Fit To Be Dead (An Aggie Mundeen Mystery Book 1) by Nancy G. West Page B
Authors: Nancy G. West
Tags: Women Sleuths, Romantic Comedy, cozy, amateur sleuth, cozy mystery, mystery books, english mysteries, female sleuths, murder mystery, mystery series, british mysteries, southern mystery, romcom, traditional mysteries, soft boiled mysteries
Ads: Link
police had asked her. I could learn whether Sam was involved in the investigation. Even though I was getting hungry, I decided not to eat at Tofu Temptations Grill. Their food was contaminated. I’d talk to Meredith and then eat at home.
I couldn’t find her, but Detective Garrett found me. When I apologized for my absence in the weight room, he squinted. “I just missed you. I heard you left in a hurry.”
Blinking at the floor, I told him I’d suffered a physical emergency that required me to leave. He didn’t pursue the subject. He led me to a small room on level two that the club had provided for questioning. “How long have you known Holly Holmgreen?”
I described what happened in the pool, how Sarah and I pulled Holly out and what she’d said in the lunchroom before she left the club for the last time.
“We learned she lived alone. Do you know anything about her associates? Who she dates?”
I had no idea. Garrett’s question indicated the police knew nothing about the baby she had placed for adoption. Or maybe they did know and were tracking down the father, but chose not to reveal the information.
Our interrogation room was so cramped, I could read Garrett’s notepad. Under Holly’s name, he’d written her address, so I memorized it. I shut my eyes and asked for forgiveness. But what better way to learn who killed Holly than to search her place?
When Garrett finished with me, I drove home with my stomach grumbling and my arms aching. How could I get into Holly’s apartment on Brees Boulevard? If she lived in the units I pictured, they were in a nice neighborhood off North New Braunfels. Residents were quiet and probably didn’t meddle, at least in public. Since Garrett said Holly lived alone, I wouldn’t have to worry about a husband or roommate. The police probably hadn’t roped off her apartment with crime scene tape. Calling attention to the unseemly event would upset the neighbors. SAPD had undoubtedly checked her living quarters, but maybe I could find some detail they missed.
I stopped at the Harry Wurzbach/Burr Road traffic light and stretched my arms. I definitely couldn’t tell Sam what I planned to do. He’d be furious if I usurped his and Garrett’s authority and ignored SAPD. If I did find something, my discovery could blight the department’s reputation.
Part of Sam’s suffering, I suspected, was from his inability to prevent Katy and Lee’s deaths. His feelings of responsibility weren’t rational, but his training included averting catastrophes. I knew he’d do everything possible to keep me from tracking down Holly’s killer. To get into her apartment, I’d have to be sneaky and fast. Fortunately, my legs felt operational.
In mystery novels, sleuths picked locks with a credit card, but I didn’t know how to do that. A dexterous person, I’d read, could pick a deadbolt lock by using a hairpin with the rubber tip pulled off. Being mechanically inept, I figured I’d still be probing when the cops came to haul me away.
After parking Albatross in my garage, I went into the kitchen to microwave a weenie and eat a banana. I needed sustenance to attend class and to gear up for breaking and entering. Maybe I could get Holly’s apartment manager to let me in. I could go just before 5:00 p.m., when the manager was about to close for the day, and conjure up something credible to tell him.
My stomach felt unsettled, but better than usual. I’d endured some pretty traumatic events. Whose stomach wouldn’t rebel? Body pain also contributed to nausea. I dressed in a beige sweater and slacks with no jewelry, swiped on pale lipstick and grabbed a crushable hat to cover my hair. To sneak into Holly’s apartment, I needed to be monochromatic and unmemorable.
Class didn’t start for an hour. To get my mind off planning an illegal entry, I decided to visit Grace. Just as I stepped outside my bungalow, a gold tone Lincoln Continental glided up to Grace’s curb. A
I couldn’t find her, but Detective Garrett found me. When I apologized for my absence in the weight room, he squinted. “I just missed you. I heard you left in a hurry.”
Blinking at the floor, I told him I’d suffered a physical emergency that required me to leave. He didn’t pursue the subject. He led me to a small room on level two that the club had provided for questioning. “How long have you known Holly Holmgreen?”
I described what happened in the pool, how Sarah and I pulled Holly out and what she’d said in the lunchroom before she left the club for the last time.
“We learned she lived alone. Do you know anything about her associates? Who she dates?”
I had no idea. Garrett’s question indicated the police knew nothing about the baby she had placed for adoption. Or maybe they did know and were tracking down the father, but chose not to reveal the information.
Our interrogation room was so cramped, I could read Garrett’s notepad. Under Holly’s name, he’d written her address, so I memorized it. I shut my eyes and asked for forgiveness. But what better way to learn who killed Holly than to search her place?
When Garrett finished with me, I drove home with my stomach grumbling and my arms aching. How could I get into Holly’s apartment on Brees Boulevard? If she lived in the units I pictured, they were in a nice neighborhood off North New Braunfels. Residents were quiet and probably didn’t meddle, at least in public. Since Garrett said Holly lived alone, I wouldn’t have to worry about a husband or roommate. The police probably hadn’t roped off her apartment with crime scene tape. Calling attention to the unseemly event would upset the neighbors. SAPD had undoubtedly checked her living quarters, but maybe I could find some detail they missed.
I stopped at the Harry Wurzbach/Burr Road traffic light and stretched my arms. I definitely couldn’t tell Sam what I planned to do. He’d be furious if I usurped his and Garrett’s authority and ignored SAPD. If I did find something, my discovery could blight the department’s reputation.
Part of Sam’s suffering, I suspected, was from his inability to prevent Katy and Lee’s deaths. His feelings of responsibility weren’t rational, but his training included averting catastrophes. I knew he’d do everything possible to keep me from tracking down Holly’s killer. To get into her apartment, I’d have to be sneaky and fast. Fortunately, my legs felt operational.
In mystery novels, sleuths picked locks with a credit card, but I didn’t know how to do that. A dexterous person, I’d read, could pick a deadbolt lock by using a hairpin with the rubber tip pulled off. Being mechanically inept, I figured I’d still be probing when the cops came to haul me away.
After parking Albatross in my garage, I went into the kitchen to microwave a weenie and eat a banana. I needed sustenance to attend class and to gear up for breaking and entering. Maybe I could get Holly’s apartment manager to let me in. I could go just before 5:00 p.m., when the manager was about to close for the day, and conjure up something credible to tell him.
My stomach felt unsettled, but better than usual. I’d endured some pretty traumatic events. Whose stomach wouldn’t rebel? Body pain also contributed to nausea. I dressed in a beige sweater and slacks with no jewelry, swiped on pale lipstick and grabbed a crushable hat to cover my hair. To sneak into Holly’s apartment, I needed to be monochromatic and unmemorable.
Class didn’t start for an hour. To get my mind off planning an illegal entry, I decided to visit Grace. Just as I stepped outside my bungalow, a gold tone Lincoln Continental glided up to Grace’s curb. A
Similar Books
