Free The Extinguished Guest (A Lexie Starr Mystery, Book 2) by Jeanne Glidewell Page B

and stepped out to
     read the sign printed with a red magic marker. He re-entered the car, shivered dramatically,
     and turned toward me.
    "Chilly out there, isn't it?" he commented, placing his icy fingers against my neck.
     He then pulled them back and began blowing on his hands to warm them. "The sign says
     the business will be temporarily closed due to the unexpected death of Horatio Prescott.
     Employees will be notified by phone when they're to return to work. Looking through
     the glass doors, though, I saw a man who looked like Boris going out the back door
     with a very large, bulging trash bag. I'm almost positive it was Boris, even though
     I didn't see his blue Chrysler in the front parking lot. Now I'm going to sneak around
     to the back of the building and see if I can see anything else."
    I waited while Stone walked around to the back of the building. While he was gone,
     I saw Boris pull around the building in his navy blue sedan. He drove out of the parking
     lot without even glancing my way. Just a few seconds later I heard the trunk on Tony's
     Chevy pop open behind me. I turned to look at Stone as he tossed a large trash sack
     in the trunk and then jumped back into the car.
    "I want to follow him. Which way did he turn?" he asked, gasping for breath. I pointed
     south, and Stone drove out of the parking lot and turned in that direction. "Boy,
     am I winded! Next time I buy a stationary bike I'm going to use it more than a half
     dozen times before I sell it in a garage sale for five bucks."
    "You used a stationary bike six times?" I asked. "I'm impressed. I can't remember
     using mine more than twice. But I got ten bucks for it because it was still in 'like
     new' condition. I hadn't even removed the original price sticker, yet."
    "Yes, but did you dust yours for three years before you sold it?"
    "No, I disposed of it quickly because I didn't want to be reminded of my vow to get
     in shape and use it an hour a day, every day. It sat in the corner of the living room
     and taunted me for just two months before I sold it."
    "Good for you. I love a woman who can stand up to a piece of exercise equipment and
     show it she's the boss."
    I chuckled at his remark. It struck me at that moment I had laughed more in the few
     months I'd known Stone than I'd laughed in the entire twenty years since my husband
     Chester had died. Having a man in my life again was turning out to be good for me
     in more ways than I'd anticipated. "What's in the bag, Stone? Any idea?"
    "No, other than what appears to be a lot of shredded paper. Later we'll check out
     the contents of the trash bag. He was sure intent on getting rid of it in the dumpster.
     I could see by the look on his face he was convinced no one had seen him take that
     bag out of the building. He's covering his butt for some reason—getting rid of a paper
     trail or evidence of something. He's either guilty of murdering his business partner,
     or concerned about white-collar crimes that might be uncovered in an all-out investigation.
     That'd be my bet at this point."
    We soon caught up with the dark blue Chrysler Concorde. Stone tried to stay several
     cars behind Boris. We followed him for about twenty miles before he turned off into
     the immense parking lot of the new horseracing facility. The racetrack had caused
     a lot of controversy among local residents as it was being built. The newspapers had
     been full of editorials for and against the new racetrack. Many of the town's citizens
     thought all the new casinos in the Kansas City area were detrimental enough without
     adding other outlets for gambling.
    I had to agree the new gaming establishments could prove to be the downfall of many
     people with a weakness for gambling. Not only an addicted gambler, but also almost
     anyone under the right circumstances, could be enticed to bet their entire house payment
     on a chance to win a large jackpot. And, like it or not, the odds are never in the
     gambler's