Read Online Dark Waters (The Jeff Resnick Mysteries) by LL Bartlett - Free Book Online

though we were tourists.
    The cue sticks were lined up in perfect order up on the wall. A rack filled with balls sat at the far end of the table. “Do you mind if I give it a try?” I asked.
    “Yes, I mind. It’s been sold. The new owners will take possession as soon as they hire someone qualified to move it. That in itself is going to cost thousands of dollars.”
    “How about you let him just hold one of the cue sticks?” Sam suggested.
    Mrs. Walburg looked appalled. “You came here to look — not touch,” she admonished.
    How wrong she was.
    I snapped eight or nine shots of the table and the room, although I wasn’t sure Sam actually intended to use the pictures to accompany his article. If nothing else, it allowed me to look the part of sidekick.
    “Can we continue the tour?” Sam asked.
    Mrs. Walburg scowled but led us to the grand staircase. “There are five bedrooms upstairs, all with en suites. The formal dining room and kitchen are this way.” She held out her hand to indicate where.
    “Would it be all right if we just wandered around the place and took a few more pictures?” Sam asked. He flashed his most winning smile.
    She sighed. “I suppose so. But I’d appreciate it if you could do so as quickly as possible. I do have my regular duties to perform.”
    And what would that entail? A stint with a broom — before she rode it?
    “We’ll try to take up as little of your time as we can,” Sam said sincerely, gave her another smile, and started up the stairs. I followed. Neither of us spoke until we’d reached the landing. “Getting any vibes?” Sam asked.
    “Only that I’m not a fan of Mrs. Walburg.”
    He held out a hand, indicating the door to my right. As Mrs. Walburg had said, we found the first of the five bedrooms. The walls were painted a warm apricot with an accent wall covered in what looked like a hand-stenciled fleur de lis pattern in gold leaf. I bent low and scratched one of the emblems and, sure enough, a fleck of gold came off on my thumbnail.
    “Expensive,” Sam noted.
    “I guess wallpaper was just too gauche.”
    No furniture or art graced the room. It wasn’t a large space, but big enough to hold a queen-sized bed and a small sitting area. At least the dents in the carpet seemed to indicate that. I flipped the light switch and a small chandelier glowed overhead, the prisms sparkling like diamonds. Had this been a guest room?
    “You said Morrow had kids,” I reminded him.
    “A son and a daughter, but I don’t believe either of them lived at home when he was led away in handcuffs.”
    I wandered into the bathroom, which was small, but adequate with a shower-tub combo, toilet, and pedestal sink. I turned on the light. The medicine cabinet over the sink was empty. I ran my hand along the doorframe, but got no psychic signals. Touching the faucet handles brought me no information, either.
    “Nothing?” Sam asked.
    I shook my head.
    We turned and went back out into the hall. The next room was a lot bigger, just as empty, and just as clean as the first. Clean in terms of tidiness and of psychic imprints. Though painted and wallpapered in other colors, the next two rooms were just the same. We were wasting our time.
    The master suite took up the south end of the second floor. Dual skylights lit the room, with built-in shades, as evidenced by the remote I found sitting on a windowsill. The room was huge, with enough space for a king-sized bed and a formal sitting area with a fireplace and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. I wandered around, standing in a number of places to try to soak up vibes … and picked up anger. It took me a few long moments to figure it out. Not so much anger, but frustration. Female frustration. Mr. Morrow, for all his supposed power and position, hadn’t been satisfying his wife for quite some time. Was it because he knew his whole Ponzi scheme was doomed to collapse or was it just the ravages of age? I had no clue.
    I wandered around. The room