Read Online The Lady Who Sang High: A Reed Ferguson Mystery (A Private Investigator Mystery Series - Crime Suspense Thriller Book 7) by Renee Pawlish - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Renee Pawlish
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chair.
A monitor sat on the desk, but no computer. It made sense since his laptop was in his office at Blue Light. I picked up a framed picture of younger versions of Jude and Jodie along with a couple who I assumed was their parents. They all wore wide smiles. Happier times.
“Our parents,” Jodie explained, choking back a sob.
I nodded and set it back down. Nothing else was on the desk, so I tried the drawers. One had assorted office supplies and a stack of new DVDs. Another was a file drawer. I ran a hand over the top, looking at the labels. Bank statements, mortgage information, bills, investment statements. I pulled out that file.
She cleared her throat and regained her composure. “What’s that?”
“Old 401k statements,” I said as I rifled through them. “Nothing new.”
“I think he drained all of his accounts when we started Blue Light.”
I silently concurred, not telling her that Cal had confirmed that. I glanced through all the files, and at the back, I found an unlabeled one. I pulled it out. Jodie peered over my shoulder as I opened it. Some pamphlets with marijuana information, a spreadsheet with dollar amounts and dates, and a paper with a list with Spanish words on it.
I pointed at the spreadsheet. “Does this mean anything to you?”
She took the spreadsheet and studied it, shook her head. “Maybe it’s projections of what we’ll make.”
“But those dates are in the past.”
She shrugged, then read the other page. “This is a list of the drug cartels.”
“Was he doing a study on them?”
“It’s possible. There’s always worry about how much they can undercut our business. They have their hands in everything.” She glanced at her phone. “Do you want to check out the rest of the house? If so, we’d better get going because I need to get back to work.”
“Can I take the file with me?”
“I guess.”
“It’ll be safe with me,” I said in response to her mistrustful tone.
“Come on.” She waved a hand and I followed her into the foyer and upstairs. On the right was a large master bedroom with a king-sized bed and dark furniture, walk-in closets and a full master bath. As I expected from Jude, nothing was out of place, no trash or papers lying about. The bed was neatly made and the walls were bare. I quickly went through the nightstand drawers, glanced in the closet and then went into the bathroom. I glanced around and checked the cabinet behind the mirror. Nothing unusual, just toiletries.
Jodie gnawed at her lip. “Is this really necessary?”
“Yes,” I said.
I opened the walk-in closet and ran my hand over his hanging clothes. A black carry-on bag was lying on the floor, neatly packed with some shirts, shorts, a pair of slacks, and toiletries. “Was he planning a trip?”
“He sometimes would head up to the mountains for the weekend. I wish you wouldn’t do this.”
I stepped past her and headed into the hallway. “What if there’s some clue around here that will point to his killer?”
Irritation at my snooping had replaced her grief. She crossed her arms. “Have you found any?”
“Clues don’t always jump out at you,” I said. “Although it would be nice if they did,” I added under my breath.
We walked down the hall and I quickly searched two other bedrooms. One had a bed and nightstand in it, the other a weight set and stationary bike. No clues in either of them…at least any that I saw.
She was getting impatient, so I hurried through the rest of the house. A family room by the kitchen was sparse, with another leather couch and a flat-screen TV hung on the wall opposite. I found myself envious of the basement man cave, complete with pool and poker tables, bar, two flat-screen TVs on opposite walls, and a temperature-controlled walk-in cigar humidor. It seemed to be the only room with any personality to it at all.
I hunted around, mostly just admiring the room, and then we went back upstairs to the kitchen.
“This is
A monitor sat on the desk, but no computer. It made sense since his laptop was in his office at Blue Light. I picked up a framed picture of younger versions of Jude and Jodie along with a couple who I assumed was their parents. They all wore wide smiles. Happier times.
“Our parents,” Jodie explained, choking back a sob.
I nodded and set it back down. Nothing else was on the desk, so I tried the drawers. One had assorted office supplies and a stack of new DVDs. Another was a file drawer. I ran a hand over the top, looking at the labels. Bank statements, mortgage information, bills, investment statements. I pulled out that file.
She cleared her throat and regained her composure. “What’s that?”
“Old 401k statements,” I said as I rifled through them. “Nothing new.”
“I think he drained all of his accounts when we started Blue Light.”
I silently concurred, not telling her that Cal had confirmed that. I glanced through all the files, and at the back, I found an unlabeled one. I pulled it out. Jodie peered over my shoulder as I opened it. Some pamphlets with marijuana information, a spreadsheet with dollar amounts and dates, and a paper with a list with Spanish words on it.
I pointed at the spreadsheet. “Does this mean anything to you?”
She took the spreadsheet and studied it, shook her head. “Maybe it’s projections of what we’ll make.”
“But those dates are in the past.”
She shrugged, then read the other page. “This is a list of the drug cartels.”
“Was he doing a study on them?”
“It’s possible. There’s always worry about how much they can undercut our business. They have their hands in everything.” She glanced at her phone. “Do you want to check out the rest of the house? If so, we’d better get going because I need to get back to work.”
“Can I take the file with me?”
“I guess.”
“It’ll be safe with me,” I said in response to her mistrustful tone.
“Come on.” She waved a hand and I followed her into the foyer and upstairs. On the right was a large master bedroom with a king-sized bed and dark furniture, walk-in closets and a full master bath. As I expected from Jude, nothing was out of place, no trash or papers lying about. The bed was neatly made and the walls were bare. I quickly went through the nightstand drawers, glanced in the closet and then went into the bathroom. I glanced around and checked the cabinet behind the mirror. Nothing unusual, just toiletries.
Jodie gnawed at her lip. “Is this really necessary?”
“Yes,” I said.
I opened the walk-in closet and ran my hand over his hanging clothes. A black carry-on bag was lying on the floor, neatly packed with some shirts, shorts, a pair of slacks, and toiletries. “Was he planning a trip?”
“He sometimes would head up to the mountains for the weekend. I wish you wouldn’t do this.”
I stepped past her and headed into the hallway. “What if there’s some clue around here that will point to his killer?”
Irritation at my snooping had replaced her grief. She crossed her arms. “Have you found any?”
“Clues don’t always jump out at you,” I said. “Although it would be nice if they did,” I added under my breath.
We walked down the hall and I quickly searched two other bedrooms. One had a bed and nightstand in it, the other a weight set and stationary bike. No clues in either of them…at least any that I saw.
She was getting impatient, so I hurried through the rest of the house. A family room by the kitchen was sparse, with another leather couch and a flat-screen TV hung on the wall opposite. I found myself envious of the basement man cave, complete with pool and poker tables, bar, two flat-screen TVs on opposite walls, and a temperature-controlled walk-in cigar humidor. It seemed to be the only room with any personality to it at all.
I hunted around, mostly just admiring the room, and then we went back upstairs to the kitchen.
“This is
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