Free No Such Thing as a Secret: A Brandy Alexander Mystery (No Such Thing As...A Brandy Alexander Mystery) by Shelly Fredman

was no accident.”
    Bobby slumped down onto the couch, his long legs crossed at the ankles. His heart was breaking for his missing friend and now he had a hysterical woman to contend with. Well, tough.
    “Did you hear what I said? I think that fire was set intentionally. I think someone was out to get John.”
    “Come on, Brandy. Who would want to kill Johnny?”
    “I don’t know,” I admitted, “but what I do know, you’re not going to like.”
    Bobby sat up, cop face in place. “Okay, spill it.”
    I took a deep breath and started at the beginning. I told him about John’s friend’s birthday party, about how John had recognized the murder victim from the pictures he’d taken and had contacted the police.
    “Why didn’t he come to me?” Bobby demanded.
    “You were on vacation, ” I said, pointedly.
    His eyes flashed with pain. Why do I keep doing that?
    “Look, there was nothing you could have done. You didn’t know John was going to come up with evidence in a murder. Anyway, he called the police station and some cop came over to talk to him.”
    “Did you get a name?”
    I thought back to our conversation. “No. He just said it was the guy in charge of the case.”
    “Then what?”
    “Then the cop took Johnny’s pictures and thanked him for his help. Oh, and he warned him not to talk about it to anyone. He said it could really screw up the investigation if any information were to leak out.”
    “Did you see a copy of the pictures?”
    “No. This all took place before I got into town. He just told me there was a shot of the murdered guy and some guy seated next to him. They looked like they were on a date.”
    “Brandy, I still don’t see how we go from John taking some pictures that may or may not have had something to do with one murder, to him being the target of another one.”
    “I’m getting to that. When John picked me up at the airport he was acting all jumpy and weird. Then he told me that since he’d given his statement to the police and handed over the pictures, strange things had begun to happen.”
    “Like what?”
    “Like he felt like he was being followed. And he thought someone had been in his apartment. And someone almost ran him over.”
    “He felt like? He thought? He almost? From this you conclude that John’s on some kind of cop hit list? Jesus, Brandy, have you completely lost your mind?”
    When he put it that way, the man had a point.
    “Okay,” I conceded. “But there’s something else. A few days ago I ran into Vince Giancola. He started complaining about work, per usual, and he mentioned this murder case. Then he said it’s been frustrating because there isn’t any evidence. I’m paraphrasing, but he clearly said there weren’t any leads. I started to ask him about the pictures, but John wasn’t supposed to have told anyone about them, so I kept my mouth shut.”
    Bobby was quiet for a moment, his face unreadable. I watched the muscles in his jaw tighten and release. “This doesn’t make any sense,” he said finally. “Why would the police stonewall the D.A.’s office about the evidence? They usually share what they know.”
    “I don’t know. And how do you explain the fact that John hands over the pictures and then all these weird things start happening?”
    “What things?” Bobby exploded. “You said yourself that John wasn’t even sure anything was happening. Christ, Brandy, you haven’t changed one iota since the day I met you. You were always looking for ‘the story.’ You had more conspiracy theories than the History Channel. What happened to John was an accident. A tragic, senseless accident. But that’s all it was.”
    “It figures you’d say that. Cops always watch each other’s backs. Code Blue, isn’t that what they call it?” Low blow I know, but I was royally pissed.
    Bobby got to his feet. An angry blue vein popped up on the side of his neck and began to throb as he fought for control over his emotions.
    “I think