Fatal Feng Shui by Leslie Caine Read Free Book Online

this to him! He’s been using power tools and nail guns since he was ten years old. He’s never hurt himself. Not once. He was murdered, Erin. You’ve been through this before. You found your father’s killer.”
    “The police did,” I reminded her.
    “And they wouldn’t have if it weren’t for you. The police are never going to put full effort into finding Taylor’s killer. They’ll just assume it was drug-related. If they run into any dead ends, they’ll just quit.”
    “No, they won’t. They’ll treat Taylor like they would anyone else, and they’ll solve it.” I realized at once that I’d spoken with a confidence I didn’t feel.
    Emily picked up on my hesitancy. “Erin. Please. You know as well as I do what will happen. They’ll look at this and say, ‘Here’s a dead twenty-year-old handyman with a drug record who tripped over his own nail gun. Tragic accident.’ And that’ll be the end of it.”
    A pang of guilt melded with my sorrow. I’d missed Taylor’s twentieth birthday. Now he was dead. There was no way to make up for that now.
    An idea struck me. “Remember how Taylor had that hiding place in your old house, between the studs?”
    “Sure. He was always one for building hiding places. Especially when he was using drugs.”
    “Did he have a hiding place in this house?”
    “Yes, unfortunately.”
    “Has he hidden anything there since he got out of prison?”
    “No. It was emptied out when he went to jail, and he hasn’t been living here since he got out. He rented a room east of downtown Crestview. We agreed that’d be best…if he was living on his own. But he had an old paint can in the garage where he hid things before he…went away. And he did visit me once. Earlier this week…Monday or Tuesday. I can’t remember right now.”
    “You should tell the police about his hiding place when they get here.”
    “Which I’m sure will be soon…and that they’ll accuse him of dealing drugs again, or something.” She rose. “Let’s go look now and make sure his hiding spot is still empty.”
    She led me to her garage. She looked, frankly, like walking death, and I asked if she wanted to be doing this now. She nodded grimly. “To the police, he was just a punk with a record, Erin, but he was my baby. You need to make sure the police get to the bottom of this. Promise me, Erin.”
    “I will. I’ll do my best.”
    “Thank you,” she said in a broken whisper. An array of cans lined the shelves along the back wall. She reached for a paint can.
    “Wait! Fingerprints could be significant.”
    “Mine and his will already be on it.” Despite her words, she used a plastic trash bag as a mitt to handle the paint can. She pried off the lid with a screwdriver. “He keeps some sand in the bottom of the can so it doesn’t feel empty.” A look of enormous pain passed across her features; she must have suffered from the realization that she should have used the past tense just now. She muffled a sob.
    She stared in surprise. “My God. It’s not empty.”
    “You never let on to him that you’d found his hiding place?” I asked.
    She shook her head. “It was the best way I could keep tabs on him.”
    Using the bag to avoid ruining the evidence, she removed an envelope. It had been curled to fit inside the can. Her hands were trembling. She shook the contents of the envelope onto the concrete garage floor.
    Four photographs landed faceup. Each showed a couple in the throes of passion in a silver sedan. I recognized the car immediately. A moment later, I realized that I recognized the couple, as well.
    “What had he gotten himself into?” Emily murmured. “Pornography?”
    “More likely he was collecting evidence.”
    “Evidence? For blackmail?”
    I hesitated, not wanting to answer, for there was no other easy explanation. “Maybe.”
    “Do you recognize these people? It’s got to be related to Taylor’s murder, don’t you think? That he was maybe keeping these pictures