A Murder In Passing Read Online Free PDF

scene, Nakayla and I had been advised by one of the Greenville deputies not to give any details to the press, but no one had specifically mentioned the bullet. I suspected the decision to leave the nature of the investigation vague had been made at a higher level than Deputy Overcash and his counterparts from South Carolina. ID the remains first and then look for suspects and motives before the public, and thereby the guilty, realizes the case is a full-blown murder case. That’s the way I’d have played it.
    A single rap sounded on my door. I clicked out of the article. “Be right there.”
    â€œKeep your seat.” The door swung open and Hewitt Donaldson entered. He held his ever-present mug of coffee in one hand and a curled newspaper in the other. “I just came to bask in the glow of the best detective in the friggin’ galaxy.”
    Hewitt was Asheville’s top defense attorney and his offices were next door. In his sixties and a product of the Sixties, the former hippie-turned-Perry Mason relished any case that went up against the system. He’d championed so many underdogs he could have started a kennel club.
    â€œYou’re the one to talk about glow. You’re hurting my eyes.”
    Hewitt’s orange and red flowered Hawaiian shirt looked like it was powered by a nuclear generator. I was surprised he wasn’t followed by a swarm of honeybees.
    â€œYou can borrow it. I hear mushrooms grow in the dark. With this shirt, none of them will be safe from your amazing detecting skills.”
    â€œCan it, Hewitt. If you must know, I tripped and found the skeleton by accident.”
    He looked at his newspaper. “So, the story’s correct? I thought surely the mushroom gig was a cover to get you on the property.”
    â€œNope. The galaxy’s greatest detective is also the galaxy’s greatest klutz.”
    â€œThat’s much more believable.” He took a sip of coffee, clearly relieved the world order had been re-established. “Still, your fungi knowledge could come in handy. I have this case of athlete’s foot needs investigating.”
    â€œAs often as your foot lands in your mouth, it’s probably spread to your tongue.”
    Hewitt laughed, and I knew for once I got the best of him.
    A knock sounded, not from my door but the one to the hall. Hewitt turned around and stepped to the side. I saw the door open slowly, and a pretty African-American woman stepped inside. She stopped at the sight of Hewitt. Maybe she thought she was interrupting a luau.
    â€œMr. Blackman?” She spoke my name like an affirmative answer would be her worst nightmare.
    I expected Hewitt to make some sarcastic remark at my expense, but he either respected we had a possible client or sensed the woman’s timidity.
    I stood. “I’m Sam Blackman. Please come in.”
    The woman hesitated, and then Nakayla appeared in her doorway.
    â€œMs. Montgomery?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI’m Nakayla Robertson. We spoke on the phone.”
    The woman smiled. She appeared to be at least fifteen or twenty years older than Nakayla. Probably around forty-five. Her skin was a shade lighter and she wore her hair cropped closer to her head. She was taller, and as she walked forward, she carried herself with an ease of movement that reminded me of a dancer. She wore a smartly tailored, dark blue business suit that identified her as someone who took pride in a professional appearance.
    She and Nakayla shook hands.
    Hewitt stepped forward. “I’m Hewitt Donaldson. I was just leaving.”
    The woman’s eyes widened. “You’re the lawyer?”
    â€œI’m a lawyer. And my office is right next door.” He left, closing the door behind him.
    Nakayla gestured for Marsha Montgomery to take a seat. “Would you like coffee or some water?”
    â€œNo, thank you.” She crossed the room and chose the leather chair on the right.
    I