Free A Motor for Murder (Veronica Margreve Mysteries Book 1) by Valerie Murmel Page A

that he was polite, he was generous with tips and he seemed smart. They started dating, fell in love; their personalities seemed to match. As the 16th-century Polish poets failed to become a hot job ticket, she had moved in with him, continuing to do her PhD and work in the restaurant. Living with him proved a bit harder: he was self-involved and could be very moody. But he would tell her that she was very easy to get along with, and perfect for him. Less than a year later, they had gotten married. Six months after that, they bought the house and started remodeling it.
     
    She felt like she left behind most of her old friends in the area in her move to the “fancy”, new life, and in leaving her waitressing job. Rita said she hadn’t kept in touch with them, besides some random social media updates. Not many were invited to her wedding. (And since I didn’t use Facebook and the like due to being leery of putting out that much personal and identifiable info on the internet, she and I had no news of each other in the meantime.)
     
    George was generous with things and gifts to Rita, lavished his attention on her, and liked showing her off. He also liked having Roger around and thought his company had promise, so he bankrolled it for the next 12 months, paying for office-space rent and supplies, a car to drive and insurance for Roger. Roger wasn’t getting a salary from the venture, but had all his living expenses paid for, the chance to be the CTO of his own start-up – and a cool car to drive, in the bargain.
     
    Telling me all of that, and remembering how caring George could be made Rita sob. I sat there, staring in front of me, wondering what I could do or say to make it easier for her.
     
    Her sobs became louder gulps, she was crying. We sat like that for a while. I got her some water and after a bit she calmed down. I suggested that she should get some rest, and led her upstairs to her bedroom. She fell asleep on top of the blankets, exhausted. I decided to stay in the house for a little longer to make sure she was OK.
     
    It occurred to me that I could use the opportunity to learn something more about the case. Would there be any evidence still in the house, if Rita was the killer? I hated snooping, and hated myself for taking seriously the thought that my friend could have really killed her husband. I felt inner distaste and like looking through Rita’s things would be violating her trust in me and our friendship. Snooping through her dead husband’s things was better in my mind, somehow. On to go into George’s office and look through his papers, then.
     
    In the hallway, moving on tip-toes almost instinctually, I listened to any other signs of life in the house and heard the TV noise coming from downstairs. The nasal voice of the “Matchmaker to the Rich, Famous and Superficial” was droning on about how some girl had to dress “More feminine” and wear skirts instead of pants. Clearly, I, with my love of jeans, was in no danger of being courted by the Wealthy and the Vapid! I assumed the TV was on in the general vicinity of where Roger was. I headed to the office. It was previously taped off as a crime scene, but I knew from Rita that the tape was now removed and George's possessions that had been taken for investigation were now put back.
     
    I started down the corridor, turning my head to see whether I could spot the camera and decide whether it was on or off. Having located it near the door and noticed that it was off (as I hoped it would be), I went in, closing the door behind me.
     
    There was a big stately desk in the middle of the room, with a large monitor on it and a brown leather Herman Miller chair behind it. Another two chairs in front of the desk were turned as if someone sat in them recently. A red-toned rug covered the floor beneath the desk. A window behind the desk overlooked the pool. A couple of framed posters were on the wall – I came close and saw that they were two images