Read Online Indulgence in Death by J. D. Robb - Free Book Online

Houston and his partner, Michael Chin, had started the business fourteen years before with a single secondhand limo, and had run it primarily out of Houston’s home, with his wife serving as dispatcher, office dogsbody, and bookkeeper.
    In less than fifteen years, they’d expanded to a fleet of twelve—all gold, high-end luxury limos with premier amenities, and had earned a five-diamond rating every year for nearly a decade.
    They employed eight drivers, and an office and administrative staff of six. Mamie Houston continued to keep the books, and Chin’s wife of five years served as head mechanic. Houston’s son and daughter were listed as part-time employees.
    When Eve pulled up in front of the streamlined building with its mammoth garage, a man of about forty in a business suit was watering a long window box full of red and white flowers. He paused, turned his pleasant face toward them with an easy smile.
    “Good morning.”
    “We’re looking for Michael Chin.”
    “You’ve found me. Please come in, out of the heat. Barely nine in the morning and already sweltering.”
    Cool air and the scent of flowers greeted them. A counter held the flowers and a compact data-and-communications unit. On a table glossy brochures fanned out. A couple of cozy scoop chairs ranged beside it while a gold sofa and a couple more chairs formed a conference area.
    “Can I get you something cold to drink?”
    “No, thanks. Mr. Chin, I’m Lieutenant Dallas, and this is Detective Peabody. We’re with the NYPSD.”
    “Oh.” His smile remained pleasant, but edged toward puzzled. “Is there a problem?”
    “I regret to inform you your partner, Jamal Houston, was found dead this morning.”
    He face went blank, like a switch turned off. “I’m sorry, what?”
    “He was found in one of the vehicles registered to this company.”
    “An accident.” He took a step back, bumped into one of the chairs. “An accident? Jamal had an accident?”
    “No, Mr. Chin. We believe Mr. Houston was murdered at approximately ten-twenty-five last night.”
    “But no, no. Oh, I see. I see, there’s been a mistake. I spoke with Jamal myself shortly before that time. Minutes before that time. He was at the airport, at LaGuardia, driving a client, and picking up the client’s wife.”
    “There’s no mistake. We’ve identified Mr. Houston. He was found in the limo, parked at LaGuardia, early this morning.”
    “Wait.” This time Chin gripped the back of the chair, swayed a little. “You’re telling me Jamal is dead? Murdered? But how, how? Why?”
    “Mr. Chin, why don’t you sit down?” Peabody eased him into the chair. “Can I get you some water?”
    He shook his head, kept shaking it as his eyes, a brilliant green behind a forest of black lashes, filled. “Someone killed Jamal. My God, my sweet God. They tried to steal the car? Was that it? We’re supposed to cooperate in a jacking. It’s firm company policy. No car is worth a life. Jamal.”
    “I know this is a shock,” Eve began, “and it’s very difficult, but we need to ask you some questions.”
    “We’re having dinner tonight. We’re all having dinner tonight. A cookout.”
    “You were here last night. You were running dispatch?”
    “Yes. No. Oh, God.” He pressed the heels of his hands to those wet, brilliant eyes. “I was home, running dispatch from home. He had this late run, you see. He took it because Kimmy had two night runs in a row, and West was on an early one this morning, and it was Peter’s son’s birthday, and . . . it doesn’t matter. We flipped a coin, winner chooses dispatch or the run. He took the run.”
    “When was it booked?”
    “Just that afternoon.”
    “Who was the client?”
    “I . . . I’ll look it up. I don’t remember. I can’t think.” He dropped his head into his hands, then jerked it up again. “Mamie, the children. Oh, God, oh, God. I have to go. I have to get my wife. We have to go to Mamie.”
    “Soon. The most important