Fearless in High Heels Read Online Free

did a little one finger wave his direction.  “Hi, honey.”
    My husband did not wave back.  No smile, no hint of amusement whatsoever.  In his defense, I guess finding your wife at your crime scene wasn’t every detective’s dream.  But, in my defense, you’d think he’d be used to it by now.   
    I cleared my throat again and shifted nervously in my seat.
    Ramirez crossed his arms over his chest.  He looked from me to the yellow tape being stretched across the ladies’ room door.  Back to me.  Then he slowly shook his head.
    “Lucy, you got some ‘splainin’ to do.  Again. ”
    I gulped.  No kidding.
    “Look, it wasn’t my fault,” I protested.  “I just had to pee.”
    “You always have to pee.  You don’t always find dead bodies.”
    “I’d like you to remember that statement in the future.”
    He shot me a dark look.  “Just tell me what happened, Springer.”
    Ouch.  Last name.  He was serious.  I shifted again, then spilled it in the best so-not-my-fault way I could, telling him how I’d encountered Skinny Bitch Chick in the ladies’ room.
    When I was done he gave me a long, hard stare.  “What on earth possessed you to take our unborn baby to a club in the first place?” he finally said.
    I blinked at him.  “Excuse me, last time I checked this was still my body.”
    “Carrying our baby.”
    “Well for another four months she goes where I go, and if I want to go to a club, I’m going.  Besides, it’s a club not a shooting range.  What danger could she possibly be in?”
    “Besides his mother getting in an altercation with a woman just before she’s murdered?”
    I bit my lip.  “Oh.  You heard about that, huh?”
    He nodded.  “Oh yeah.  I heard.  Apparently witnesses said you threatened to kill her?  To suffocate her to death?”
    “She called me fat!” I protested.
    Ramirez closed his eyes.  He did a silent two count, and I could see him employing a couple of those deep Lamaze breaths I’d been learning.   
    “Let’s get back to the body,” he finally said, opening his eyes again.  “You said you found her in the restroom, correct?”
    I nodded.  “She was in a stall.”
    “Who else was in the restroom at the time?” he asked.
    I scrunched my nose up, trying to remember specifics.  “There were some girls in front of the mirror, but they were just hanging out there.  And there was a couple getting busy in the stall next door.”
    The corner of Ramirez’s lip quirked up.  “’Getting busy’?”
    I felt myself blush.  “Doing… you know.  Anyway, no, I didn’t see anyone fleeing the scene with a knife in hand.”  I paused.  “Or a gun?” I asked, realizing I wasn’t exactly sure how Bitch Chick had met her demise.  Admittedly, I hadn’t done a thorough examination of the body in the stall. 
    Ramirez shook his head.  “No evidence of a gunshot so far.”
    “How did she die then?” I asked.
    Ramirez looked past me to the crime scene.  “We’ll have to wait for the M.E.’s report to be sure.  But it looks like exsanguination.”
    “She bled to death?” I clarified.
    Ramirez nodded. 
    I felt a frown pull between my brows.  “But there didn’t seem to be that much blood,” I pointed out, remembering the thin trickle I’d seen earlier.  “I mean, I saw a little on her dress, but not much.”
    He nodded.  “I know.  We’re looking into it.  It’s possible she was killed elsewhere then dumped here.”
    I felt my frown deepen.  Sure, that might have been possible… but only half an hour earlier she’d been at the bar insulting me.  That didn’t leave a lot of time for the killer to rush her somewhere else, bleed her to death, then rush her body back.
    “What makes you think she bled to death?” I asked, wondering if maybe their theory had some holes in it.
    Ramirez pursed his lips.  “There were lacerations on her neck.”
    “Lacerations?” I asked.  “Like, cuts?  Stab wounds?”
    He frowned.