A.R. Winters - Valerie Inkerman 01 - Don't Be a Stranger by A.R. Winters Read Free Book Online Page B

opening.”
    “So whoever killed Esme walked into the room with her, and then walked out.”
    “Yeah,”
    “So it was someone she knew.”
    Jerry shrugged. “I suppose so. You guys didn’t see anyone suspicious downstairs?”
    “No. We didn’t really hear anything, either.”
    “Well, there was music, and a whole bunch of people talking.”
    “No.” I shook my head. “Whoever killed Esme must’ve used a silencer. There would’ve been a lot of noise from the gun otherwise.”
    Jerry put a big wok on the stove, and started heating it up.
    “That means,” I said slowly, “whoever killed Esme planned it out. They were going to kill her at the party. They had an alibi – and they did the whole thing so fast that nobody saw them disappear.”
    It was a worrying thought. If it had been an act of passion or a sudden thing, maybe I could’ve outsmarted the killer. But this killer had obviously put a lot of thought into the crime.
    It was my first murder investigation, and I was up against a pro.
     

Chapter Twelve
     
    As Jerry stir-fried the vegetables, I wrote down the extra details he’d told me, and asked him about Anita.
    “She’s just this woman,” he said. “We’d only really said hello, and then she offered to give me a tour of the place.”
    “Do you know anything about her, apart from her name? And the fact that she’s married to some rich guy with a pre-nup?”
    Jerry shook his head. “Not really.”
    I dragged my laptop into the kitchen and fired it up. A quick Google search revealed that there was, indeed, an Anita Lowe, and I showed her photo to Jerry. “Is this her?”
    “He-ey!” he said, grinning broadly. “That’s her!”
    I turned the screen back to me, and tried to dig up online dirt on her. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much dirt. She was married to a Larry Lowe – I could find quite a few business-y type articles about the company he owned, but not him personally – and she went to fancy parties once in a while. She didn’t seem to have much presence online, and it was clear that she appreciated the benefits of privacy and secrecy.
    Jerry was probably right. This woman would be no help in the investigation. Still, I wrote up two index cards about her – just in case I wound up talking to her. As Jerry served the finished vegetables, I tried to find information about Esme online – but once again, there wasn’t much.
    “Did you want any rice with that?” Jerry asked, as he handed me a plate with a grilled honey-soy drumstick and a generous helping of vegetables.
    I shook my head, no, and we dug in.  Between mouthfuls, I said, “Tell me about Esme.”
    “There’s not much to tell, really.” I watched as Jerry stuffed his face full of chicken, chewed hurriedly, and swallowed far too soon. “I met her a couple of months ago, and then we ran into each other again. We hung out sometimes, since we know some people in common.”
    “Where’d she live? What did she do? Did she have any enemies?”
    “No, nothing like that. She was – I think she told me she was a lawyer? Or maybe an accountant? I forget, something boring like that. But smart – she worked hard. And… I don’t really know where she lived.”
    “What about friends and enemies?”
    Jerry shook his head. “We had some friends in common, and she was really well-liked. She was so nice, I can’t imagine her having enemies.”
    “And family? Did she grow up in Manhattan, like you?”
    “Yeah, she did, actually. I remember her saying something about a dad who lived on Park Avenue.”
    I nodded slowly. I should probably start with him. “Any idea what his first name was? Or what he did?”
    Jerry shook his head. “No, but how many Park Avenue Mr. Lindls could there be?”
    I thought back to an article I’d read on one of those gossip sites about Esme’s death. It didn’t have any information about her, or how she’d died, but it had mentioned that she’d been killed at a fancy Hamptons party, and that