Death Opens a Window Read online

  Emory returned the framed license to the desktop. “That should give me just enough room for my business cards.”

  Virginia hung up the phone. “Oh my god.”

  Jeff plopped his butt on her desk. “What is it?”

  “That was Becky Melton.”

  “Who’s Becky Melton?” asked Emory.

  “Becky Melton,” repeated Jeff. “You mean Becky Rand? Your homophobic best friend from high school?”

  “She used to be Becky Rand. You know good and well she got married like four years ago. And she’s not homophobic. She just didn’t like you.”

  Emory stood and wagged his finger between his partners. “I thought you two were best friends since high school.”

  Virginia side-eyed her seated partner. “We ebb and flow.”

  Jeff crossed his arms. “Oh whatever.”

  “Becky married while I was in the Marines, and I’ve only seen her a couple of times since I got out. The last time was at a Fourth of July party.”

  “Enough backstory.” Jeff slapped his thigh. “What were you oh-my-godding about?”

  “Her husband died.”

  Emory was the first to offer condolences. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I have to go.” Virginia rose from her chair and grabbed her purse.

  Jeff pushed off the desk. “Why?”

  “Because she’s my friend, and she asked for me.”

  “I just mean you haven’t seen her in almost seven months, and she calls you the morning her husband dies? Don’t you find that odd?”

  “No. I. Don’t.”

  Emory asked, “How did he die?”

  “He crashed through the twenty-ninth-story window in a building downtown.”

  “He jumped out a window?” asked Jeff.

  “No. She said he crashed into the building.” They don’t know if it’s an accident or suicide or what.” Virginia headed for the door but stopped once her hand touched the knob. “Guys, we need to look into this for her.”

  Jeff clapped his hands together. “Did she want to hire us?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Her husband worked for the TVA, and she works at a museum. They don’t have any money, so I know she wouldn’t even think to ask for our help.”

  Jeff shook his head. “Virginia, I’m really sorry about her loss, but we have paying clients asking for our services. You want us to put them on hold to investigate a case we won’t get paid for and that we haven’t even been asked to take?”

  Virginia looked him in the eyes. “I’m asking you.”

  Jeff broke from her stare and grabbed Emory’s arm. “This is a three-way partnership now, so we have a tiebreaker. Emory, do we take the nonpaying job that no one has asked us to take, or do we serve one of the potentially loyal and well-paying future clients begging for our help?”

  Virginia rolled her eyes. “No one begged.”

  Jeff raised his index finger. “No trying to sway the jury.”

  “What do you think you were doing?”

  Jeff waved off her protest and flashed a coercive smile. “Emory, the choice is yours.”

  Chapter 2

  Once the three partners of Mourning Dove Investigations stepped out of Emory’s car, their heads turned toward the Godfrey Tower two blocks away. Rectangular with no slopes or balconies, the building reflected the late-morning sun on the side facing the street. Emory visored his eyes with his hand and pointed to a broken window on the twenty-ninth floor. “There it is.”

  Virginia responded, “I see it.”

  “Let’s just get this over with,” grumbled Jeff, glaring at Emory. “I still can’t believe you sided with her.”

  “Aren’t you the least bit curious how a man crashed through a window that high from the outside with no obvious way to get there?”

  Jeff started walking down the sidewalk. “Moderately.”

  Emory nodded to the fifteen-story building across the street. “The nearest structure is too far away and too short for him to have come from there.”

  Virginia looked up and down the street. “No cranes either.”

  Emory followed his partners as he continued scanning the perimeter. “Virginia, how much do you know about Becky’s husband?”

  “I only saw him a couple of times. The first time I met him, I was surprised because he wasn’t anyone I would picture with Becky. She always dated athletic guys, and Corey was more chess club than varsity. He was really cute but thin and no taller than me. Plus, he was like nine years older than her.” Virginia smiled. “I remember he was also funny as hell. Everyone around him seemed to enjoy his company.” She pointed to Jeff. “You two probably would’ve become friends if you had met.”

  Jeff shook his head. “Too much work. Two funny guys, always competing to top each other? I prefer spending time with someone like Emory.”

  The newbie PI huffed. “I do have a sense of humor, you know.”

  Jeff smirked. “Let’s make finding it our next case.”

  Virginia slapped Jeff on the forearm as they passed a bus stop. “That’s not nice.”

  From behind them Emory would’ve responded, but something else caught his attention – a picture of himself in a poster ad on the side of a bus stop. The header in the ad read, “Here to help you,” and the text below it stated, “Mourning Dove Investigations welcomes TBI hero Emory Rome!” Beneath that was a list of investigative specialties, including murder, missing persons, fraud and blackmail.

  Stunned into gawking stillness, Emory could feel his face flushing. “Oh my god.”

  His partners backtracked to see what had captured his attention, and Jeff grinned. “My ad!”

  Emory poked the billboard. “You did this?”

  “Me and Virginia. Surprise!”

  “How could you feature me in an ad without asking me first? And where did you get that picture?”

  Jeff smiled at the photo of Emory leaning against a tree wearing a brown leather jacket, a cowboy hat and a sexy look that, knowing Emory, was unintentional. “Your mom sent it to me.”

