12 Days Read Online Free Page B

now pressing against the back of his eyes. But no, he would have to be content with the salty pleasures of his meal and the potential of what was to come. Less than ten hours , he reminded himself, less than ten hours. Soon you’ll be quiet, my little dove.
     
    Day One: 2:59 p.m.
    The West Covina police station was essentially a large room with six desks and a holding cell. There was an office for the lieutenant and a conference room in the back, but a tour of the facility normally took little more than a sweep of the eyes. Jim did not give Lisa a tour. He led her to his desk and sat her down on a very uncomfortable chair.
    “Would you like some coffee?”
    “Yes, thanks. Cream, if you have it.”
    She was already keyed up from her earlier caffeine jolt and from the discovery on the tree, but what the hell, she liked the feeling. It made the excitement more intense. Jim returned moments later with two paper cups of something that looked like coffee. With the added cream, Lisa tasted something reminiscent of a glass of dishwater and milk, but she sipped it like a trooper, hiding her grimace as Jim sat down in his chair. Jim was not so polite. Upon his first taste, he gagged and shouted to no one in particular.
    “Jesus Christ, who made this shit?’
    Lisa smiled. A voice from across the room shouted back. It was Roy Winston.
    “This ain’t Starbucks, princess.”
    Roy swiveled on his chair and saw Jim sitting with an attractive brunette.
    “Why are you back here, anyway?”
    “Just got some things to check on,”
    “Like dead St. Nick?”
    “Yeah.”
    Jim got up from his chair and headed in Roy’s direction.
    “Got anything identifying the victim yet?”
    “Prints came back from the California Bar Association. Our dead Santa is Paul Anthony Artridge, 9776 Wilshire Blvd. #1403, Los Angeles, California. Apparently, he was some hot shot litigation attorney, a partner in a big firm in Century City.”
    “What the fuck was he doing in West Covina?”
    “Besides hanging from a tree?”
    Jim gave Roy his ‘fuck you’ look.
    Roy continued.
    “The jumpsuits found ligature marks around the guy’s wrists and traces of chloroform on toxicology screen. Mr. Artridge did not kill himself. He definitely had help.”
    Jim was not surprised. When something looks and feels like homicide, it usually is.
    “I asked forensics to print the Civic around the corner; could you let me know when the results are back?”
    “You got it.” Roy nodded towards Lisa, “Who’s the chick?”
    “Witness who found the body. Just got some questions I need to ask.”
    “Yeah, I’d like to ask her some questions, too.”
    Jim flipped Roy the bird and walked back to his desk. He was shuffling some papers when Lisa broke the silence.
    “I’ve been living in West Covina for three years, Officer Jovian. Besides the occasional gang banger, I don’t remember there being that many murders in the area. This has to be a big deal for you guys.”
    Jim put the papers aside.
    “Why do you assume that this was a murder, Ms. Klein?”
    “Come on, Officer Jovian, of course he was murdered. I mean, he could have done it himself but there was no ladder and that branch might not have supported his weight while he tied the rope.”
    Jim looked at her and said nothing. He sipped his coffee, thinking.
    “What do you think about the one carved into the tree?” Lisa asked.
    “I don’t know yet.”
    “Do you think the killer put it there?”
    “Maybe. It’s impossible to know at this point. I mean it could have been made by anyone. Maybe two young lovers to commemorate their first kiss.”
    Lisa smiled at the thought of the officer being a romantic.
    “That’s very sweet, but you don’t think that, do you? I mean really.”
    Jim shook his head.
    “No.”
    “Me neither. You think the killer was telling us that this was just the beginning?”
    Jim looked away from her, staring into the murky brown water of his Styrofoam cup.
    “Do you think there