Plateful of Murder Read Online Free Page B

house. Every room is ripped apart.”
    The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention. “Are you okay?”
    “Just shaken up.”
    “Call the police. I’ll be right there.” I scrambled out of bed and threw on some clothes, all the while scolding myself for not seeing this coming. But then, the cops hadn’t thought about it either.
    The police got there first. I’d no sooner stepped through Michael’s door when Detective ‘Blue Eyes’ Corrigan snarled, “Doing a bang-up job of working with the police, I see.”
    My eyes became saucers. To say I was blindsided was an understatement. “What do you mean?”
    Corrigan waved a piece of paper under my nose. “Did you happen to see this?” Before any words managed to pass my lips, he leaned in so close I could smell his spicy cologne, and it was tempting to just close my eyes and inhale. His stern tone stopped me mid-breath. “It’s evidence. You know what that is, don’t you?”
    My first impulse was to step back. Instead, I held my ground. It wouldn’t look good for Michael’s PI to weasel away. “Yes. Of course.” I crossed my arms then remembered this gesture could be viewed as a sign of self-protection, and uncrossed them. No need to let Corrigan think he intimidated me, even if he did. “But I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Sure you don’t.” He rapped the paper against the palm of his hand. “It happens to be a list of initials Constance Adler wrote down before she died. The funny thing is, we might never have seen it, if this break-in hadn’t occurred.”
    “I’ve never seen that piece of paper before.” It might have helped if Corrigan had let me read the list, but it was plain to see, cooperation wasn’t on his mind. Maybe Michael could tell me the list’s meaning after the police were gone. If he knew.
    I made it a point to turn my back on Corrigan. After all, Michael’s welfare was my job, not arguing with a detective carrying an attitude along with his badge.
    Speaking of Michael, the poor guy sat in a chair in his torn-apart living room. His clothes were so wrinkled it was like he’d been knocked down and walked on. Angry shaving nicks covered his face. Only a fool would believe Michael was coping with his sister’s murder. Everything about him shouted his misery. I fought the wild urge to cradle him like a little kid who’s skinned his knee. I crouched down and kept my voice soft. “Michael, did you see anyone lurking around the house?”
    He shook his head, his jaw clenched. But the look in his eyes surprised me. I expected fear, maybe shock, but his stony glare shouted angry-as-hell to me.
    Corrigan tapped his foot. “We’ve already been through that.”
    I took a deep breath and waited. “Michael?”
    Michael’s legs bounced up and down and his hands clutched the armrests so tight his knuckles were white. “Didn’t see anyone, but this had everything to do with Constance’s murder.”
    Almost in unison, Detective Corrigan and I said, “We’ll get whoever did this.” For a second I thought we could continue working with that same cohesion and maybe even goodwill. But he destroyed that notion with his next words. “Of course, it would help if Ms. DeNardo kept us informed.”
    Trying my best to ignore Corrigan and his unhelpful comments, I asked Michael, “Do you want to spend the night here or go to a hotel? A hotel may be best, at least for tonight.” Most people wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping in a house right after someone had broken into it. A shiver ran through me at the thought of someone breaking into my home, maybe even going through my underwear drawer. I resolved to do laundry tomorrow.
    “I’m staying.”
    Corrigan shook his head firmly. “Not a good idea. Whoever did this might return.”
    Michael’s voice was controlled fury. “I’ll be ready.”
    Whatever he had in mind couldn’t be good. “You’re angry and that’s understandable. But sometimes it makes people do the