  “You and my mom correspond?”

  “Just the once. I asked her for a photo, and she said this was her favorite.”

  “You could’ve asked me.”

  “Yes, and I’d still be waiting.”

  Virginia grabbed her phone from her purse and took a picture of Emory next to the ad. “What’s your issue with it?”

  Emory gestured toward the picture. “For one, I was eighteen when that picture was taken, and I look like a dork.”

  Jeff grimaced at him. “That was five years ago. You haven’t changed that much. By the way, do you still have that outfit?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Too bad. It’s hot.”

  Emory ignored his comment and returned his attention to Virginia. “Another reason is I don’t think we should leverage my service with the TBI for profit.”

  She shook her head. “That part’s not up for debate.”

  Jeff agreed. “Look, we granted you full partner status without any financial investment on your part. Your experience is your capital, and we need to exploit that.”

  Emory frowned at them both. “Fine. I guess one little ad isn’t that big a deal.” His remark elicited an unexpected laugh from Jeff, while Virginia turned her face away from him. “What? Jeff, what is it?”

  “I used the reward money from the Algarotti case to launch an aggressive new ad campaign.”

  “When you say aggressive—”

  “I mean we have ads going up all over Knoxville and online. You’ll be even more famous than you were before, and that halo’s going to spread to the agency.”

  Although delivered as good news, Jeff’s words intensified the horror on Emory’s face.

  “I want Mourning Dove Investigations to be the biggest detective agency in Tennessee, but I don’t just want to compete with other PIs. I want to compete with the police. With the TBI. Hell, the FBI maybe. I want
us to solve cases before they do. To take the cases they can’t, or won’t, solve. To be the go-to agency for victims of crime. Sure, call the police first, but Mourning Dove Investigations is your second call. We’ll be the first step in privatizing criminal investigations.” Jeff placed an arm around Virginia and one around Emory. “Now let’s go crack this pro bono puzzle, and maybe we can move on to a real case by lunch.”

  Virginia told him, “Jeff, do not make Becky feel like less of a client because she can’t pay. I want you to treat this like any other case.”

  “You call it a case. I call it charity.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “Do you think her husband had life insurance?”

  Virginia insisted as they entered the building, “We’re not asking for money.”

  Moments later, when the elevator doors opened on the twenty-ninth floor, the trio of investigators could already see the scene of the potential crime through the paned-glass wall that separated the office space from the hallway. While police questioned employees and cataloged the arena, the body stiffened on the floor in the center of a yellow-taped perimeter that included the broken window.

  The three were about to enter the office when a policewoman stopped them. “You can’t come in here.”

  Virginia was the first to speak up. “Officer, we’re looking for Becky Melton, the victim’s wife.”

  The officer centered herself in the doorway. “Unless you were here at the time of the incident and haven’t given your statement yet, you’re not coming in.”

  “Emory!” A grinning police detective greeted him at the door. “I figured the TBI would be here once I found out the victim worked at the TVA.”

  Emory shook his hand. “Lester, how are you?”

  “Excellent. Who are your friends?”

  He froze for a second as he debated whether to admit he was no longer with the TBI. “My partners.”

  Lester squinted at them. “The TBI is doing threesomes now?”

  Emory pointed to Jeff. “He’s actually a trainee. Virginia here is my partner.”

  Jeff sneered at Emory, displaying his displeasure at the demotion. “I’m learning so much.”

  Virginia stepped in front of him to talk to Lester. “Is the victim’s wife here?”

  “Yeah, she insisted on coming down.” The police detective pointed to a wooden door beyond a quadrant of cubicles. “We put her up in that office over there.”

  “I’ll go talk to her.”

  “She’s pretty messed up. We didn’t want her to see the body, but it’s hard to hide.”

  As Virginia walked away, Lester gave Emory a light punch on the shoulder. “So what happened to your other partner?”

  “I needed a change.”

  “I hear that. Come on, let me show you the victim.” Lester led them to the body, their path littered with papers blown from the desks by the steady wind whistling through the new opening. He lifted the yellow tape for them and stopped at the edge of a pool of blood that surrounded the victim’s head like a sanguine aura. “His name is Corey Melton. Thirty-four, married, no kids. The man who witnessed it kept saying he just flew into the window. Out of nowhere.”

  “What time?” asked Emory.

  “Eight-forty-five.”

  While Jeff inspected every inch of the body without touching it, Emory took notes and pictures of the victim with his phone. “He’s a small guy. What, maybe five-foot-six?”

  The detective nodded and continued debriefing them on all he knew. “He’s the manager of generation resources for the TVA. He’s in the corporate branch office on the fifth floor of this building.”

  Jeff pointed to Corey’s palms. “His hands are red.”

  Lester laughed. “That’s probably blood, trainee.” He looked at Emory as if hoping he would join him in laughing at the obvious observation. Emory did but stopped when he saw Jeff glaring at him.

  “I’m not talking about the blood.” Jeff pointed to a rough red line across the width of both palms. “It looks like burns, like he held onto something hot.”

