Read Online Dark Waters (The Jeff Resnick Mysteries) by LL Bartlett - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: LL Bartlett
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sported two walk-in closets, each bigger than my bedroom over Richard’s garage. I found myself gravitating to the closet on the left, and switched on the light. A ripple of something seemed to crawl up my spine and I suffered an involuntary shudder.
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Sam commented. “I take it this was Morrow’s closet.”
I nodded, not that there was any physical evidence to prove it. But it had contained his clothing, his shoes, and they’d left an imprint on the walls and floor. Something flashed in my mind — like a light. Was it that damned near-death vision again? Unfortunately, whatever else I’d picked up wasn’t concrete.
“You’re frowning,” Sam said.
“I don’t know what it is I’m supposed to be picking up. If the guy was a prick, it’s not blasting through me.”
“I haven’t given you too much information because I want
you
to tell me about
him
.”
“I need something more substantial than walking into rooms where he’d been. Let’s face it; he hasn’t been in this house in what, a year or more?”
Sam frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Just what is it you want me to learn about the guy — besides where he hid the millions they haven’t yet found?”
“Anything that will help.”
“Help what?” I practically pleaded.
“I don’t know. And that’s why I wanted you onboard.”
I thought about it for a moment. “The fact that he had a house on Grand Cayman — doesn’t that say it all?”
He shook his head. “There are rumors that he converted money to jewelry, stamps, and coins, and that it’s spread out all over the Buffalo area.”
“Sounds more like wishful thinking on someone’s part,” I commented, switched off the light, and sidled past him to check out the bathroom which was nearly as big as the home’s smallest bedroom.
“Whoa,” Sam said with awe. “Check out that shower.”
The steam shower was not only big enough for half a football team, but had enough controls to outfit a rocket to the International Space Station. Multiple sets of water jets were positioned along the walls. A Jacuzzi soaker tub sat under a window with no curtains or blinds.
“Why is it rich people never have window coverings in their bathrooms?” I mused.
“Maybe they’re all a bunch of exhibitionists,” Sam suggested, looking through the window to the backyard beyond. A large in-ground pool had been covered for the winter, which reminded me that we only had days left to play with Richard’s boat before it, too, would again be unavailable for months on end. That is, if we could play with it at all. I wondered what his insurance agent had said. Maybe I’d call him later to find out. Much later.
Dual sinks sunk in granite lined the east wall, with separate medicine cabinets overhead — both empty. The cabinets below held nothing but cleaning products, extra boxes of tissues, and a couple of rolls of toilet paper.
“Unless the kitchen has anything the guy actually touched, we’re done,” I told Sam.
“Do you think you might get something off of one of those cue sticks?”
“They’re likely the only things left in the house that he touched. How are you going to distract Mrs. Walburg?”
“With my charm and good looks,” Sam said wryly.
Charm he had. Good looks? They had disappeared with his thinning hair. “I’ll corner the old lady and then you make a beeline to that game room. You might only have a minute or two.”
“Got it.”
We left the upstairs behind and went back downstairs, where we found Mrs. Walburg in the kitchen, polishing the already shiny taps. I kept to the far end, feigning interest in the wet bar, while Sam cornered Mrs. Walburg. “I have a few more questions for you, if you don’t mind,” he said smoothly, while I snapped a few more pictures.
“I suppose,” she said, her attention still riveted on the task before her.
I snapped a couple more photos and wandered out of the room. Once out of earshot, I
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Sam commented. “I take it this was Morrow’s closet.”
I nodded, not that there was any physical evidence to prove it. But it had contained his clothing, his shoes, and they’d left an imprint on the walls and floor. Something flashed in my mind — like a light. Was it that damned near-death vision again? Unfortunately, whatever else I’d picked up wasn’t concrete.
“You’re frowning,” Sam said.
“I don’t know what it is I’m supposed to be picking up. If the guy was a prick, it’s not blasting through me.”
“I haven’t given you too much information because I want
you
to tell me about
him
.”
“I need something more substantial than walking into rooms where he’d been. Let’s face it; he hasn’t been in this house in what, a year or more?”
Sam frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Just what is it you want me to learn about the guy — besides where he hid the millions they haven’t yet found?”
“Anything that will help.”
“Help what?” I practically pleaded.
“I don’t know. And that’s why I wanted you onboard.”
I thought about it for a moment. “The fact that he had a house on Grand Cayman — doesn’t that say it all?”
He shook his head. “There are rumors that he converted money to jewelry, stamps, and coins, and that it’s spread out all over the Buffalo area.”
“Sounds more like wishful thinking on someone’s part,” I commented, switched off the light, and sidled past him to check out the bathroom which was nearly as big as the home’s smallest bedroom.
“Whoa,” Sam said with awe. “Check out that shower.”
The steam shower was not only big enough for half a football team, but had enough controls to outfit a rocket to the International Space Station. Multiple sets of water jets were positioned along the walls. A Jacuzzi soaker tub sat under a window with no curtains or blinds.
“Why is it rich people never have window coverings in their bathrooms?” I mused.
“Maybe they’re all a bunch of exhibitionists,” Sam suggested, looking through the window to the backyard beyond. A large in-ground pool had been covered for the winter, which reminded me that we only had days left to play with Richard’s boat before it, too, would again be unavailable for months on end. That is, if we could play with it at all. I wondered what his insurance agent had said. Maybe I’d call him later to find out. Much later.
Dual sinks sunk in granite lined the east wall, with separate medicine cabinets overhead — both empty. The cabinets below held nothing but cleaning products, extra boxes of tissues, and a couple of rolls of toilet paper.
“Unless the kitchen has anything the guy actually touched, we’re done,” I told Sam.
“Do you think you might get something off of one of those cue sticks?”
“They’re likely the only things left in the house that he touched. How are you going to distract Mrs. Walburg?”
“With my charm and good looks,” Sam said wryly.
Charm he had. Good looks? They had disappeared with his thinning hair. “I’ll corner the old lady and then you make a beeline to that game room. You might only have a minute or two.”
“Got it.”
We left the upstairs behind and went back downstairs, where we found Mrs. Walburg in the kitchen, polishing the already shiny taps. I kept to the far end, feigning interest in the wet bar, while Sam cornered Mrs. Walburg. “I have a few more questions for you, if you don’t mind,” he said smoothly, while I snapped a few more pictures.
“I suppose,” she said, her attention still riveted on the task before her.
I snapped a couple more photos and wandered out of the room. Once out of earshot, I
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