A Gift for Murder

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

I spent more than an hour and a half with the police, going over exactly what I'd done that morning. I related it to one of the officers who was first on the scene and then repeated it for the benefit of the detective who took charge a little later.

The only thing I hesitated over was telling them about the maid in the hotel and what she'd said to me. I didn't want to get her in trouble. But it looked pretty likely that Tim Bethel had been murdered, so I had to give it up.

They hadn't officially identified the body in the trash bin as Tim Bethel. But what were the odds it wasn't?

Janelle waited for me when I emerged from the conference room where I'd been speaking with the detective. I'd pretty much gotten over the shakes by then, but the image of the wrist and ankle wouldn't go away. I was glad to see Janelle and welcomed the sympathy on her face.

"You okay?" she asked.

"I guess."

She looked at my face and frowned. "No, you're not. Of course you're not. Let's get a cup of coffee. Unless-do you want to go home?"

"No!" The word came out more sharply than I intended, betraying my state of nerves. "The last thing I want to do is sit around and think about about it."

"Good." Janelle made no attempt to conceal her relief. "We'll have our hands full. Word's already getting around. Damage control's sure to be a bitch. I'll find you some coffee while you hide out in my office for a few minutes."

I used the freight elevator so I wouldn't have to go through the show floor to the main ones. Tina looked up as I passed the reception desk and called my name, obviously eager to hear all the gossip, but I waved her off and continued down the hall to Janelle's office. I shut the door behind me and sank into one of her pair of upholstered armchairs.

My mind drifted, until the entry of Janelle roused me from uncomfortable musings about how the body had gotten into the trash bin.

"Got the good stuff," she said. "Triple V Designs has that big espresso maker running. I snagged us a couple of cappuccinos."

"You're a lifesaver."

She handed me one of the cups of steaming liquid. "You want some time alone to drink it?"

"No. Please, stay."

"Can't be long. I had to flip off a couple of people as it was."

"Understand. But I want to tell you about it."

Janelle took the chair opposite mine. I told her how we'd gone down to clean up the receiving area and Mark had found the body in the trash bin. I even told her how horrible it had been to see the man's wrist and ankle. And the blood. All the blood, soaked into the cardboard beneath the body.

"I'm so sorry you had to see that," Janelle said. "At least you didn't see his face. Stan Grantwood's gone to make a formal identification."

"Do they know what happened?"

She shrugged. "Cops aren't very communicative. But how likely is it he had an accident and just fell in?"

"Death by dumpster diving? Ohmigod, that's awful. I'm sorry. But you're right. It doesn't sound like an accident."

Janelle studied me for a moment. "I won't tell you not to think about it. You can't help it. But I'm wondering if maybe you should see someone."

"Shrink?"

"Therapist."

"No. I'll get over it. It's not the first time I've seen blood. I'll work it out." I drank the rest of the coffee and set the cup down on the table. I felt better. Had more energy, anyway. "I think I'm ready to get back to work. What are we telling people?"