One Deadly Sister (Sandy Reid Mystery Series #1) by Rod Hoisington Page B

maintenance guy told us.”
    “We sent the rug and Reid’s clothing to the lab. We’re waiting for the follow-up report from CSI,” the chief said. “We’re interviewing every occupant of the building.”
    “I talked to Tammy,” Goddard said. “According to her, she met Reid at the restaurant around twelve-thirty. Reid left after thirty minutes saying he was going to find Loraine. Tammy went back to her office. So Reid’s whereabouts are unknown from one o’clock until I picked him up at six-thirty.”
    “I like Reid for this, but an immediate concern here is Barner,” Moran said. “Get more men on that angle, Chief. If he’s alive, then find him. If he’s dead, find his body. There may be a larger plot. What do you think, Goddard?”
    “Barner could be the murderer and he ran. First, he just happens to service the Towson’s apartment a couple of hours before the shooting. And then he’s missing. Or, maybe he got in somebody’s way and his body is now sprawled out in his house. I’d like to search it.”
    “Great idea, but you can’t,” Moran said. “We’d never get a court order to go in there, not this early. And if he’s involved in the murder, we can’t risk any findings being tossed out by the judge.” He turned to Goddard smirking. “Yes, too bad you can’t search his house.”
    “If that’s all, I need to get back on the street.” Goddard left knowing exactly where he needed to go next. He looked up Sonny Barner’s address.
    Barner’s small house was on a corner lot visible from two sides, exposing any vehicle parked on the street. Goddard drove up a dirt driveway at the rear and parked unnoticed in the ragged carport. At the rear door, he found an undemanding key-in-knob lock. He slid a plastic card along the jam and the bolt moved enough to open the door.
    All he needed was a minute inside. No detailed search, just a quick check, for a dead body or signs of a struggle, and Goddard would be out of there. He walked through the kitchen and dining area to the sparsely-furnished living room at the front. The place was standard bachelor-mess. Two old pump shotguns were resting in the corner of a hall closet. He held them up and smelled them. He didn’t know why, habit he guessed. The murder weapon was a .38 revolver, not a shotgun. Neither had been fired recently. Another door off the hall opened to a small bedroom jammed with boxes, tools, hoses and containers smelling of chemicals.
    He found something interesting in the other bedroom. On the small computer desk was a large framed photograph of a naked woman. Beautiful with full breasts, sitting upright and posed looking into the camera, with her hands resting on her spread knees. Looped over one corner of the picture frame like a souvenir, was a real blue bra. Matching panties were hooked on the other side. They didn’t look new.
    Goddard started to walk away when he realized something about the photo. He leaned closer. He recognized the woman. At least he recognized her face. It was Tammy Jerrold.
    He studied the photo for signs of a paste-up. It was seamless. Indeed, it seemed to be Tammy posed there. Probably digitized software was used to put her head on someone’s body.
    Goddard’s only concern was Barner possibly lying dead in the place. On his way out through the kitchen, he paused at the refrigerator; covered with cards, notes and an interesting newspaper clipping. The old clipping from the society page showed Senator Towson in his tuxedo standing with a group of people and Tammy Jerrold at his side. The image of Towson was crossed out with a red felt-tip. Interesting. But there was no dead body in that house.
    Driving back downtown, he was waiting at a traffic light when a lipstick-red Miata dashed across the intersection directly in front of him. He had noticed the little convertible with the top down and bearing Pennsylvania plates earlier that day and had followed it for a while, watching the driver’s short brown hair