Free A.R. Winters - Valerie Inkerman 01 - Don't Be a Stranger by A.R. Winters Page A

anything kept back as evidence?”
    She shook her head. “I’m not sure that anything was relevant. Her dad probably wanted her things.”
    “But what about her cellphone? The last number she dialed would’ve been evidence.”
    Sara looked at me in surprise, and then her expression turned studiedly blank. “I don’t really know what you’re talking about.”
    I sat back, pleased with myself. “There was no cell phone, was there?”
    Sara shook her head. “Look, I’m really not meant to be talking about it.”
    “Ok,” I said. “That’s fine. But let me tell you my theory. Esme was killed by someone she knew – and that someone might’ve called her. Or she might’ve called the killer. So after he shot her, the killer made sure to take her cellphone with him.”
    My coffee arrived, and the three of us sat around, sipping our coffees silently.
    “I shouldn’t be talking about this,” Sara said finally. “But yes, we could do with some more evidence. As it was, the killer covered his trail carefully.”
    “He used a silencer,” I said, “and the gun’s missing.”
    Sara nodded. “But none of this really means anything. And I suppose I shouldn’t even be talking about the case at all.”
    “That’s ok,” I said, gulping my coffee down quickly. “I really appreciate this. It was good seeing you again.”
    “You too – good luck with the PI work.”
    I smiled. “Bye, Sammy.”
    He grunted in response, and I went over to the counter and paid for my coffee.
    Sara had just confirmed what I’d suspected all along: the killer was someone who’d been involved in Esme’s life. Which meant that he or she needed to go to some trouble to erase themselves from the picture.
    And perhaps – just perhaps – there was some part of the picture that they were still visible in. Maybe there was something they’d overlooked.

Chapter Sixteen
     
    “You might’ve taken me with you,” Jerry whined, when I told him about my chat with Sara.
    “Well, maybe next time,” I said unconvincingly, as I wrote up my notes for the visit.
    “When’s next time?” Jerry said.
    I gave him a look that I hoped said “please stop t alking,” and then went back to my notes. I needed to focus. I needed a plan, a list of things I could do sequentially.
    I didn’t have a list. And so far, I’d only talked to Esme’s family. I shuffled through my cards, hoping they’d help me come up with a to-do list.
    “I think,” I said slowly, “there’s two ways I can do this. I can go through the guest list at the party and go through all the people who were there, investigating them–”
    “But that’s over a hundred people,” Jerry interrupted before I could get to the second idea. “More, if you count the catering team.”
    “Yeah. And I’m pretty sure the killer was someone who was in Esme’s life.”
    “So first you’re going to talk to people who knew Esme?”
    “I think so.”
    I’d found an article on a business website that calculated Laurence Lindl’s net worth at almost $210 million. With Esme out of the way, Michelle would stand to inherit an extra $20 - $30 million dollars. Which certainly wasn’t chump change.
    An annoying little voice reminded me that Darren stood to benefit from Esme’s death in exactly the same way. But I hadn’t talked to Darren yet. I decided that until tomorrow night, I would continue to think of him as the charming, good-looking man whom I’d barely talked to. Sure, people said he was a womanizer, but until I had dinner with him, I would withhold my judgment. 
    “Michelle told me she was out at The Chemistry Club on Friday night. And she mentioned the two friends she was out with, but I didn’t grab their last names or their phone numbers. She was kind of in a hurry to shove me out the door, and then…” I let my voice trail off, not really wanting to mention Darren. I felt weak just remembering his handsome, chiseled face. But if his plan was to get into my pants and then