Chasing Tinsel (Miranda Vaughn Mysteries) Read Online Free PDF Page B

have been the other elf, Jaden, zipped off again, not noticing me in the shadows of the parking structure.  
    The garage was quiet again and I glanced around uneasily in the tomb-like silence.  
    “Miranda.”
    The sound of my name echoed around me and made me jump about a foot off the ground. I turned and saw Murph walking toward me.  
    “Oh, hey there, Murph. You startled me,” I said, my hand at my throat and my heart beating madly, fear taking over the keen sense of disappointment I’d been wallowing in.
    “What are you doing out here alone? You should have had Pete or one of the other security boys walk you out,” he said as he reached my side.  
    “I’m okay. I’m not parked too far from here,” I said, looking around and still not seeing the Golf Ball.  
    “Well, I’ll make sure you get there safely,” Murph said, walking with me. “This isn’t a great neighborhood, you know.”  
    I nodded. “I know. I grew up around here. Still live here, actually.”  
    “Oh yeah? Well, you should know better than to venture out here alone at night then,” he scolded me gently.  
    “Thanks for the escort,” I said, finally spying my car in the corner of the garage.  
    “I grew up in a bad neighborhood, too, and you just don’t let a lady walk through there at night,” he said.  
    “Where did you grow up?”  
    He paused and then waved a in a vaguely eastern direction. “On the East Coast. New Jersey.”  
    “You’re a long way from home, Murph. What made you stay in California?”  
    “Oh, I just liked it here. The weather’s nice,” he said with another vague wave of his hand. “That your little car?”  
    I unlocked the door, and Murph started to walk away, but I called to him.  
    “Hey, I think you may have missed the last bus. Can I give you a ride?”  
    He paused, looked at his watch, and then frowned. “You may be right, but don’t worry about me. Like I said, I grew up in a tough town. I’ll be fine.”  
    “No way, Murph. It’s no problem for me to give you a ride home. Come on.”  
    I threw my purse in the back and stood next to the car until he smiled and nodded. “Okay, and thank you. It was a long day, and it will be nice not to have to walk all the way home.”  
    Murph looked like he was having second thoughts as I unfastened the bungee cord that ensured the passenger side door wouldn’t unlatch but gamely climbed into the car. He gave me directions as we drove out of the parking garage, and we were soon driving deep into one of the city’s worst neighborhoods.  
    “You can let me off here on the corner,” Murph said.  
    I peered out into the dark at the corner liquor mart and outdoor drug bazaar, both of which appeared to stay open late for the residents’ convenience. “Um, no, I’d rather drop you closer to your door.”  
    He chuckled. “I know it looks bad, but once you get to know people, it’s not as scary.”  
    I doubted that but didn’t argue with him. “Where to, Murph?”  
    “A couple of blocks up, then turn right. I’ve got a room at The Senator .”  
    I blanched at the name of the single-room-occupancy hotel. Part halfway house and part drug den, The Senator was far too lofty a name for that old pile of bricks. It should have been called The Parolee or The Itinerant Worker .  
    I recognized the four-story building from its many appearances on the evening news’ nightly murder report, and I pulled the Golf Ball up to the curb in front of it. Once I dropped off the seventy-year-old, part-time Santa who had no family on this side of the country, I’d be heading to my Aunt Marie’s cookie-scented house, to my cozy apartment above her garage, with my too-large Christmas tree and ornaments that dated back to my childhood. And Murph would be walking up to his apartment, probably stepping over bodies, to get to a tiny studio with a bare light bulb illuminating a grim and dirty room. At least, that was how I imagined it.  
    Murph