The Note (Unsolved Mysteries Book 1) by Kim Knight (red seas under red skies .TXT) 📗

the day she walked in a dizzy mess. Her car wouldn’t start. She had parked not far from his garage and was on her way back to her office after a client meeting.

Dressed in a smart suit and heels, she looked good, smelled fantastic, and was very much the strait-laced accountant she was during the day.

He had worked on her car, replaced her dead battery, and managed to get her back on the road. It was her who had passed him a business card and offered to go grab a drink some time.

At the time, he was too focused on his business debts, lack of customers, and climbing out of debt to place dating at the top of his list of priorities. He took the card anyway and made contact the following weekend. That’s how it all started.

A quick fumble after a drunken night out at his place, developed into a regular meet up. When he asked her where it was going, that’s when she came clean about Tony and not wanting to commit to anyone right now. She just wanted to ‘have fun.’

He smiled, at the thought. As a red-blooded man, he wasn’t about to say no to a no-strings-attached, friends with benefits relationship. When the money potential came up, that’s when he changed his tune.

The conversation he and Chelsea had, when she asked him if he would place a hit on Tony, caused him to sit up straight in bed.

“Shit, I should never have told ‘em that.”

He glanced over at the door and imagined Dunne going to town with the story—

placing him in the spotlight as Tony’s murderer.

Damn. He has all the ammunition he needs now. Maybe, he’ll focus on her, he thought and hoped. Yeah, course they will, after all, she wanted him dead, not me. I didn’t want no part of it. Well not the dirty work, anyway.

He just hoped that Dunne and his sidekick would see the logic.

15

Back Tracking

Detective Dunne

Once Lance was placed in a holding cell, Dunne sat at his desk with McDonald casually slumped in the chair opposite him. He and his partner were both in a foul mood over the forensic report that came back on the mystery notes—nothing substantial to report.

In silence he reviewed the cold case file of the murder of Tony Patel.

McDonald looked up from the transcripts of the interviews they had carried out with Chelsea three months ago. “I can’t believe there’s not a single print or DNA, the sender covered his or her tracks well.”

Dunne closed the file and opened another. “Yeap, hardly surprising though.”

“Chelsea really played the part well too. She had everyone fooled. Love, she said.” Dunne held up his hands in quotation marks. “She had no reason to pressure him to change his will, yeah, right.”

McDonald pulled out the transcripts of the interview they had with Manisha, Tony Patel’s wife, and then looked over the notes. “Hmmm, madness, considering he was still married.”

Dunne glanced at his watch. “Shit, we better head over to Mrs Patel’s, we’re late all ready. I said we’d be over again tonight.”

“Yeah, speaking of which”—McDonald got to his feet—“I was looking over her file. She had no idea he was having an affair.” It was a statement rather than a question. He raised an eyebrow in Dunne’s direction. “Not sure I’m buying this, not this time around, anyway.”

Dunne narrowed his eyes, pulled on his jacket, then he turned to his partner. “Why is that?”

“Well, I’m not a woman.” McDonald pulled himself up to his full six-foot-two height.

His blue eyes danced with humour as Dunne caught the gentle giant’s eye contact, then let out belly-rolling laughter that bounced off the walls. “Well, thanks for the reassurance, Josh.”

Dunne caught his breath then eyed his partner. McDonald ran a hand over his low-cut dark hair, and a boyish grin spread across his face. By this time, Dunne was all ears.

“Like I was saying, I’d suspect that when a man tells his wife he wants a separation, the first thing she does is suspect another woman.” McDonald crossed his arms over his muscular chest and stood tall with his feet wide.

“Think about it,” he continued, “they were married thirty years. He was sixty, and she’s in her late fifties. Why separate so late in life?” Dunne crossed the room and grabbed his notepad off the desk.

“Yeah, point taken.” McDonald took his turn and slipped on his suit jacket.

“In her interviews, she was adamant she had no idea or suspected an affair, add to that, she’s hardly Chelsea’s best fan.”

“Where are you going with this, Josh?” Dunne met his partner at the door. A frown covered his face.

He stood face to face with his partner, who was of similar height and build.

McDonald’s ice blue eyes met Dunne’s. He studied his partner’s rugged, Justin Timberlake features—a shadow of a beard covered the man’s chin.

His partner’s sky-blue eyes turn stone cold. “‘Sup Josh? Where are you going with this?”

McDonald leaned against to door frame and crossed one leg over the other. “Well, my theory . . . Manisha Patel is the note sender. She has every reason to want to pin this on Chelsea even if she’s not Tony’s murderer. There was no evidence in the last investigation to suggest she was,” McDonald said then paused for a beat.

“But who else would want to snoop around Chelsea, film her affair, and turn it in with a motivate for wanting Tony dead and his money?”

Dunne leaned his head to one side and considered his partner’s theory. “It would make sense. Right now, we’ve very little to go on.”

McDonald patted Dunne on the shoulder. “Not yet, we don’t. Come on, let’s go.”

16

Old Tricks

Detective Dunne

Dunne parked the car outside Manisha’s home, he glanced over at the front yard and noted the lights where on. He turned to McDonald. His partner remained mute and nodded in the direction of the home.

In silence, both he and his partner stepped out of the car. Dunne locked the doors, and