An Appetite for Murder Read Online Free

and another man were waiting in a small room down the right hall. With a lurch in my stomach, I recognized Chief Ron Barnes from his photos in the
Key West Citizen
. Why was he here?
    A little late, it occurred to me that I could be in serious trouble.
    “Miss Snow,” said Detective Bransford without preamble, “how did you know Kristen Faulkner?”
    I snuck a look at each impassive face, hoping for a little sympathy. They stared back, stone-­carved andimmovable. “I only met her twice in passing. I can’t say I really
knew
her, if you know what I mean. But my boyfriend did. Rather too well, if you get my drift.”
    A puzzled look crept across Torrence’s features.
    “What I mean is, she was naked the first time I saw her. In bed with my boyfriend. Skewered.”
    I knew as soon as they were out of my mouth, those words sounded bad, like I was trying to throw Chad under the bus. It was just that the shock of that moment could still creep up and pound me like a meat mallet. I scrunched my face to keep from crying.
    Torrence looked like he was trying not to laugh, but the other two were still frowning. I continued to babble.
    “Other than that, she’s the new co-­owner of the style magazine where I’m applying for a job. The writing samples are due at the end of the week. But you can see how acquiring Kristen as my boss wouldn’t exactly be an ­asset . . .” My words faded. Was it nerves making me yammer foolishly, or fear? Chad would have had my head for talking to these cops without a lawyer. If he cared—­and let’s face it, how much clearer could he have been that he didn’t?
    “So let me get this straight,” said Detective Cleft Chin. “She had an affair with your boyfriend—”
    “Stole him right out from under me,” I said. “Next thing I knew, I had to find a room to rent or head home to New Jersey. That’s why I’m living on my college roommate, Connie’s, houseboat. She said I could work some shifts in her cleaning service in exchange for a place to live until I get back on my feet. My room’s a little cramped—­minuscule really—­and she uses half my closetspace for storing her supplies, so it always smells a little like bleach. But on the other hand, she let me bring Evinrude and not many landlords allow cats.”
    Detective Bransford massaged his forehead. “Was your roommate home with you this morning?”
    “I can’t say exactly when she left, but she was gone by the time I got up. She’s a hustler—­she takes any job she can get—­the early bird and the worm and all that—”
    The chief flashed a timeout signal and the detective nodded curtly. “Miss Snow, were you aware of anyone else who might have felt animosity toward Kristen Faulk­ner?”
    Anyone
else
? “Honestly, I barely knew her.”
    “Any drug problems? Money problems? History of domestic abuse?”
    I shook my head again, fingers pressed to my temples where a headache had begun to pound. “I have no idea.”
    “Miss Snow, where were you today between the hours of six and ten a.m.?” asked the detective.
    “Right where you found me, Detective, on the houseboat. Just like I told you.” My mouth went dry. “Wait a minute, what is this about?”
    “It appears that Kristen Faulkner was murdered.” That pronouncement came from the chief.
    The way the questions had been coming, this shouldn’t have been a surprise. Still, a sickening pit yawned in my stomach and for one brief moment I was speechless.
    “When did you last see Miss Faulkner?” the chief asked.
    “The bed incident,” I whispered. “I never saw her after that.” I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. “Wait, that’snot right. My ex was out to dinner with her last night in the restaurant where I ate.”
    Bransford leaned a little closer. “Did you two talk?”
    “Not really,” I said. “I said hello and she blew me off. So I suggested they order the crab cakes.”
    The cops exchanged glances, as though they’d gotten hold of a real