Witness to Murder Read Online Free

on Annie, Frank," Callie answered. "You may not like her, but you have to give her the benefit of the doubt. I think you're trying to make a mystery where none exists. What Joe needs is a decent lawyer, not a detective looking for motives that aren't there." "Yeah, I keep telling myself that. Maybe I need a vacation." Frank smiled at the pretty blond girl sitting opposite him. He watched as she echoed a smile by lifting the edges of her mouth in a slow grin that spread infectiously up to her understanding eyes. Callie was the world's most patient understanding friend. Frank felt lucky that she put up with him.
    "Listen, Callie," he said, polishing off a hamburger. "I've some more ground to cover. Will you wait for me if I run?" "Don't I always?" Callie said, deciding at the last minute to make it a joke. Frank smiled and sketched a quick wave as he dashed out. Maybe he was inventing this case, but he was determined to check out every angle for Joe's sake. Callie was right in saying a good lawyer could get Joe off, but Frank didn't want Joe to be left dealing with another guilt trip. Frank didn't even know what he was looking for at this point, but he was going to investigate every detail.
    The Bayport Downtowner was once in the heart of Bayport, but the center of the city's activities had moved. The neighborhood had been left to change with the times. Trouble was, it couldn't be changed for the better.
    Half the fluorescent tubes in the fixture in the entrance of the cheap hotel were broken. The windowpane in the main door was cracked, and the door itself stuck when Frank tugged on it.
    Behind the counter a clerk nodded sleepily in the dusty air of the lobby, air that had trapped stale cigar smoke. Two elderly men sat in a lobby off the entryway, watching a game show on TV.
    "Ahem." Frank cleared his throat to alert the clerk that he had a potential customer.
    "Oh, hello. Want a room?" The man behind the desk was past retirement age, and Frank figured he'd taken the job to have something to do. The salary couldn't be much.
    "Can you tell me what room Phil Sidler is in?" Frank asked for starters.
    "Unfortunately, Mr. Sidler doesn't live here anymore." The clerk flashed a toothless grin.
    "Okay, what room did he have when he did live here?" Frank found he didn't have his usual patience with people.
    "Won't do me any good to tell you. Police have it sealed off. Why do you want to know? Was Sidler a friend of yours? Police might want to talk to you." The old man wasn't dumb.
    "A friend of mine thought she left her purse in his room. I said I'd get it back for her." It was a clumsy story but the best Frank could come uf with on the spur of the moment.
    "Cops took everything." The man relented for a moment as he added, "Two-oh-nine, second floor, corner. But you'd better try the police first, sonny." The clerk, tired of acting important, walked over to the small lobby full of faded easy chairs and joined the two men watching the game show.
    Frank hesitated. The clerk really didn't seem to-care if he went up for a look. He glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then huriedly he took the stairs two at a time. Upstairs, Frank read the police notice on Phil's room and turned the knob once. The door was locked. Disappointed, he slipped back downstairs and out the building. He stood on the sidewalk for a moment, looking up at the grimy facade of the hotel.
    Suddenly Frank realized that the rusty fire escape outside the corner room. He got a couple of wooden crates left in a nearby alley. He piled the crates up in a shaky tower beneath the fire escape and climbed it. He was almost able to reach the bottom rung of the Ladder, which hung down from the second-floor landing.
    As Frank jumped up to grab the ladder, the crates collapsed with a loud crash. For a moment he swung helplessly in empty space, one hand clutching the metal rung, waiting for someone to come out to see what was going on. But no one bothered.
    Instead, the rusty