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

in the minority. There was more ink showing in there than on all three of the bookcases I had in my living room. I did technically fit in, but my little tattoo was small and in a spot usually covered by clothes. Besides, the people in this bar would laugh their butts off if I tried boasting about mine. There was nothing scary about a butterfly and a book with the words ‘Let your dreams take flight.’
    To celebrate my eighteenth birthday, my best friend, Melissa, got her hands on an assortment of alcohol. Of course we had felt it necessary not to let any of it go to waste. She and her mom lived over a tattoo parlor. Her mom was working the night shift at the hospital. To get our first tattoos we only had to stumble down a flight of stairs and hand over some cash. That weekend had started out great but went straight into the toilet, which was where I spent Saturday, Sunday, and most of Monday. It was the hangover to end all hangovers. My parents thought it was the flu, or at least pretended it was. I swore to God if I survived, I’d never get that drunk again. Ten years later and I’d kept that promise. Sort of, well, I’d tried to anyway.
    Man, just being in this place had me reaching for a pack of Capri Menthol cigarettes. I quit six months ago thanks to my mother’s nagging, I mean, heartfelt concern for my well-being. I especially wanted one while driving, after eating, and after sex. Not that I’d had a whole lot of that last one lately. It had been so long even some of these guys were kind of looking good.
    Fortunately, before my libido could take over, I spotted a red-haired waitress in a too tight t-shirt, a black skirt that barely covered her butt, and two-inch spike-heeled shoes. The small nametag identified her as Angie. I watched as she effortlessly moved from table to table, taking orders, delivering drinks, and ignoring the occasional ass grab. These guys didn’t realize how lucky they were. If I’d been their waitress, they’d have ended up with a pitcher of beer dumped in their laps.
    Two hours and lite beers later, Angie walked out the front door. A minute later I stepped outside and found her a few feet from the door smoking a cigarette and fending off the rather crude advances of yet another admirer. I really didn’t think her meager hourly tips and wages were worth that kind of harassment, but what did I know. One thing was for sure, the waitresses at this place had better be escorted to their cars each night. The jerk finally got the message and went back inside the bar. I could smell the alcohol from several feet away. This guy was a DUI waiting to happen.
    “God, what a jerk,” I said with what I hoped was a sympathetic smile.
    Angie smirked. “He’s not as bad as most of these guys.”
    “Swell, that’s good news.”
    “Are you applying for the waitress job?”
    “Ugh, I was thinking about it,” I lied.
    “Don’t let that scare you off. It’s not a bad place to work and the tips are okay.”
    “How long have you worked here?”
    “Almost five years.”
    “Wow, that’s a long time to work in those shoes every night.”
    Angie glanced down at her shoes and back up at me before answering. “At first my feet hurt like hell, but then I got used to it.”
    The breeze sent the smoke from her cigarette into my face. I sucked it in like a drunk downing their first drink of the day. Angie noticed and offered me a cigarette.
    “Thanks, no, I’m trying to quit,” I said, a frown on my face.
    “I hope you have better luck than I’ve had.”
    “Thanks.” This totally sucked. She seemed so nice. The few drug dealers I’d had the misfortune to be around were total bastards. It was time to get this over with and go home. “Angie, I have a confession to make, I’m not here about the job.”
    “Oh, look, you’re great and all, but I don’t date women.”
    Oh my God, she actually thought I was hitting on her. How the hell did I get myself into these things?
    “No, I’m a private