Love you to Death by Shannon K. Butcher Page B

“Just had a couple of people snooping around here, asking questions about the girl your brother was with Friday night. Smells like trouble. If you want to hear more, come to Sally’s. And bring plenty of cash.”
    He hung up the phone and it began to ring almost immediately.
    “Sally’s,” he answered.
    “Never leave a message like that for me again,” said the man on the line.
    Steve recognized his holier-than-thou tone in a heartbeat. Lawrence Maitland, the owner of one of the most well-respected funeral homes in the area. Word was he dabbled in more than just bodies, but Steve wasn’t stupid enough to repeat any of the gossip. He liked breathing too much.
    “Pick up your goddamn phone, then,” griped Steve. “You’re the one who asked me to keep an eye on your brother. Don’t go getting all pissy with me when I do what you asked.”
    “I offered to pay you. I expect you to behave in a professional manner.”
    “I called and told you within seconds of them leaving. That’s about as professional as you can get.”
    “Who was there?” asked Lawrence.
    “The girl’s sister and some guy. I’d bet money he’s a cop.”
    “What did they want?”
    “To see the security footage from Friday night.”
    “Gary was there?”
    “Yeah. He left here with a blond chick.” Gary liked blondes. Steve had never seen him with anyone else.
    There was a long silence on the end of the line before Lawrence came back on, issuing orders like he owned the place. “Destroy those tapes. Destroy any backups. If you have any receipts tying Gary to your establishment, destroy them as well. If this man was a cop, he’ll be back, and when he is, I don’t want there to be one scrap of evidence left for him to find.”
    “Whoa,” said Steve. “You’re not pulling me into this mess. I’m not destroying anything.”
    “How much?” asked Lawrence, his tone dripping with disdain.
    “Five grand. In cash. And I want it here tonight.”
    “Fine. I’ll have the delivery made before you close. But keep in mind that you’ll be asked to show proof you’ve already complied before payment is made.”
    “Yeah, yeah. I’ll kill the video. He paid in cash, so that’s not an issue.” Gary Maitland always paid in cash, as did all the other people here who didn’t want a spouse to track them down.
    “Good. At least he wasn’t that stupid.”
    “This is the second time he’s walked away from my bar with a girl who never showed up again. I have no idea what he’s doing with these broads, but it can’t be good.”
    “That is none of your affair. I expect you to keep your mouth prudently shut.”
    Steve did not dare let the words “or else what?” leave his lips. He bit down on the smart-ass reply until he thought he’d draw blood. “I will.”
    “See that you do. I’ll be watching.”
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C HAPTER S IX

    D etective Ed Woodward hated visits to the morgue. The chilly, sterile stench of the place never failed to turn his stomach.
    “Couldn’t this wait until morning?” he asked Dr. Foster.
    “Why? You got someplace better to be?”
    Dr. Foster looked younger than she was. She had to. There was no way they’d let a twenty-year-old perform autopsies. She didn’t even look old enough to have graduated college, much less med school.
    Her dark hair was tied back away from her face in a severe bun, and even though her eyes were devoid of makeup, she still had the longest, darkest eyelashes Ed had ever seen.
    “As a matter of fact, I do.”
    She looked up at him in jaded disbelief. “Hot date?”
    “Ball game on TV.”
    “Ah. TV. Haven’t watched it since I was a kid.”
    Ed bit back his reply that she still
was
a kid. “Just tell me what you’ve got, so I can get back to my worthless existence.”
    Dr. Foster pulled open a refrigerated drawer and extracted a tray like the one Ed had eaten lunch on today. She set it down on a stainless-steel table and carefully peeled back the white cloth