Twisted: A Tracy Turner Murder Mystery Novel (The Tracy Turner Mystery Series Book 1) by Keyla Hunter Read Free Book Online Page B

me, there was plenty of that in any case. So much that I couldn’t help but wonder if any real work got done.
    I looked over my notes which were fragments of information that I needed to piece together. I pulled out the photographs. The smell of cedar tickled my nostrils. I was overcome by a rush of excitement as my mind drifted to the conversation I had with Brett earlier that morning. I let myself indulge in the memory for a moment and pushed the thoughts out of my mind. I had work to do.
    I reached into my bag and pulled my glasses out of their case and sat them on the comfortable spot on the tip of my nose. The first few photos I picked up were ones of Frank sprawled on the bed. A wave of nausea rose up into my throat. I always found it hard to look at blood, even my own. The details Catalina provided about the gunshot wounds were accurate. What she had left out was the fact that Frank’s face was covered with a hand towel. I noted that this was an indication of remorse, which meant that the killer was not a stranger.
    I fanned out the photos over the circular table, spread them out, and picked out a broad shot of the entire room. In the past Frank booked an executive suite, which was double the price of a regular room. Perhaps, Joseph was right; Frank was down on his luck. Nevertheless, the room was still opulent and as was expected of a five-diamond resort. What was strange was there were papers, books, and files strewn across the room. Was it Frank or was it the intruder who took his life that had made the mess?
    It seemed that someone was looking for something in particular because it was only the books and files that had been disarranged. A thief searching for jewelry and valuables wouldn’t rifle through books.
    There was also a set of golf clubs leaning against one end of the bed, so Frank had been out that morning playing a round or perhaps practicing for the upcoming tournament.
    The next shot that caught my eye was Katherine Walters’ earring. It was beautiful and just as Catalina described it. I recalled seeing the earring somewhere. Yes, I remembered it was in one of Ryan’s magazines. It was a Tiffany’s piece. A dreamy turquoise with touches of silver. The color was one of my favorites, and the exquisite design had stuck in my mind.
    What more I could learn about Katherine? How had her earring gotten into Frank’s room? During the argument on the courtroom steps she had threatened to kill him. That was only a couple of weeks ago. It was hard to imagine that she was invited into his room. What if she had slipped into the room and done it… but why?
    I tapped in the password on my iPad and went straight to the Google app. In the search bar I entered the phrase: Frank and Katherine Walters divorce. 167,849 results turned up. That was not surprising given their celebrity status.
    I clicked on the first news article. It was a detailed account of the couple’s messy split. The grounds for divorce was noted as adultery. Katherine was quoted as saying, “Frank was unfaithful from the moment that we were married.” The article listed a string of alleged infidelities. It recounted the story of how Frank had French kissed the maid of honor at their niece’s wedding. Apparently, this had been the final straw.
    The article went on to say that they had a pre-nup in their marriage contract which stated that the cheating party would get nothing in the event of the marriage ending on the grounds of adultery. This meant that had the divorce gone through, Frank wouldn’t be entitled to a dollar of Katherine’s ten billion dollar confectionary empire, which she had inherited from her father, or her private American folk art collection of an undisclosed value.
    The next photo was of Frank’s briefcase lying open on the ground, its contents spilled out on the bedside rug. It showed papers, a checkbook, and a photograph. A close-up of this photograph featured a couple sitting across from each other in an open terrace