to indicate to Donna that the conversation had ended.

“Hey!” No-Bra Girl said. “We wanted to invite you to the rally this weekend.” We each took the sheet of paper she handed us. “It's a women's equality march.”

“We're also going to burn some foam domes!” her friend said. “We hope to see you there!”

As the girls found their next invite, I stared at the paper. I wouldn't burn any of my bras--they were too expensive and I needed them for work. However, I could probably be talked into tossing a girdle into the flames.

“Are you going to be around?” I asked Donna, holding up the piece of paper.

She shook her head. “I'm flying, but it would be fun to go.”

“I think so, too,” I murmured. “I'll be back to work by then, though. I hope so, anyway.”

“Yes. We don't have that luxury. We've got to pay our bills.”

I nodded and gathered my bag, then stood.

And solve a murder.

Chapter 14

Instead of coming home with me, Donna mentioned a trip to the grocery store and a few other errands. We parted, and I met Bill back at my apartment where I shed my coat and purse. We then headed downstairs.

“What have you been up to today?” he asked as we rode the elevator.

“I went to the library to research women killers.”

With an arched brow, he glanced over at me. “And how did that go?”

“It was interesting,” I said, lacing my fingers together in front of me as I stared at the number above. “I do believe with the proper motive a woman can kill very easily… even with a knife.”

“So, a crime of passion?” Bill asked.

“Well, I would say passionate rage. She’d have to be terribly angry. For instance, perhaps she’s so furious her husband won’t sign the divorce papers no matter how many times she asks.”

“You really like Claudia for the crime, huh?”

The pieces fit: she had a motive. She had the ability to get close to Charles without him being worried or feeling attacked. Driving a knife into his stomach would have been easy if she had the guts to do it.” Yet, something didn’t sit quite right with me, although I couldn’t pinpoint what. “I don’t think she can be ignored just because she’s a woman and I do believe her finances should be investigated. If she didn’t kill him because he wouldn’t sign the papers, perhaps she did because she’s desperate for his money.”

I couldn’t meet Bill’s gaze because I was afraid I’d find a look I had seen far too often in my life: a man staring at me with a condescending smile, almost as if he was sorry for how stupid I was.

“Well, I’ll give it some consideration,” Bill said. “It’s a long shot, but she does have not one, but two possible motives. I doubt much will come of it, but I appreciate your efforts.”

His response was better than I anticipated. I pursed my lips together to hide my smile. A G-woman in the making.

“We’ll need to make this interview quick,” Bill said. “I have to catch my plane home.”

A sinking feeling settled in my stomach when I realized I didn’t want him to leave. He’d brought a new dimension into my life I never expected, and one that made me feel alive. Never could I have imagined that I’d be hanging out with an FBI agent and talking to potential murder suspects!

We reached apartment 2C and I could smell the weed being smoked inside even with the door closed.

“The super said this guy’s name is Bob Briston,” Bill said as he knocked.

My long-haired and heavily bearded twenty-something-year-old neighbor answered the door wearing nothing but a cloud of smoke. With a gasp, I averted my eyes from his thin frame.

In-the-Buff Bob.

“Mr. Briston?” Bill asked, waving his hand in front of his face to clear the haze.

“Come in, come in, man,” Robert said, stepping to the side. “Even the fuzz can join us in our quest for peace and love.”

Two things struck me as I stepped inside. First, Bill hadn’t even introduced himself and he’d been labeled a police officer. Was it the suit? The short hair? The closely shaven jaw? Second, Bob had company. I counted ten people lying on towels where the living room furniture should have been, all naked as the day they were born, chanting something indecipherable. The lights had been turned off, the windows covered in black paper, and dozens of candles lit the room. I coughed as the smell of marijuana, wax, and body odor all co-mingled in one overpowering scent.

“Oh, my word,” I whispered as I tried to avoid seeing all the genitalia on display. No matter where I looked, I found more.

Bill held out his badge. “Are you Robert Briston?”

“That’s my Christian name, but I go by Liberty, man. I’m truly free of all the trappings of this world.”

Bill smiled and nodded. “Congratulations, Liberty. How lucky you are. I was wondering if we could talk somewhere private for a few minutes.”

“Sure, man. Follow me.”

The layout of the apartment was the same as mine. As he led us through the group of prone, chanting bodies into the bedroom, he bent over to pick up a lit joint. While I glanced away from that view,