An Appetite for Murder Read Online Free Page A

fruitcake, and the detective jotted a note on a pad on the desk.
    “You’ve had no contact with her with regard to this magazine you mentioned?” he asked.
    “None. So far the application process has been conducted by e-­mail.” I twisted my hands in my lap. “She did mention last night that they have some strong applicants.”
    For the next fifteen minutes, Bransford led me through my short history of Key West. I spilled the humiliating details of how I’d fallen for Chad in New Jersey, moved down here to be with him, and found myself homeless, jobless, and manless, all inside of three months.
    Bransford scrawled a few more lines of notes and then looked up. “So would you say that Kristen Faulkner was responsible for all that?”
    “In a way,” I said. “But not really . . . ​I can’t blame her for everything . . . ​My father is always telling me I should look before I leap.”
    “Did she know that you were involved with Mr. Lutz?”
    “How could she not?” I asked. “My stuff was all over the apartment.” My throat closed up and my eyes brimmed with tears. “Until he put it out on the sidewalk. Which didn’t take long.”
    Bransford passed me a Kleenex. “Just to review, you say you were on the houseboat all morning?”
    I nodded quickly and recovered my voice. “Connie, who owns the boat, wouldn’t be able to verify it, but I swear it’s the truth.”
    Chief Barnes broke in. “Won’t it be easier for you to get this magazine job that you want so much with Miss Faulkner out of the way?”
    My mouth dropped open as I took in what he was suggesting. “Oh my God . . . ​Listen, I disliked Kristen Faulkner right down to her plucked eyebrows, but I never would have killed her. Never. No matter how much I wanted to land that job.” At this point, no amount of face scrunching could have stopped the tears. I blew my nose into the crumpled tissue. “Do I need a lawyer?”
    The detective rose to his feet and hulked over me. “Miss Snow, you are not accused of anything. Yet. But we’ll need to be in touch with you again soon. That means do
not
leave the island without contacting us first. Not even over the bridge to Stock Island. You can understand that we need you to make yourself readily available until we complete this investigation.”
    I didn’t really understand what else I could contribute, but I gulped and nodded. The other men got up too, and I bolted from the room and scurried down the hallway, out into the bright sun.
    “I’d just as soon walk home,” I told Torrence, who followed me out. It was only a quarter of a mile, but he looked at me as if I’d said I’d be hiking back to Jersey. Finally, he dipped his head and I jogged out of the parking lot toward Roosevelt Boulevard.
    “Free at last,” I called dramatically as I ran, throwing my arms open to the sky. Which probably sounded a little silly if anyone was listening, but I’d felt like I couldn’t
breathe
in that police station. Good God, Kristen had been
murdered
. And they were questioning
me
. So then I punched Chad’s office number on my speed dial. He wouldn’t take my call, but his assistant, Deena, would. And she knew every lawyer in Key West.
    Unfortunately, Chad—­who never answered his number if he could get someone else to do it for him—­picked up.
    “It’s Hayley,” I stammered. “Sorry for your loss.” I was sorry. A little.
    “I don’t want to talk to you right now,” he answered. “In fact, I don’t want to hear from you again, ever. I can’t believe—”
    “I didn’t call to talk to you,” I said. “I called for Deena. The cops hauled me down to the police station to interrogate me about Kristen. They seem to think I might have killed her. I was going to ask Deena if I needed to hire a lawyer.”
    “I can’t help you,” said Chad, “and neither can she. As you can very well imagine, this is not a good time for me.”
    “It’s not such a good time for me,