Page 5 of Deadly Pride
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Liam slid into a vinyl booth across from Harper. He'd rather liked her hair loose. Made her appear softer. No matter. They had a murder to solve and no time for anything else.
“What?” She narrowed her eyes.
“What kind of pie do you like?” He waved the waitress over rather than tell her where his mind had been.
“Possum.” She laughed, the sound like music to his ears, as he shuddered and realized this is the first time her stern exterior had cracked. “Not the animal. It's a chocolate pie and absolutely delicious. Try it. I dare you.”
“Alright. Two possum pies and two coffees.” He arched a brow. “I rarely turn down a dare.” The vinyl squeaked under his weight as he leaned against the back. “Do you think the club server will show?”
“Why wouldn't she?” Harper poured cream and sugar into the coffee set in front of her. “She'll make an easy hundred bucks.”
“Something might scare her off.”
She shrugged. “Maybe.” Her features hardened at something she saw over his shoulder.
He turned and stared at a television screen depicting the front of a large, modern house. “Who's home?”
“Richardson's sister.” She typed into her phone. “You'll have to try the possum pie later. We've got another dead body.” She took a sip of coffee, slapped some money on the table, and rushed for the door.
He shouted an apology to the confused waitress and rushed after Harper. They had two hours until they were expected back at the club. He doubted they'd be there.
The waitress raced toward them, two Styrofoam boxes in her hand. “Here. Your pie.” She thrust them into Liam's hand. He set them on the floor at his feet. “Thank you.”
Harper sped from the diner parking lot as he clicked his seat belt into place. “Slow down. The victim won't return to life if we get there at the speed of light,” he said.
“Sorry.” She didn't slow down and took the next corner too fast.
He grabbed the handle above his head. It wasn't that he didn't trust her not to get them killed, but rather he didn't trust anyone's driving but his own. He'd gone along with her so far, but no more. “I'm driving from now on.”
She cut him a quick glance. “In what? That rented sedan?”
“Yes.” He released the breath he'd been holding as she slowed and pulled into a curving drive leading to the house they'd seen on TV.
“There are booties and gloves in the glove compartment.” Harper shoved her door open. “Get some for both of us.”
“Yes, boss.” He frowned. He had the authority, yet he felt like a rookie the way she barked commands. “I'm not one of your officers, Detective. We're working as partners on this case.”
Her brow lowered. “Your point?”
“Stop playing boss.” He handed her the gloves and booties.
She blinked, clearly taken back. “I'm sorry. I'm used to working alone.”
“No worries. We're squared away now.” He led the way up ten cement steps to a massive porch. He slipped on the booties, snapped the gloves over his hands, and motioned for Harper to move through the open front door ahead of him.
A woman wearing stark black, sitting in a wing-back chair in the corner of the foyer, wept into a tissue. She glanced up as Harper and Liam entered. “Finally, people with some authority. I'm Mrs. Blackwell. Miss Richardson's assistant.”
“I'm sorry for your loss, ma'am. We'll be back to speak with you in a few minutes.” Liam gave her a nod and headed up a sweeping staircase to where a uniformed officer waited.
“I'm Officer Crypton, first on the scene. The body has been placed exactly as Mr. Richardson's.” She stepped aside so they could enter the bedroom.
A king-sized four-poster bed barely took up space in the large master bedroom. The lovely Miss Richardson knelt in her blood. A silk nightgown lay on the floor next to her as if she'd been in the process of getting ready for bed when someone killed her.
Liam squatted next to her. “She hasn't been dead long. Who called the authorities?”
“An anonymous caller. Electronic voice,” Crypton said. “The front door was open when I got here. I scared the bejesus out of the housekeeper when I called out that I was police. Woke her up.”