Liver Let Die by Liz Lipperman Read Free Book Online

only met a few days ago as a restaurant customer show up at your apartment at midnight with your name and phone number in his shirt pocket?” Calhoun curled his lips in a smile meant to put Rosie in her place for the sarcastic look she’d given him.
    “Single women have been known to give their phone numbers to cute guys on occasion, Officer. Have you never asked a pretty girl for her number?” Rosie stared Calhoun down until he turned back to Jordan. The short, pudgy guy would never admit it if he hadn’t.
    “That’s true. But most single women don’t end up with a potential boyfriend under the steps of their apartment with a knife in his back.”
    At the mention of the gruesome murder, Jordan lowered her head, sniffing back the tears threatening to spill over. Who would do such a thing to a guy as sweet as J. T.? “He called earlier,” she volunteered, sure they would find out anyway. “Said he had something important to talk about and would stop by after his shift at the restaurant.”
    “He never hinted at what was so important he had to see you at midnight?” Calhoun’s smirk left no doubt he was not buying her explanation.
    “I never spoke to him. I found his message when I returned to my apartment after playing cards.”
    “Did you erase that message?”
    Shaking her head, Jordan pointed to her cell phone on the end table. Rutherford scooped it up, turned it on speaker and pressed Play. At the sound of J. T.’s voice, Jordan bit her lip to hold back the tears welling in her eyes, mad at herself for thinking the worst of him when he’d mentioned stopping by her apartment.
    “What time was that message recorded, Paul?” Calhoun asked his partner as he glanced down at his watch.
    “Nine fifty-five.”
    Calhoun turned back to Jordan. “And you never got suspicious when he didn’t show up?”
    “I fell asleep while I was waiting,” she admitted, thinking she would kill for a Ho Ho right now. The chocolate treats were like Prozac to her.
    Just then the door flew open and Ray rushed in with Lola on his heels, a leopard robe covering what Jordon knew was probably her birthday suit. It had slipped out one night during a card game that both Ray and Lola slept in the buff. All agreed that was way more information than they wanted.
    “What the hell’s going on here?” Ray turned to Calhoun, who now had his hand on his weapon. “Hey, Davey. How’s your old man?”
    Calhoun moved his hand away from his gun and stretched it toward Ray. “Good to see you, Mr. Varga. Dad’s doing great, enjoying retirement. Spends most of his free time fishing out at Texoma.”
    “One of your colleagues knocked on my door looking for you, Davey.” Ray looked away and made eye contact with Jordan. “You okay, honey?”
    She nodded as Ray moved closer. “You know anything about this?” he asked softly.
    “No.”
    Ray turned his attention back to the officers, singling out Calhoun with his eyes. “So, Davey, you about ready to wrap this up? This young lady looks exhausted.” His eyes darted around the tiny apartment while he spoke.
    “I think so.” Calhoun tried to get out of the chair and had to use both hands to lift his squatty body upright. “You will stay around and make yourself available should we have any further questions, right, Ms. McAllister?”
    Before Jordan could answer, Ray darted to the kitchen, backing up against the counter near the sink and leaning back. “Of course, she will. Have your dad call me the next time he goes fishing. It’d be good to catch up.”
    “Will do, Mr. Varga,” Calhoun said, motioning with a jerk of his head for Rutherford to head out.
    The moment the door closed, Ray blew out a breath. “Calhoun’s dad was the biggest screwup in the department, and it doesn’t look like the apple fell far from the tree.”
    He moved away from the counter and pointed to the knife rack he and Lola had gotten as a gift for sitting through a time-share presentation somewhere in