Death By High Heels (The Kim Murphy PI Series Book 1) by Violet Ingram Read Free Book Online Page A

why?”
    “He’d lost his job, his girlfriend, and his apartment. That’d be enough to make anyone depressed.”
    I looked up from the notebook I’d brought with me to jot down notes in. “Wow. Do you know why he lost his job?”
    “The company claimed it was making cuts but Brian figured it was because money was missing from the petty cash. They must have figured it had to be the ex-con.”
    “Four of you did time together,” I said.
    “We were young, stupid, and on drugs. We all got clean, did our time, and moved on.”
    “What about his ex-girlfriend?”
    “Angie Davis.”
    “Why’d they break up?”
    “Angie was using drugs. Brian wanted her to quit and they argued. He flushed her drugs down the toilet and she freaked out.”
    “What kinds of drugs?”
    “She had some pot, Vicodin, and some crack.”
    “Wow, that’s seems like a lot for one person.”
    Kevin looked down and began to pick at imaginary lint on his shirt.
    “So, maybe she was using and selling?” I asked.
    “Maybe,” he said, looking back up at me.
    “Did you tell Detective Tompkins?”
    “No. I didn’t want to get her jammed up with the cops.”
    “I understand.”
    “Look, I’ve got to get to work.”
    “Yeah, thanks for your help.”
    “No prob.” He chuckled.
    “What?”
    “I didn’t think your questions were dumb, but David was right about one thing.”
    “What’s that?” I asked.
    “You’re definitely hot.” He winked.
    Only a few years separated us, but since men matured at a much slower rate, I had kind of made a rule against dating younger men. Plus this one was part of my investigation. It didn’t matter in the least that this yummy-looking guy thought I was hot. It sure felt good though.
    I gave him my card and asked him to call me if he thought of anything else. On the walk back to my car I couldn’t help but smile. My ego had gotten a much needed boost.
    It was still too early to try Angie at the bar, so I drove home and spent a few hours channel surfing. I didn’t bother changing clothes. Dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and gym shoes, I’d fit right in. I moved my Glock from its regular spot on my belt to inside my purse. There was no need for me to announce I was armed. Not that I’d be the only one. Ever since Ohio passed the concealed carry law, even soccer moms were heavily armed. Though the law allowed people to carry a concealed gun inside a bar, the person was not allowed to drink. So what were they doing in a bar if they weren’t there to drink? The law made little sense to me, but then the lawmakers didn’t ask for my opinion.
    The Spitting Parrot earned its name twenty years ago from the original owner. Otis Barnes kept his parrot, Spike, in the bar. Spike had the disgusting habit of spitting seeds at people as they entered the bar. Eventually a health inspector threatened to shut the place down if the parrot wasn’t ousted. Otis shut down the bar for several weeks. When he re-opened the bar, he renamed it The Spitting Parrot. Sometime during those weeks the inspector disappeared. Everybody figured Otis was involved but there was never any proof. Spike and Otis lived the rest of their lives in a double-wide trailer behind the bar. They died a few days apart. Rumor was that just before the funeral, Otis’s sons hid the bird in their dad’s coffin.
    To this day the place was still run by his two sons. Since they took over, the place was cleaner, but the clientele had gotten worse. If you were looking for a nice guy or girl to meet the parents, go someplace else. If, on the other hand, your type was the ex-con, then this was the place for you.
    By the time I arrived there were only a few empty seats. I grabbed the lone empty stool at the bar. The bartender’s arms, covered in tattoos, looked like an ad for one of the local gangs. When he made his way to me, I swapped a five dollar bill for a bottle of Coors Lite.
    I picked up the bottle and looked around the room. It soon became clear I was