Read Online Dying to Kill (Angel Delaney Mysteries Book #2) by Patricia H. Rushford - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Patricia H. Rushford
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How would you like it if I stayed here tonight?”
Mutt peered up at her, his tail whipping back and forth.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Mutt jumped off her lap and went to stand at the patio door. Good thing he was trained. She’d forgotten about taking him outside. Shetook his leash off a peg by the door and slipped it onto his collar. Mutt charged ahead, leading the way over the dunes.
While Mutt did his job, Angel stood with her head tipped back, watching the stars overhead. The half-moon shone like a beacon, lighting up the waves with silver highlights.
The night was crisp and cool. She watched the whitecaps roll in, thinking of the times she and Callen had walked along this stretch of beach, and how much she wanted him beside her right now.
Once inside, Angel removed her jacket and hung it in the closet, then scoured the refrigerator for something to feed her own growling stomach. Callen, being the efficient chef that he was, had cleaned out everything perishable. The cupboards yielded a wide array of snacks, from roasted soybeans to rock-hard peas with a hot wasabi coating. Angel settled on a bag of microwave popcorn.
While it popped she borrowed a T-shirt from Callen’s dresser that would double as pajamas. Tomorrow she’d pack a bag. Maybe she’d stay until Callen came back. Mutt would love that.
The microwave beeped, and Angel padded barefoot to the kitchen to retrieve her snack. Once she’d poured herself a ginger ale, she settled into Callen’s recliner and used the remote to turn on the television set. The action brought back the image of Phillip Jenkins settling in with his popcorn and beer.
Had he known his killer? She suspected he must have, since there had been no sign of a struggle. Still, how could they know that for sure, since Candace had cleaned up the place? Had Jenkins invited someone over? Had he known what was coming? She thought again about the footprints that might have been tracked into the house. The prints Candace had mopped up.
Angel surmised that from where Phillip Jenkins had been sitting, he would have seen anyone coming into the room either from the kitchen or from the front door. Of course, all that was speculation. She’d have to take a closer look at the house to know for certain.
Still, she couldn’t help but wonder. Had Candace removed a gun from his collection at an earlier time, hidden it upstairs, and waited for the right moment? Had she crept into the room while Phillip was absorbed in the game, shot him, placed the gun in his left hand, cleaned up the mess, then gone to pick up the kids?
Angel still had a hard time seeing the small, soft-spoken woman as a killer, but she’d been wrong before.
She thought again about the remote control and the snacks being on the right side of the chair and the gun being in his left hand. If Candace had killed him and if he was right-handed, wouldn’t she have placed the gun in his right hand? Not necessarily, but it was worth noting. She’d forgotten to mention her observation to Nick and promised herself she’d do so the next day. Not that he’d appreciate her opinion.
And what about Gracie? Where did she fit into all of this?
Why are you even thinking about it? Nick was right; dating a detective doesn’t make you one.
Detective or not, Angel felt a part of it. She had to know one way or another and planned to talk to both Candace and Gracie in the morning. Allegedly, neither had been home when Jenkins was shot. Candace had been shopping, Gracie at school. She’d have to check out their alibis.
Angel finally drifted off sometime around midnight, with Mutt curled up beside her. His occasional shifting and moaning along with thoughts of Jenkins and his killer kept Angel on the verge of sleep most of the night.
Morning came far too soon with Mutt barking and insisting she let him out and feed him. Angel dressed hurriedly in the clothes she’d worn the day before. At the patio door, she attached the leash to
Mutt peered up at her, his tail whipping back and forth.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Mutt jumped off her lap and went to stand at the patio door. Good thing he was trained. She’d forgotten about taking him outside. Shetook his leash off a peg by the door and slipped it onto his collar. Mutt charged ahead, leading the way over the dunes.
While Mutt did his job, Angel stood with her head tipped back, watching the stars overhead. The half-moon shone like a beacon, lighting up the waves with silver highlights.
The night was crisp and cool. She watched the whitecaps roll in, thinking of the times she and Callen had walked along this stretch of beach, and how much she wanted him beside her right now.
Once inside, Angel removed her jacket and hung it in the closet, then scoured the refrigerator for something to feed her own growling stomach. Callen, being the efficient chef that he was, had cleaned out everything perishable. The cupboards yielded a wide array of snacks, from roasted soybeans to rock-hard peas with a hot wasabi coating. Angel settled on a bag of microwave popcorn.
While it popped she borrowed a T-shirt from Callen’s dresser that would double as pajamas. Tomorrow she’d pack a bag. Maybe she’d stay until Callen came back. Mutt would love that.
The microwave beeped, and Angel padded barefoot to the kitchen to retrieve her snack. Once she’d poured herself a ginger ale, she settled into Callen’s recliner and used the remote to turn on the television set. The action brought back the image of Phillip Jenkins settling in with his popcorn and beer.
Had he known his killer? She suspected he must have, since there had been no sign of a struggle. Still, how could they know that for sure, since Candace had cleaned up the place? Had Jenkins invited someone over? Had he known what was coming? She thought again about the footprints that might have been tracked into the house. The prints Candace had mopped up.
Angel surmised that from where Phillip Jenkins had been sitting, he would have seen anyone coming into the room either from the kitchen or from the front door. Of course, all that was speculation. She’d have to take a closer look at the house to know for certain.
Still, she couldn’t help but wonder. Had Candace removed a gun from his collection at an earlier time, hidden it upstairs, and waited for the right moment? Had she crept into the room while Phillip was absorbed in the game, shot him, placed the gun in his left hand, cleaned up the mess, then gone to pick up the kids?
Angel still had a hard time seeing the small, soft-spoken woman as a killer, but she’d been wrong before.
She thought again about the remote control and the snacks being on the right side of the chair and the gun being in his left hand. If Candace had killed him and if he was right-handed, wouldn’t she have placed the gun in his right hand? Not necessarily, but it was worth noting. She’d forgotten to mention her observation to Nick and promised herself she’d do so the next day. Not that he’d appreciate her opinion.
And what about Gracie? Where did she fit into all of this?
Why are you even thinking about it? Nick was right; dating a detective doesn’t make you one.
Detective or not, Angel felt a part of it. She had to know one way or another and planned to talk to both Candace and Gracie in the morning. Allegedly, neither had been home when Jenkins was shot. Candace had been shopping, Gracie at school. She’d have to check out their alibis.
Angel finally drifted off sometime around midnight, with Mutt curled up beside her. His occasional shifting and moaning along with thoughts of Jenkins and his killer kept Angel on the verge of sleep most of the night.
Morning came far too soon with Mutt barking and insisting she let him out and feed him. Angel dressed hurriedly in the clothes she’d worn the day before. At the patio door, she attached the leash to
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