Chapter 27
Max led the way up the stairs to Johnny’s second-floor apartment. I would have suspected Johnny lived some place with a bit more security around the premises. This complex didn’t have a single camera in sight.
A man was washing his car, and a woman was walking her dog. Otherwise, the complex was quiet.
Max lifted his hand to knock, and I stopped him. “You promised to stay out of this until I get answers.”
“I promise not to bust his mouth until he gives you answers,” Max corrected.
I knocked.
No answer.
I knocked again and put my ear to the door. It was dead silent. “Maybe he’s not here.”
“His truck is downstairs.” Max gestured down to the parking lot.
I slowly turned the doorknob, and the door opened. “I’d think he’d protect his home better. Stay here while I check things out.”
Max dismissively shook his head and followed me in.
The muscles in my arms tightened. We were technically breaking into a place where the occupant was sure to own a gun and knew how to shoot.
“Johnny?” I called out, easing around the corner into the living room. The room was cloaked in darkness. The shades were drawn.
“McIntire, get out here. We need to talk to you,” Max called out and flicked on the living room lights.
I walked into the clean kitchen. The cooking knives shined like the counters. He was a neat freak. I would have totally guessed the opposite. “I need his maid’s phone number.”
“Knowing him, he probably poached one of Carter’s” Max said.
I gestured to the glasses in the sink and pointed to the lipstick on the rim. “Looks like he had company, and judging by the color of the smudge, it was the same person he’d been kissing when I snuck into Petunia’s room.”
I stepped out of the kitchen and headed down the hallway. The first door was a bathroom. “Two toothbrushes.”
“Roommate?” He asked.
“Girlfriend is my guess.”
I put my ear to the bedroom door, listening for any signs someone was on the other side. Nothing. I pushed it open.
Max stilled beside me, his palm landing on my arm. “Is he…”
“Dead?” I asked, staring at the gruesome scene. Johnny had his hands and legs tied to the bed. A bloody sheet lay over the lower half of his body. Blood and cuts covered his chest. A marble-handled butcher knife protruded from his heart. I pulled out my cell phone and fired off a text to Ms. Delany.
“Ms. Delany is going to call it in. We’ve got fifteen minutes to find what we’re looking for. You check the living room but don’t leave any fingerprints. I’ll check the bedroom.”
“You shouldn’t go in there,” Max said. “If you were to lose a hair follicle, that’s all they’d need to point the finger at you.”
“Let’s hope I don’t shed or that I have an alibi. Judging by the fact he talked to your sister an hour ago, my alibi is you and a drag queen.”
“Good point,” he said heading back into the living room.
I stepped into the bedroom, opened his dresser drawers, and hit the jackpot in the sock drawer. There were pictures of Johnny and Amelia in a compromising position. This wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all.
“How much time would I do for stealing evidence from a crime scene, Counselor?”
“That’s not even funny, Gwen. Whatever you’ve found, leave it.”
