Carolyn Arnold - McKinley 01 - The Day Job is Murder Read Online Free PDF Page A

the blank stare of death and his face was shocked, more than relaxed. It wasn’t his time to die.
    “I can tell by that look that you’re onto something. What is it?” Sara asked.
    “Okay, see him in this picture.” As he angled the photo for her to see better, their arms brushed and it sent his heart into a thumping fit. Instinctively, his eyes went to hers. Big mistake. He had to breathe. Focus.
    A few seconds later, composed, he shared his observation. “All right, we’re used to seeing people’s eyes like this, but look at his facial expression.”
    She glanced at the photo for a second. “He didn’t see this coming.”
    “Yeah, exactly what I thought. He found the fact he was going to die hard to accept, if not impossible. He was confused.”
    “So he didn’t know his killer.”
    He shook his head, a negative movement, but in this case, confirmation. “I don’t think he did.”
    “I’d even say he looks perplexed.”
    “We think alike.” He dared to glance at her again and she smiled.
    “All right, so what do we know about this guy?”
    “Our killer or our victim?”
    She batted Sean’s arm. “Our victim.”
    “Hey, fair question. Well, our victim hijacked his neighbor’s cable.”
    “That lead has been exhausted. Next.”
    “He was single, didn’t smoke, and he wasn’t involved with drugs. He held a decent full-time job.”
    “Then why steal the cable?”
    “Good question.”
    “I’m afraid the only one who would know the answer to that is in the city morgue right now.”
    “I have a feeling you’re right.”
    Sean stepped through to the great room. Crime Scene had been over everything. They had collected all the evidence in relation to the stolen cable and had even taken in Cunningham’s laptop.
    Sara took a few steps toward Sean. “If we think his killer was a stranger to him then—”
    “It opens up a lot of possibilities. All right. So the guy never saw it coming. Here he is just having a nice evening, watching his stolen pay-per-view and there’s a knock at his door.”
    “Or maybe they rang the doorbell.”
    He smiled. “Yes, they could have. Anyway, Cunningham gets up to answer and is met with a bullet for his troubles.”
    “You’re forgetting one thing. There were muddy boot prints on the runner. They were facing inside the house and forensics haven’t been able to match the tread to any footwear belonging to Cunningham.”
    “Sometimes, I wish I was Sherlock Holmes,” he said.
    “You are, Sean, and I’m your handy sidekick.”
    “Was Watson a sidekick per se? Anyway, you are more than a sidekick.”
    Again, the words slipped without thought. The fact they were only friends always had a way of stamping conversation. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could continue like this.
    Seconds passed in a tangible silence. He should have been thinking about the murder, but he reviewed the what-ifs of their relationship.
    What if things were different? What if they weren’t partners? What if they knew each other under different circumstances? What if they met at a different point in their lives?
    Even though he sensed she was considering the same things, he had to shake the thoughts. Cunningham deserved his attention.
    “When investigators showed up where was the furniture positioned?”
    Sara pulled some more photos from the file and extended the appropriate one.
    He compared it to what was before them now.
    There was one couch and two loveseats. A large screen television was straight across from the french doors with a square coffee table positioned in front.
    He kept his eyes on the layout as he spoke.  “It doesn’t match. Look. In the photo, the loveseat is positioned in front of the window. Now, it’s—”
    “Over there.” She nodded to the left.
    “Yeah, kind of what I was thinking. It would be very easy to move furniture around in here to suit whatever purpose Cunningham had.”
    “Okay, well, it was close to the television area. It was probably moved