The Porn Identity

Chapter 6

       "What?"

       She touched at the skin beneath her eye. "His right eye was black..."

       "He got into a fight?"

       "He said he broke up a fight in front of a Circle K and one of the guys swung on him."

       Broke up a fight in front of the Circle K my Black ass. Noah was a prolific liar. How much of that is true and how much of it false? "Interesting."

       "Anyway, I went to bed early since I had to get up early that Saturday."

       "What was he doing when you went to bed?"

       "Nothing special. He said he had to finish up some work. Last time I saw him he was at the kitchen table with his laptop." Her bottom lip trembled slightly; her eyes glistened. "The next morning, I found him dead in the backyard. Someone shot him..."

       I frowned. "You didn't hear anything? The gunshot?"

       She shook her head again. "I took a sleeping pill. I was out for seven hours."

       But still...guns are loud as hell. "You didn't hear anything?"

       She bit at her lip. "Well...I think I heard arguing...but maybe I dreamed it."

       "You told all this to the police?"

       "Yes."

       We sat in silence as I thought it over. "My fee is twice the original rate."

       Her mouth dropped. "What? Why?"

       I kept my expression neutral. "We're dealing with murder now. Hazard pay."

       Her lips pressed into a thin line as she weighed her options. "It's a deal."

       "Fine," I opened the bottom drawer of my desk and pulled out my purse. "But we should go now."

       "Where?"

       "Your house." I stood. "I need to see that crime scene."

***************************

       The tragic couple had lived in a one-story ranch house in Arlington. Ancient oaks draped with Spanish moss blanketed the street from both sides providing consistent shade to any car that parked on the street. Most yards were well maintained, and most driveways had at least two cars parked. It wasn't Beverly Hills or anything, but I'd bet the rent was still a bit on the pricey end for a couple of kids fresh out of college. Either a parent co-signed, or extortion pays more than I thought.

       I'd followed Ashley's black Corolla through lowlands, and expressways, and over the San Juan River through mid-day traffic to make it, but here we were.

       The house was a simple white with a gabled brown roof and a moderately sized lawn. The lawn in question seemed ripped and wrinkled from the storm of footprints that marred the lush green with thick brown mud. Too bad he got murdered in rainy season. And that cops don't care to be gentle when they investigate.

       I pulled my car up to the curb as Ashley pulled into the bare bones concrete driveway that held a semi steep incline—probably built for flooding purposes.

       I stepped out and looked around. The street was mostly quiet except for the distant sounds of hammering, drilling, and lawn mowing. Crazy no one heard that gun shot. Maybe the whole neighborhood takes sleeping pills.

       As I side-stepped to close the door, my foot landed in a pile of mushy cigarette butts. I swore and wiped the bottom of my shoe against the raised curb. Only thing worse than a smoker is a smoker who litters. Fuckin' littering chain smokers, man.