High Risk by G.K. Parks (thriller book recommendations txt) 📗

this stage, especially with possible blood spatter dripping down his t-shirt. “Was anyone else here?”

“The guys online know I was here. We just made it to level 17. We were talking the entire time.”

“Over the headsets?” Fennel asked.

Golden nodded. “And I ordered some pizza around one. I don’t remember who delivered it. I just grabbed it.”

“Are those the boxes on the coffee table?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, we’ll need your friends’ names or handles in order to verify your whereabouts,” Fennel said. “Liv, why don’t you check with the pizza place?”

I gave Fennel an odd look. “Okay, boss.”

He squinted at me. I didn’t know what he was thinking, but I returned to the living room and left him alone with Richard Golden. I just hung up with the pizza joint, which verified a delivery had been made to the apartment and was paid for with Golden’s credit card and his signature was on the receipt, when Fennel stepped out of the bedroom.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“I told him to get dressed since we have more questions. He’s in a state of shock, but I didn’t want to leave him alone until I knew for certain he couldn’t escape out the window or pull a gun.”

“Does he have any weapons?”

“Just the tennis racket.”

“What about the stains on his shirt?”

“Ketchup. He works at the Corndog Hut.” Fennel placed his palm against the game console. “It’s still warm. I don’t think he’s lying.” He peered into the other bedroom. “That must be Jonathan Gardner’s room. Do you want to get started in there?”

“Let’s wait and see what his roommate has to say before we do anything.”

Fennel nodded and took another deep breath. “He scared the shit out of me.”

“Me too.” I glanced down at Fennel’s hand, but it was no longer shaking. “I’m glad he’s not dead. Hopefully, he’ll be able to give us some answers.”

Fennel looked around the apartment. “That’d be nice, but I’m not holding my breath.” He went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Then he checked the cabinets, closing each of the doors as he went.

“What are you looking for?” I knew my partner. He was always professional, but the small voice in the back of my mind that worried about him and could never quite shake the memory of that one time I found him passed out on the floor of his apartment couldn’t help but wonder if he was looking for a drink.

“Motive.” He came around the counter just as Golden emerged from the bedroom, dressed in a black t-shirt and sweatpants.

“Johnny’s really dead?” Golden licked his lips and looked uncertainly at the mess on the coffee table. “Like dead dead? Not like Halloween dead or like in a coma but he might still come out of it but doornail dead?”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” I nodded to the sofa. “Why don’t you sit down? Brad, get him a glass of water.”

Golden rubbed his face. “And you’re not with Moonlight?”

“No, sir.” I sat down beside him. My partner came around the couch and placed the glass on top of one of the pizza boxes. “What can you tell us about your roommate? Do you know anyone who would want to harm him?”

“No. Johnny was that guy. You know that guy.” He looked up at my partner. “The one you can always count on. The one who lets you crash on his couch when your girlfriend kicks you out. The guy who always invites everyone over for a barbeque or a party. He’s always so calm and chill. People gravitate toward him. He makes everyone feel better. He’s that guy. No one would hurt him. Are you sure he’s dead? Maybe I should call him.” Golden stood abruptly. “I’m gonna call him.”

“Mr. Golden,” I began.

“Liv,” Fennel shook his head, “let him be.”

We watched him dial and wait. When no one answered, he hung up. “You know, Johnny should be back by now.”

“What time does he usually get back?” Fennel asked, deciding it was easier to play along than to pound reality into Golden’s head.

“A little after eight. He works ten to six. The dry cleaner’s opens at seven, and once Mr. Lee shows up, Johnny heads back to the office and clocks out or whatever.”

“Do you know why Mr. Lee hired a night watchman?” I asked.

“That was Moonlight Security’s brilliant idea. Anyone who upgraded to the deluxe package was assigned a guard for the first thirty days or six weeks or something. I don’t know. But that’s why Johnny started working there. He spends his nights watching TV and movies on his phone.” Golden glanced down at his cell phone. “Maybe his battery’s dead.”

I’d seen grief and denial but never to this extreme. “Does Johnny have any family or relatives close by?”

“Nah. He moved out here for college and never went back. His folks live out of state.”

Fennel handed him his notepad and pen. “Can you write down their names and a phone number, if you have it?”

Golden took the paper and reached for his phone. “Sure.” He scrolled through his contact information and copied the phone number and address into my partner’s notebook. At least we wouldn’t have to make the notification.

“When’s the last time they visited?” Fennel entered the details into his phone and shot off a text to someone at the precinct to get the ball rolling. We’d have to contact the local police, and they’d make the notification in person. It was only marginally better than us calling long distance to give Jonathan Gardner’s parents the bad news.

“Not since the summer. Johnny went home for the holidays to see them, but they only get together about twice a year. He’s busy, and they don’t like to travel. He always says he should visit them more often.” He