Free [To Die For 01] - A View to Die For (2012) by Richard Houston

once told him how you always guessed who did it when we used to watch Murder She Wrote when we were kids.” She took her coffee pot from its burner and pushed the off button. “Just enough for two more cups. You want a refill?”
    I held up my empty cup, nodding yes. “Why would he want me to solve the murder of a couple of strangers? They are strangers? Aren’t they?”
    “Far as I know,” she said, filling my cup. “He never mentioned them to me. But what is this about Mickey Mouse? Sometimes your comments don’t make any sense at all.”
    “Nothing I did seemed to work, so I broke down and spent the money on a reverse lookup of born2fish’s email address. It’s registered to Mickey Mouse who lives at 123 Main Street, Disneyland, CA.”
    Meg walked back to her kitchen counter with the empty pot. “There must be some way to find him,” she said, looking over her shoulder.
    “Of course there is. All you need to do is subpoena the records of the ISP that born2fish sent the email from. Do you have any friends at the FBI?”
    She turned toward me looking defeated. “So it’s a dead-end then?”
    “Maybe, Meg, it’s time to bring in a professional who has connections.”
    Megan turned away from me and placed her coffee pot back in its machine. She had her back to me when she answered, so I couldn’t tell for sure, but it sounded like she was crying. “I don’t have the money to hire a private detective. You’re all I’ve got, Jake. Please, don’t quit now.”
    Fred was back at the sliding door wanting in. He must have gone for a swim to cool off; he was dripping wet. “I better go out there with him before he starts scratching at your screen.” His timing was perfect. I never knew how to respond to female emotions. “And don’t worry. We’ll find a way to prove Mike didn’t kill himself.”
    “Oh, Porky. You’re the best brother in the world,” she said while wiping away a tear. I was out the door before she could ask me how I planned to turn into a male version of Jessica Fletcher.
    Fred gave me plenty of time to think while I waited for him to dry off. Ironically, the drier he got the wetter I became. Because of the humidity, I was soaking with perspiration. Fred didn’t have that problem. Dogs don’t sweat, nor do they worry about how to prove an in-law didn’t kill himself.
    Once Fred had dried off sufficiently enough to not ruin my sister’s imported hardwood floors, Megan was nowhere in sight, but I could hear her on the phone in Mike’s office. I gave her a wave as I passed, heading for the guest bathroom to take a shower. Fred went to the kitchen where she had put out a water bowl for him. She had had the sense to put it on a large throw rug.
    Megan was back in the kitchen when I finished my shower. I could hear her talking to Fred, so I wrapped myself in a bath towel and went back to Mike’s office to change into some dry clothes. I spent the rest of the afternoon on the phone with my insurance company. Contrary to their television ads, getting them to help in a fast and friendly manner was simply BS. They finally agreed to pay twenty-five dollars a day for a rental until the adjuster could estimate the damage to my car.
    Next, I searched Truman’s twenty page phone book for a car rental. There wasn’t any, so I tried the Sedalia book. A quick call to the first listing got me a car for only thirty-five dollars a day on a weekly basis. So much for insurance.
    Megan and Fred were on the deck when I finished. Fred had his head in her lap getting an ear massage while Meg talked on her phone. She had it on speaker mode – evidently so her hands would be free to work on Fred. “Okay. I’ll see you later then,” she said, then reached over and pushed the off button.
    “Was that Kevin?” I asked.
    “No. Just an old girlfriend. Kevin never came home last night,” she answered without making eye contact. Her tone sounded worried.
    “Is something wrong? Is he okay?”
    She quit