Lost Souls J. Bishop (motivational books for students .txt) 📖

and seeing my handsome face. She’ll be too curious to stop herself.”

“You really are a piece of─”

The door opened, and Trick smiled at the woman who stood there, wearing the robe he’d seen her in earlier. She smiled back, and her eyes traveled over him, then her smile faded when she spotted Valerie. “How can I help you?”

“Michelle Stanford?” asked Valerie.

“Who’s asking?”

Valerie held out her identification. “I’m private investigator Valerie Vain, and this attractive fellow is my…” she cleared her throat, “…assistant, Trick Monroe.” Trick raised a brow at her, but Valerie barely offered him a glance. “You mind if we ask you a few questions about your daughter, Lydia?”

“Lydia?” asked Michelle. “She died.”

“Yes, we know,” said Trick. “Our condolences.”

Her gaze met his. “Thank you.”

“But we have some questions about her death,” said Trick. “We also understand she may have had a relationship with a man named Chad Howard, who was murdered.”

Michelle held her chest. “I was about to get in the shower.”

“I promise, ma’am.” He took off his hat and aimed a tender look at her. “We won’t take much of your time.”

“I already talked to someone on the phone about this. Was it you?” She looked at Valerie.

“No, ma’am. It wasn’t me. But we do have additional questions, if that’s okay?” asked Valerie.

“Well, all right. I guess so. Come in.” She stood back and opened the door wider.

Trick stepped inside, and Valerie followed. “We appreciate it, ma’am,” said Trick.

“Call me Michelle.” She shut the door behind them.

Trick surveyed the austere room with muted colors. A blue sofa sat against a paneled wall with a glass coffee table in front of it and a piled gray carpet beneath it. The linoleum floor kitchen with yellow cabinets and a small four-person breakfast table was to his right, and a small bar with two shelves of liquor and few highball glasses stood against the wall in front of him. Trick spotted a glass half-filled with amber liquid on an end table beside the couch. He put his hat on the coffee table and ruffled his hair. “And you can call me Trick.”

Michelle straightened her robe and ran a hand through her own brown hair, which was pulled back, but slightly out of place, as if she’d hastily thrown it into a ponytail.

Valerie stood off to the side and surveyed the room, her gaze settling on the glass on the end table.

“What can I do for you, Trick?” asked Michelle. She ignored Valerie.

“I’ll get straight to the point, ma’am…I mean Michelle. We’re wondering if Lydia’s death wasn’t an accident, and that whoever may have killed her, killed Chad, too.”

She stared for a second, but then sighed. “That wouldn’t surprise me in the least.” She walked into the kitchen. “You want some coffee?”

Trick and Valerie made eye contact. “Love some,” said Trick.

“Why do you say that wouldn’t surprise you?” asked Valerie.

Michelle grabbed a coffee pot and glanced at Valerie. “My daughter didn’t always make smart decisions, and she wasn’t good at social graces, either. She didn’t make friends easily, and chose her lovers poorly. On top of that, let’s just say she had a wealth of experience with medication that would impress a pharmacist. In my mind, it was just a matter of time before her behavior caught up with her. I’m just surprised the police haven’t figured it out.” She added water to the pot and poured it into the coffeemaker.

“Can you get into more specifics, about her behavior?” asked Trick.

“You mean like erratic outbursts, dramatic highs and lows, sleeping too much or too little, and strange phobias and OCD issues, like having to put her food in specific places on her plate, and some nonsense about not wanting her picture taken.” She pulled a bag from a cabinet and pointed at a picture on the wall. “I think that’s the only one I have of her, and that’s from her college graduation. I had to blackmail her to get it.” After opening the bag, she scooped out some grounds and added them to a filter in the machine. “That girl even refused to get a driver’s license because it required a photo. Said she didn’t particularly like driving anyway, so it didn’t matter. I could never convince her otherwise.”

Trick wandered over and looked at the picture on the wall. Two women and a man stood on the steps in front of an impressive building; one woman wore a cap and gown, her bangs barely showing from beneath the cap, and looked annoyed. He guessed it was Lydia. The other woman, with her dark hair blowing in the wind and smiling, had to be Shay. Bradley, with broad shoulders and a stocky build, stood between them, his dark eyes narrowed at the camera and his arms around both women. “Nice photo.”

“Oh, please,” said Michelle, flipping on the machine. “It’s terrible. But it’s one of the few times I could get all three of them together without Lydia snarling, Shay arguing, or Bradley incoherent.”

“It sounds like all of the siblings have their issues,” said Valerie. “How’d they get along?”

“Get along?” Michelle snorted, closing the bag of grounds. “None of us get along.” She put the bag away. “Like I told that other woman I spoke with, we’ve had our share of ups and downs. I’ve been married a few times, which is where Lydia probably inherited her luck with men.” As the coffee percolated, she launched into her history, starting with Lydia and Bradley’s dad and ending with the dissolution of her marriage to Shay’s father, and her current marriage, which according to her, was going smoothly. Trick let her talk, remembering how Mikey had told them that Michelle liked to make herself the center of attention, and wanting her to get comfortable. His hope was she’d stay that way once the questions got harder.

The coffee drips slowing, she pulled down a couple of mugs.

“None for me, I’m not much of a coffee drinker,” said Valerie.

“More for me then,” said Trick. “I didn’t