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Book: A Recipe for Disaster (Sarah Woods Mystery Book 16) by Jennifer L. Jennings
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Authors: Jennifer L. Jennings
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over the news of his daughter's death. I'd been fooled before. “Where have you been living since your release? You have a job?”
He backed up a step and glanced around apprehensively. “I see what you're trying to do, and I'm not falling for it. You'll have the cops track me down and arrest me for stealing cars. Better yet, they'll probably try and pin my daughter's murder on me, too. No thanks, I'd rather die than go back to prison.”
“Did you kill your daughter?” I said, just to see his reaction. Guilty people tend to get all defensive.
“I might be a criminal and a shitty dad,” he said, “but I'm not a monster.”
I decided to take this opportunity and ask a few questions. Cooperation is usually another indication of sincerity. “Did Claire mention anything about the money to you?”
He seemed genuinely confused. “What money?”
“We believe Claire was mixed up in a dangerous situation and it got her killed. Did she ever mention a guy by the name of Norton Cline? He's a financial advisor in town with a reputation of ripping off his clients.”
“Never heard of him. How is he involved in my daughter's death?”
I decided it was time to cease this conversation before I gave away too much. I probably already had.
“Look,” Mick said, taking a step toward me and lowering his voice. “I don't know what my daughter was into but, I'm telling you, she would never break the law unless someone forced her. She was a good kid.”
“Mick, if you refuse to speak with the cops about your daughter, could you at least give me your cell phone number where I can reach you?”
He paused to look at me with narrowed eyes. “The cops can trace me with the built in GPS. I wasn't born yesterday.”
“If you're so afraid of going back to jail, then why are you stealing cars?”
“Because I can't afford to buy my own. I haven't been able to find a job since I got out.” He looked away as if embarrassed. “Truth is, I can barely afford to buy myself lunch. The short term apartment they gave me is infested with rodents, too. I'd be better off living on the street taking handouts.”
“If you return the truck, they might not arrest you.”
He seemed to ponder that comment. Eventually, he reached into his pocket and produced a set of keys, then tossed them to me. I caught them in mid-air.
“The truck is parked out front. Maybe you can tell the owner not to the leave his keys in the ignition next time.”
“Wait, you're returning the vehicle?”
“Look, lady, I don't know who you are, but I'm pretty sure you're not a cop. Otherwise, you would have arrested me already. So, exactly how are you involved in my daughter's death?”
I reached into my purse for a business card and handed it to him.
He inspected it with raised eyebrows. “A private detective? I wouldn't have guessed that.”
Why does everyone seem surprised to find out I'm a private eye? “Call me if you can think of anything that might help us solve her murder.”
“You never told me how she was murdered.”
I tried to ignore his puppy dog eyes. “Sorry, I can't give you those details but, as her father, you have the right to go to the morgue to identify her body. Just be prepared to ask some questions when you do.”
At the sound of footsteps on tile, I looked to my left. A woman and a little boy were arguing. The boy began crying at the top of his lungs, clinging to his mother's leg. She grabbed his shirt, yanked him to his feet and scolded him while the boy made a big production of flailing his arms around, thus knocking over dozens of medicine bottles from the shelves.
When I turned back around, Mick had vanished.
Chapter 10
A fter I explained the situation on the phone, Detective James arrived at the pharmacy ten minutes later.
I handed him the keys to the blue pickup. “Mick Kendall doesn't strike me as the kind of man who would murder his own daughter. He did admit to picking her up at her house
He backed up a step and glanced around apprehensively. “I see what you're trying to do, and I'm not falling for it. You'll have the cops track me down and arrest me for stealing cars. Better yet, they'll probably try and pin my daughter's murder on me, too. No thanks, I'd rather die than go back to prison.”
“Did you kill your daughter?” I said, just to see his reaction. Guilty people tend to get all defensive.
“I might be a criminal and a shitty dad,” he said, “but I'm not a monster.”
I decided to take this opportunity and ask a few questions. Cooperation is usually another indication of sincerity. “Did Claire mention anything about the money to you?”
He seemed genuinely confused. “What money?”
“We believe Claire was mixed up in a dangerous situation and it got her killed. Did she ever mention a guy by the name of Norton Cline? He's a financial advisor in town with a reputation of ripping off his clients.”
“Never heard of him. How is he involved in my daughter's death?”
I decided it was time to cease this conversation before I gave away too much. I probably already had.
“Look,” Mick said, taking a step toward me and lowering his voice. “I don't know what my daughter was into but, I'm telling you, she would never break the law unless someone forced her. She was a good kid.”
“Mick, if you refuse to speak with the cops about your daughter, could you at least give me your cell phone number where I can reach you?”
He paused to look at me with narrowed eyes. “The cops can trace me with the built in GPS. I wasn't born yesterday.”
“If you're so afraid of going back to jail, then why are you stealing cars?”
“Because I can't afford to buy my own. I haven't been able to find a job since I got out.” He looked away as if embarrassed. “Truth is, I can barely afford to buy myself lunch. The short term apartment they gave me is infested with rodents, too. I'd be better off living on the street taking handouts.”
“If you return the truck, they might not arrest you.”
He seemed to ponder that comment. Eventually, he reached into his pocket and produced a set of keys, then tossed them to me. I caught them in mid-air.
“The truck is parked out front. Maybe you can tell the owner not to the leave his keys in the ignition next time.”
“Wait, you're returning the vehicle?”
“Look, lady, I don't know who you are, but I'm pretty sure you're not a cop. Otherwise, you would have arrested me already. So, exactly how are you involved in my daughter's death?”
I reached into my purse for a business card and handed it to him.
He inspected it with raised eyebrows. “A private detective? I wouldn't have guessed that.”
Why does everyone seem surprised to find out I'm a private eye? “Call me if you can think of anything that might help us solve her murder.”
“You never told me how she was murdered.”
I tried to ignore his puppy dog eyes. “Sorry, I can't give you those details but, as her father, you have the right to go to the morgue to identify her body. Just be prepared to ask some questions when you do.”
At the sound of footsteps on tile, I looked to my left. A woman and a little boy were arguing. The boy began crying at the top of his lungs, clinging to his mother's leg. She grabbed his shirt, yanked him to his feet and scolded him while the boy made a big production of flailing his arms around, thus knocking over dozens of medicine bottles from the shelves.
When I turned back around, Mick had vanished.
Chapter 10
A fter I explained the situation on the phone, Detective James arrived at the pharmacy ten minutes later.
I handed him the keys to the blue pickup. “Mick Kendall doesn't strike me as the kind of man who would murder his own daughter. He did admit to picking her up at her house
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