Daddy's Little Killer

Chapter 27

Chapter 27 

 

Charlie Haverston showed up at Johnny's penthouse around four-thirty. He has the eyes of a cow. Large. Milk chocolate brown. Lashes out to here. If it were possible for eyes to have a lazy southern drawl, Charlie's would do it. Moo.

He's a sweet kid, in reality. Kid. He's probably ten years younger than me, fretting over thirty creeping up while his dreams of a detective squad waste away. 

His concern was more than touching. The impact of my ordeal was far more profound coming from a man who hadn't professed how much he wanted to get into my pants. Or lied to me. Or got bossy and territorial with my personal freedom. I could go on. 

Those drawling orbs followed me across the living room toward Orion's den. There was no faltering gait, no dizziness, and no pauses to catch my breath. The hearty lunch Orion ordered was delivered by the very bistro that Charlie and I would later grace with our interview of Caroline Blevins.

"You're sure you're up to this, Helen?"

"I'm fine. Do I look like I had the sense knocked out of me last night?"

"No, but-"

"I am fine, well rested, at least two pounds heavier from lunch. Stop worrying already. Maya called to check on me about an hour ago, and even our resident expert on death is convinced that whatever happened to me has passed."

"If you're sure."

"I'm positive. Talk to me Charlie. What's happened since our last coherent update?"

"Do you remember me telling you about the key Forsythe found at the crime scene?"

"Yes. You were sending Thieg to scour possible locks it might open."

"Right."

"Did he turn up anything positive?"

"No. It's not a bank key or one that opens a locker at the airport or bus station."

"Well, I can't say that I'm surprised. Until we know the identity of the person it belonged to, it's probably a moot point. Unless of course, it had opened a locker at the bus station and there was information that would've identified him for us."

"Well, that's the thing, Helen. We were sitting around at the crime lab last night brainstorming with Forsythe, and you're never gonna believe who showed up outta the blue."

"Who?"

"Flynn Myre."

"Is that a fact? Two nights this week he's strayed from home away from the wife. My, my. I'm probably making enemies I'm not even aware of in this city."

"Don't joke about that."

"Sorry. So what was Myre doing sniffing around? Wait, I think I just answered my own question. It's probably eating the three amigos that this case was taken out of their hands, so Myre draws the short toothpick and gets to spy on our investigation."

"Thing is, we had the photo of the key laying out in plain sight."

"Fantastic. I'll bet it's splashed on the front page of the morning edition."

"Myre thought it looked like a key to a home safe."

My interest piqued.

"And so Thieg started making some calls this morning. Turns out that the key looks like it opens a secure, but fairly cheap safe. It opens with two keys. So we went back to the house over lunch hour and tore through the place again."