  Emory zoomed in on the hands and took pictures. “You’re right.” He headed to the broken window, followed by Jeff, and each took a position on either side of the hole. They stuck their heads out to look down, up and toward both sides. “Where did he come from?”

  Although not close to the window, Lester took a step backwards. “Guys please. You’re making me nervous.”

  The men stepped away from the window, and Emory’s eyes ping-ponged between the body and the opening. “Any idea how he got here?”

  “None whatsoever. Someone joked he was a human pumpkin.”

  Jeff shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

  “You know, pumpkin chunkin’ – like someone catapulted him up here.” Lester mimed a catapult with his arms.

  “What the hell are you doing here?!”

  The three men turned toward the door to see the profane inquisitor, and Emory’s shoulders slumped at the sight of his former TBI partner.

  Chapter 3

  Virginia knocked on the office door but entered without waiting for an invitation. Becky Melton, her narrow back to the door and blonde curls resting on drooped shoulders, spoke in the monotone of someone teetering on exhaustion as she recounted the last time she saw her husband alive. “He had to be at work an hour earlier than me, so he was always up and dressed first. The last time I saw him was through the shower door. He liked watching me shower.”

  One of the officers in the cramped room moved to intercept Virginia. “Miss, you can’t be in here.”

  “Virginia!” Becky’s voice sparked to life, and she pushed herself out of the chair.

  As the new widow ambled toward her, arms outstretched, tears ran from her blue eyes down the dried channels of previous flows. Virginia embraced her, allowing her a moment of emotional release. “I’m so sorry, Becky. Officers, could you give us a few minutes?”

  The officers grimaced at each other but complied. The last one out the door gave her the “five minutes” sign before leaving them alone.

  Virginia reiterated her condolences as she eased her embrace. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  Becky lifted her puffy cheek from Virginia’s breast and threw up her hands. “I don’t know. He left for work, and about an hour later, the police called.”

  “Do you have any idea how he ended up on the outside of that window?”

  “Corey’s deathly afraid of heights. He always keeps the blinds closed in his office because he can’t even look out a fifth-floor window without getting dizzy.”

  “Do the police have any ideas?”

  “They’re not coming right out and saying it, but I can tell they think he killed himself.” Becky looked her friend in the eyes. “Virginia, there is absolutely no way Corey committed suicide. He wouldn’t have done that.”

  Virginia placed an arm around her shoulders and assured her, “I’m going to find out what happened.”

  Becky’s eyes popped wide open. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve already discussed it with my partners—”

  Becky shook her head. “No. No, I can’t afford to pay you.”

  “This one’s on the house.”

  “I can’t let you do that.”

  “We insist.”

  “We? Not just you?”

  Virginia smiled at Becky’s underestimation of her offer. “I don’t do field work. I brought my friend Jeff Woodard. You remember him.”

  “That skinny preppy from high school who talked you into going into business with him?”

  “He’s not skinny anymore, and he’s an excellent private investigator. Plus, we just took on a new partner who was with the TBI.”

  Wayne Buckwald’s round, ruddy face expressed outrage, but his eyes gleamed with the excitement of a sadistic child shaking a jar of lightning bugs. He repeated his question, stressing every third word. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Emory could feel the heat emanating fr
om his face as his brain scrambled for words to say. “Wayne… How are you?”

  “Why are you two standing in my crime scene?”

  Glancing at Wayne and Emory, Lester forced a laugh in an apparent attempt at easing the tension before the air snapped. “Were you two assigned to the same case? Clerical error?”

  Wayne lifted the yellow tape and stepped within two feet of Emory. “He wasn’t assigned to any case because he’s no longer with the TBI.”

  Lester’s rosacea-stained cheeks dropped. His eyes grew to circles of confusion. “I don’t understand. Emory?”

  Seconds of silence answered before Jeff spoke up for his tongue-tied partner. “We’re private investigators working for the victim’s wife.”

  The police detective inspected Emory’s face. “Is this true?”

  Emory forced his eyes from Wayne to Lester. “It’s true.”

  Lester’s face hardened. “You should’ve told me.”

  Emory opened his mouth to apologize, but Wayne interrupted. “I’ll give you and the missus here three seconds to get out of here before I charge you with impersonating a state officer, tampering with a crime scene and interfering with an investigation.”

  Emory and Jeff looked at each other, and Wayne pointed at the exit. “Get!”

  In silence, Emory slipped under the yellow tape, followed by Jeff.

  “Oh Emory.” Wayne grinned when the PIs turned around to face him again. “Before you leave, I want to introduce you to my new partner, Steve Linders.”

  Until Wayne pointed him out, Emory hadn’t noticed anyone standing next to his former partner. A bear of a man with a shaved head and a sweet face half-framed by a thick but shaped beard, Steve smiled and nodded to him. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Don’t be nice to them! Crime is shit, and PIs are the dung beetles. They wallow in it, and we clean it up.” Wayne patted his new partner on the back. “Steve here is totally by-the-book. A real straight-shooter. Straight and narrow.”

  “Okay, Wayne, I get it. You can stop now.”