A.R. Winters - Valerie Inkerman 01 - Don't Be a Stranger Read Online Free PDF

that I don’t have friends. But he knows people and he knows that, um, I don’t – well, he keeps introducing me to his friends. Male and female.”
    I finished the little speech and felt pretty proud of myself.
    “Valerie,” said Detective Hartley softly, “You’ve only known the man for a very short time.”
    I sat up defensively. Two and a half months wasn’t a very long time, but I liked Jerry. Sure, he was a little annoying. And yes, he had a certain lack of brain cells. But he was a great cook, had a big heart, and was never too scared to kill a bug or two for me. The perfect roommate.
    “Have you ever felt unsafe?” Detective Hartley was asking. “Have you ever felt threatened by him?”
    “No! Of course not!”
    “Are you two – have you been in a relationship?”
    “No.” I wasn’t sure why Jerry had never seemed interested in me. Most likely, I wasn’t good-looking enough for him. But anyway, it’s not like that bothered me – he wasn’t my type, either. I preferred men who read more than just the TV Guide. Plus, it would’ve made for an awkward time apartment-sharing if he’d ever hit on me.
    Detective Hartley continued, “I understand you think of him as your friend. But is there anything you can tell us – any reason he might have had for killing Esme Lindl?”
    “He didn’t kill her,” I said automatically. “He couldn’t have.”
    Detective Hartley didn’t seem fazed by my reply. “Do you know if he owns any guns?”
    I looked at her, suddenly aware that the cops hadn’t found my tiny Smith &Wesson. It was registered, of course, so I wouldn’t have been in trouble. However, it could’ve kept the lieutenants busy for a few minutes.
    But then again, the lieutenants were men, and I kept the gun under a pile of tampon boxes, in a cardboard box aptly labelled “Tampons.”
    “Jerry doesn’t have a gun,” I said. “As far as I know, he can’t even shoot.”
    The detective pursed her lips and glanced around my room. “This is my card,” she said, handing me a piece of paper. “Give me a call if you think of anything. Although,” she added, “Once we find the murder weapon we won’t need anything else.”
    I stared at her card mutely.
    They wouldn’t find the murder weapon here. Or in Jerry’s car, which I was sure they’d search next. They had no idea what they were doing.
    We walked into the kitchen to find the lieutenants sitting around the table. 
    “We’ve finished searching,” one of them told Detective Hartley. “Nothing.”
    “We’ll try his car,” said Detective Hartley, as I’d known she would. “Let’s go.”
    The three of them stood up, and the two lieutenants ushered Jerry to the door. I watched him, worried. “Should I call anyone?” I asked him. “Let anyone know?”
    “Nah, don’t stress about it. I’ll get hold of my lawyer and he’ll bail me out.”
    “You have a lawyer?”
    I stared at him in surprise. That was something I didn’t know about him. Maybe he had a few other secrets.
    “Don’t worry,” said Jerry as he stepped out the door. “I’ll be back home tomorrow.”
    I nodded silently, but of course he couldn’t see me. In a few seconds, they were gone.
    Detective Hartley pulled the door shut behind her, and I stood in the empty apartment and looked around. Plates had been taken down from the kitchen cabinets, and the drawers were wide open. The sofa cushions were on the floor, stripped of their covers. Even the cheap red and black rug near the TV had been moved, exposing the ugly, dark stain that it was used to hide – the stain wasn’t from anything too disgusting; it was just a reminder of an accident involving a jar of pasta sauce and a glass of white wine that hindered instead of helped. But still, it wasn’t something I liked to expose.
    I sighed and decided to start with the kitchen. There was a lot of work to do – and when Jerry came back from the precinct tomorrow, I’d have a lot more questions for him. It