Free Murder in the River City by Allison Brennan

with the door, and tied me up. I screamed when my shoulder popped out. End of story.”
    There was more to it, Sam was certain. She was too bruised just to have been hit by the door.
    “Can you describe him?”
    “Not well. He was wearing a white hoodie, but he was white with a fair complexion, pale eyes—light green or blue—and had a square jaw with a dimple. Clean-shaven. Smelled like cologne. Just a little, but nothing I recognized. Jeans. Wore gloves. But I think you should still dust for prints because someone else was here. And someone came here on Saturday night after Mack got off work, brought him beer. The receipt is in the refrigerator, tucked in the cardboard carrier. Mack doesn’t peel off his beer labels, but his guest did.”
    “Slow down,” John said.
    “This is important!”
    “I can’t write as fast as you talk,” he said.
    Sam didn’t know if he was joking or not.
    John asked, “Do you know what, if anything, was taken?”
    “His TV and computer are here, but the desk had been gone through.”
    John looked around the bedroom. “Where’s the computer?”
    “In the living room. On the desk.”
    “It’s not,” John said.
    “It was on the desk when I got here.”
    Shauna stood up, but was unsteady on her feet. Sam caught her before she fell.
    “I need to see the living room. I’ll tell you exactly what he took.”
    Sam put his arm around Shauna’s waist and supported her as she walked to the living room. That she let him was a testament to how shitty she felt.
    She looked around. “He was in here no more than two minutes, but it looks like he went through the desk. I had closed the drawers after looking for Mack’s financial papers, and the top two are open. He took the computer. And he took the beer bottles. They were right there on the table.”
    John went over to the refrigerator. “There’s no beer in here.”
    “I’m not lying!”
    Sam tried to console her. “No one thinks you’re lying.”
    “Why are you talking in that tone?”
    “Ms. Murphy,” John said, “I understand you’re trying to help, but you should have called when you realized something was out of place.”
    She put her hands on her hips and her skin reddened. Sam tried to stop her temper, but she let loose. “I did call you! I called as soon as I saw that the desk was a mess. I had already cleaned out the perishable food and put the garbage by the door—” They all turned and looked at the door.
    The garbage bag was gone.
    “That’s just great. A thief who takes out the garbage! I’m going to Dooley’s. Call me when you know anything.” She walked out.
    “She shouldn’t be driving,” Sam said.
    “Buddy, I’m really sorry. She’s called me so much these last two days—I ignored it.”
    “It’s not your fault. I’ll talk to her again, make sure she understands she needs to give us time to do our job. She’s impulsive with a temper, but she’s not irresponsible.”
    John nodded. “Find out about that beer she remembers. We can pull security tapes if we have a location.”
    “Already planned on it.” He paused. “You know, this break-in means Mack’s murder might have nothing to do with the pub break-in.”
    “Yep. I agree. It also means he might have been involved in something a bit shady.”
    Sam agreed, but didn’t say anything.
    “I already started a cursory background check. I’m going to dig deeper. Might want to give Shauna a heads up.”
    “I’ll do that. See you in the morning.”
    Sam walked out and was surprised to find Shauna sitting outside the door.
    “I’m sorry, Sam,” she said.
    “It wasn’t your fault.”
    “I heard everything.”
    He expected an argument, but she didn’t say anything. Sam extended his hand and she took it. He helped her up, noticing she winced. “You okay with what we find?”
    “I’ll have to be.” She looked at him, her eyes red from tears and pain. “All I want is the truth. I want to know who killed Mack and why. And then I want