The Tessa Randolph Collection, Books 1-3 by Paula Lester (best ereader for comics .txt) 📗

super late. The only thing she could hope for now was that Mr. Sanborn’s soul was still hanging around his body. The poor guy had been there alone for fifteen minutes.

She hurried across the lobby to the stairwell and sprinted up the steps to the second floor. There, she had to pause and drag in some breaths again before heading down to Chet Sanborn’s apartment.

Upon arrival, she found his door was open. First, the unforeseen cause of death, now this. Her neck prickled with gooseflesh.

“Mr. Sanborn?”

There was no answer. After a few moments, Tessa crept into the apartment. The kitchen light was on, and she found a plate of sausage and eggs on the counter. The sink was piled high with dirty dishes. Tessa shuddered as her shoe stuck to the floor. Gross.

The plate of food didn’t look touched. She whirled around and scanned the living room. No Mr. Sanborn. Just piles of clothes, newspapers, and a game of Solitaire laid out on the coffee table.

Okay, okay. Just stay calm. He’s got to be around here somewhere.

She took some breaths to punctuate the self-pep-talk and forced herself through the living room and down the hall. The apartment was set up just like hers, so she knew there would be a bathroom to the left and then a bedroom at the end of the hall.

Maybe he pulled an Elvis. But the bathroom was empty. And disgusting. It didn’t look like it had been cleaned in months.

Tessa threw her hand to her mouth to cover a gag. She hurried farther down the hall for a quick scan of the bedroom. Surprise, surprise. It was messy too. Still, there was no sign of Mr. Sanborn or his soul.

What in the world?

Tessa gripped her phone and considered calling her mother. She had no idea what a reaper should do when their mark wasn’t where he was supposed to be. But she hesitated. The truth was, she was late to Mr. Sanborn’s death. And she wasn’t ready to admit that to Cheryl.

Maybe Sanborn had stumbled out of the apartment. Maybe he’d fallen down the stairs. He could be in the second stairwell—the one Tessa hadn’t used when she went up.

With that idea buoying her spirits, she headed for the door. A few paces from it, she noticed the view of the courtyard through the hallway windows across from Mr. Sanborn’s apartment.

Tessa stopped in her tracks. There, in the middle of the closed pool, which was covered with a tarp that held a couple feet of frigid water, was a body lying face down. She didn’t know why it was such a shock. Or why she was surprised to recognize the salt-and-pepper ring of hair. She’d been looking for a body after all. But what was he doing in the pool?

Her brow wrinkled as her thoughts raced. She thought Mr. Sanborn would be in his apartment. But really, the assignment had only said Mist River Manor, so the pool was still within that description. But why would he be in the pool? And where was his soul?

She forced herself to get moving again. She needed to get downstairs. She needed to find Sanborn’s spirit.

But no sooner had her foot fallen on the thin carpet of the hallway than two men emerged from the stairwell. One wore a police officer’s uniform and the other was Silas. “You said the commotion was coming from up here, sir?” the cop said, his head tilted toward Silas.

“Yeah, I think it was from Chet Sanborn’s apartment.”

Both men stopped in their tracks, finding Tessa in their way.

“Tessa?” Silas questioned. “What were you doing in Mr. Sanborn’s place?”

As though they belonged to someone else and she had no control over them, her eyes slid sideways toward the view of the pool. She dragged them back to the men as fast as she could, but it was too late. They’d both followed her gaze.

Suddenly, the cop was moving fast, coming toward her. “Put your hands up,” he barked.

Chapter 4

“COME ON OUT.” THE OFFICER outside Tessa’s dingy, depressing cell looked bored. He swung open the metal door and waved a hand to hurry her along.

He didn’t have to tell her twice. Tessa darted out of the cell before the man could change his mind.

The burly man wore a shirt a size too big. His name tag read Stewart. Tessa followed him to the lobby of Mist River’s tiny police station. She stopped abruptly when she recognized the back of her mother’s head.

Cheryl was chatting with the officer at the front desk.

Stewart almost ran over her. He deftly stepped to the side, allowing Tessa to collect herself. “Hold on a second. I’ll get your personal belongings out of the locker.”

“Did she post my bail?”

Stewart shook his head. “You’ve been released with no charges. Your boss just let us know you were at the victim’s apartment to do a physical exam for the life insurance company you work for.”

“She did?”

“Maybe next time,” he sneered, “you could mention that when you’re being arrested.”

Or next time she could think better on her feet. Tessa was sure there’d been some instructions in the computer training about how to get in and out of a location without being seen. And she was also positive Cheryl was going to tell her exactly what those instructions were. She sighed. Active learning wasn’t Tessa’s strong suit. She learned by doing. And so far, all she’d learned was what not to do.

Tessa watched Stewart disappear through a door and wondered about what he’d said. He’d called Chet Sanborn a victim. Does that mean he was killed? Murdered?

He’d seemed harmless, if annoying and slightly creepy. Why would someone want to kill him?

Then a thought flitted through her mind. Often, she’d heard a commotion going on above her in Mr. Sanborn’s apartment. And during the wee hours of the morning, she’d sometimes wake up to the sound of loud voices and feet.

Cheryl glanced over her shoulder, noticed Tessa, and frowned momentarily before turning