Murder in the River City(21)

“Ms. Murphy,” John said, “I understand you’re trying to help, but you should have called when you realized something was out of place.”

She put her hands on her hips and her skin reddened. Sam tried to stop her temper, but she let loose. “I did call you! I called as soon as I saw that the desk was a mess. I had already cleaned out the perishable food and put the garbage by the door—” They all turned and looked at the door.

The garbage bag was gone.

“That’s just great. A thief who takes out the garbage! I’m going to Dooley’s. Call me when you know anything.” She walked out.

“She shouldn’t be driving,” Sam said.

“Buddy, I’m really sorry. She’s called me so much these last two days—I ignored it.”

“It’s not your fault. I’ll talk to her again, make sure she understands she needs to give us time to do our job. She’s impulsive with a temper, but she’s not irresponsible.”

John nodded. “Find out about that beer she remembers. We can pull security tapes if we have a location.”

“Already planned on it.” He paused. “You know, this break-in means Mack’s murder might have nothing to do with the pub break-in.”

“Yep. I agree. It also means he might have been involved in something a bit shady.”

Sam agreed, but didn’t say anything.

“I already started a cursory background check. I’m going to dig deeper. Might want to give Shauna a heads up.”

“I’ll do that. See you in the morning.”

Sam walked out and was surprised to find Shauna sitting outside the door.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” she said.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I heard everything.”

He expected an argument, but she didn’t say anything. Sam extended his hand and she took it. He helped her up, noticing she winced. “You okay with what we find?”

“I’ll have to be.” She looked at him, her eyes red from tears and pain. “All I want is the truth. I want to know who killed Mack and why. And then I want them to spend the rest of their miserable, rotten lives in jail.”





Chapter Nine



Shauna wished she hadn’t told Sam she wanted to go to Dooley’s. All she really wanted was to go home and go to bed. Fortunately, Mike got there quick and checked her over. He wanted her to go to the hospital because she had a mild concussion, but she refused. Finally, he told her he was staying overnight, that he’d run home and pack an overnight bag. “Take her home, Sam. I’ll be there in an hour, tops.”

Shauna drove herself—it wasn’t far—and Sam followed. She was thankful her brother hadn’t pushed her for more details, though she was pretty certain he’d be pushing her tonight.

She’d bought a Victorian house last year when the California housing market had hit rock bottom. Housing hadn’t improved much, but she didn’t plan on selling any time soon. She’d bought the house because of the structure—it was sound, with unique architecture circa 1900. It was a rare three-story, single-family home with a basement that had never been converted to apartments, with a grand but worn wood staircase in the entry. Some people might have thought her foolish for buying a house more than a century old, but she’d fallen in love. And love couldn’t always be explained by words.

Though the bones of the house were solid, there was a lot of work that needed to be done. She’d moved in before most people would have—the water heater was old and barely offered lukewarm showers, the air conditioning was from the 1970s with two big box units sticking out of the dining room and master bedroom windows respectfully. The kitchen had been updated in the 1950s with an antique but functional gas stove, tiny refrigerator, and no dishwasher. She’d barely touched the horrid 1960s wallpaper that plastered the downstairs and had cringed when she realized one of the previous owners had painted over real oak panels in the upstairs bedrooms.

There were several things that made the house loveable, especially to her trained eye. She yearned to bring the house to its full potential. Though it might take ten years to do everything she wanted, she was excited about the possibilities.

She drove down the narrow driveway to the single-car garage in the back. Sam parked in front of the house. She walked back down the drive and Sam met her on the wide front porch. “This is your place?”

“Don’t sound surprised.”

“I’m not. I just didn’t realize you’d bought it. You used to drive by it all the time.”

Shauna was stunned he remembered.

“I’m fine. I’m home. Mike’s coming over. You can go.”