Read Online Fortune Cookie (Culinary Mystery) by Josi S. Kilpack - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Josi S. Kilpack
Ads: Link
backup.
When they reached the outside door of the apartment building, located between two storefronts, Pete put down his boxes in order to unlock the door with the keys Lin Yang had given them. He then held the door for Sadie. They walked down an empty hallway to a foyer that was rectangular, small, and empty. On the wall to the left was a door marked exit and a panel of six mailboxes. On the wall to the right were two doors she assumed led to the street-level shops. Further down the hallway were the doors for apartments 1 and 2.
There was little character or color in this space, but the elevator straight ahead of them was fabulous. It was one of the gated kinds that made Sadie think of Audrey Hepburn and New York City. A spiral staircase wrapped around the elevator shaft, and Sadie followed it with her eyes until it disappeared somewhere above them. Pete pulled back the diamond-patterned grate of the elevator so they could enter, then closed it and secured it with a latch. Sadie pushed the button for level three. It was an old-fashioned knob-style button and depressed an entire half an inch when she pushed it, which made Sadie smile.
“This is awesome,” Pete said in a reverent tone as the cables jerked and the pulley began its job of hoisting them up the shaft. “I feel like Cary Grant in Charade —though I’m glad this elevator is a little bigger than that one, but seriously, it even has the same kind of staircase.”
“Or the one in the Hotel Priscilla for Single Women,” Sadie said. “Though I’m glad it works without us having to tap dance.”
“Oh yeah,” Pete said, looking up as the elevator continued to the third floor. “Is that the hotel from the movie where Carol Channing does that jazz number?” The second-floor foyer passed before them, looking very much like the first-floor foyer but without the mailboxes. The doors to apartments 3 and 4 stood sentry, side by side.
“Yes,” Sadie said, impressed that he remembered the scene from Thoroughly Modern Millie. Musicals were one topic on which they didn’t much agree, and though he hadn’t said out loud that he didn’t like musicals, Sadie suspected it was to protect her feelings.
“I didn’t like that film,” Pete said with a shake of his head. “The story line was unrealistic.”
Sadie made a huffing sound as the elevator came to a grinding stop when it was flush with the third floor. Pete went about opening the door and then closing it again after they’d both stepped out. They scanned the sparse foyer—there wasn’t anything to it other than hardwood floors in need of refinishing and two doors set into the wall across from them, fifteen feet apart. Sadie stared at the number 5 attached to the center of the door on the left. That was Wendy’s apartment. It’s where she’d lived . . . and where she’d died.
The thought of such an atrocious thing happening on the other side of that door made Sadie’s stomach clench. Had Wendy died of natural causes? How would burning the body later factor into that possibility? What were they going to see—and smell—once they went inside? Sadie shivered at the thought of it.
Pete put down the boxes and used the smaller key to unlock the apartment door. He gave Sadie a quick glance before pushing open the door. Sadie braced herself for the smell, but while there was a trace of smoke, and maybe something more than that, it was bleach and paint and . . . vinegar that made the strongest impression.
“It doesn’t stink?” she asked as she tentatively stepped into the darkened apartment. The shades were closed and the lights off, giving it an eerie grayness in the middle of the day.
“I wondered if it would,” Pete said, coming in behind her. “Seeing as how she was in a bathtub—a nonporous surface—and Lopez had mentioned that the bathroom appeared to be well-contained and with good ventilation. CSI must have put out the vinegar—it’s the best thing for decomposition—and
When they reached the outside door of the apartment building, located between two storefronts, Pete put down his boxes in order to unlock the door with the keys Lin Yang had given them. He then held the door for Sadie. They walked down an empty hallway to a foyer that was rectangular, small, and empty. On the wall to the left was a door marked exit and a panel of six mailboxes. On the wall to the right were two doors she assumed led to the street-level shops. Further down the hallway were the doors for apartments 1 and 2.
There was little character or color in this space, but the elevator straight ahead of them was fabulous. It was one of the gated kinds that made Sadie think of Audrey Hepburn and New York City. A spiral staircase wrapped around the elevator shaft, and Sadie followed it with her eyes until it disappeared somewhere above them. Pete pulled back the diamond-patterned grate of the elevator so they could enter, then closed it and secured it with a latch. Sadie pushed the button for level three. It was an old-fashioned knob-style button and depressed an entire half an inch when she pushed it, which made Sadie smile.
“This is awesome,” Pete said in a reverent tone as the cables jerked and the pulley began its job of hoisting them up the shaft. “I feel like Cary Grant in Charade —though I’m glad this elevator is a little bigger than that one, but seriously, it even has the same kind of staircase.”
“Or the one in the Hotel Priscilla for Single Women,” Sadie said. “Though I’m glad it works without us having to tap dance.”
“Oh yeah,” Pete said, looking up as the elevator continued to the third floor. “Is that the hotel from the movie where Carol Channing does that jazz number?” The second-floor foyer passed before them, looking very much like the first-floor foyer but without the mailboxes. The doors to apartments 3 and 4 stood sentry, side by side.
“Yes,” Sadie said, impressed that he remembered the scene from Thoroughly Modern Millie. Musicals were one topic on which they didn’t much agree, and though he hadn’t said out loud that he didn’t like musicals, Sadie suspected it was to protect her feelings.
“I didn’t like that film,” Pete said with a shake of his head. “The story line was unrealistic.”
Sadie made a huffing sound as the elevator came to a grinding stop when it was flush with the third floor. Pete went about opening the door and then closing it again after they’d both stepped out. They scanned the sparse foyer—there wasn’t anything to it other than hardwood floors in need of refinishing and two doors set into the wall across from them, fifteen feet apart. Sadie stared at the number 5 attached to the center of the door on the left. That was Wendy’s apartment. It’s where she’d lived . . . and where she’d died.
The thought of such an atrocious thing happening on the other side of that door made Sadie’s stomach clench. Had Wendy died of natural causes? How would burning the body later factor into that possibility? What were they going to see—and smell—once they went inside? Sadie shivered at the thought of it.
Pete put down the boxes and used the smaller key to unlock the apartment door. He gave Sadie a quick glance before pushing open the door. Sadie braced herself for the smell, but while there was a trace of smoke, and maybe something more than that, it was bleach and paint and . . . vinegar that made the strongest impression.
“It doesn’t stink?” she asked as she tentatively stepped into the darkened apartment. The shades were closed and the lights off, giving it an eerie grayness in the middle of the day.
“I wondered if it would,” Pete said, coming in behind her. “Seeing as how she was in a bathtub—a nonporous surface—and Lopez had mentioned that the bathroom appeared to be well-contained and with good ventilation. CSI must have put out the vinegar—it’s the best thing for decomposition—and
Similar Books
