The Note (Unsolved Mysteries Book 1), Kim Knight [love letters to the dead txt] 📗

Looking up into the sky, the heavens started to open.

Light drops of rain landed on her face.

“I guess that’s a sign from him upstairs. I’m forgiven?” She waved her arms around, then looked back at Tony’s picture.

“Whatever.” She pulled off her gardening gloves, then stuffed them in the canvas bag.

She tied a knot in the bag of weeds and gathered her gardening tools together.

Once on her feet, she loaded her arms up with the tools and bag of weeds, then glanced around to check who was there. No one was around.

The rain started to pour harder.

Manisha looked down at Tony’s grave. She hacked up a mouth full of phlegm and spat right on the gravestone image of Tony, then watched it ooze down a bit.

“Serves you right, you bastard.”

She lifted her nose to the sky, and in the rain, she stomped her way back to her car, never looking back.

9

Doubt Sets In

Detective Dunne

Later that afternoon, Dunne and McDonald left the interview room after Chelsea was released, then headed straight to his office. As Dunne entered, he noticed the red voicemail light on his phone flashed. He ignored it and slumped into his chair behind his desk.

McDonald sat opposite him.

He crossed one leg over the other at the knee and ran his palms over his thighs.

“I don’t know if I believe her,” McDonald said. “Really? An affair? C’mon.” He threw his hands up in the air and chuckled.

Dunne took a beat before he replied, he thought back to Chelsea’s body language, nervous leg shakes, nail biting, and the visible change in her persona, after she saw the video.

“Yep,” Dunne said. “Me neither.” He threw his feet up on his desk and reclined in his chair. “But we still have to take this note seriously.”

McDonald nodded toward the note that sat on Dunne’s desk. “Waste of time if you ask me.” He glanced down at the envelope on the desk. “Probably some kid messin’ around.”

“Even so, we got a job to do, Josh. You know it, and so do I.”

Dunne moved his attention over to the mugshots of suspects from other cases now pinned on the wall. His partner’s gaze followed.

“Okay.” He nodded in the direction of the mug shot again. “Maybe there’s more doubts connected to her now. She had an affair. We’ve got a wall full of people out there we need to focus on.”

“I hear ya, partner.”

Dunne sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, kicked his feet off the desk and leaned in toward his partner. He looked him square in the eye. “We can’t overlook this, Josh.”

He moved in closer. “Tony was on his death bed with cancer. She had every reason to persuade him to change that will in her favour.”

“Agreed,” McDonald nodded.

“He was a wealthy man, properties all over the place, here, in Spain, a couple of restaurants, and money in the bank.”

McDonald shifted his body, so he faced Dunne head on. “True. But would she really wanna take the risk of finishing him off—risk getting caught?”

The possibility lingered in the air.

The faint sound of footsteps moved swiftly outside Dunne’s office door—the secretaries were on the move.

“That’s the million-pound question.” McDonald paused in contemplation. “See, I’m a little sceptical about this note.” He paused again, uncrossed his legs and casually slumped back in his chair. “Yeah, sure she may have had a motive to get rid of him early, with the affair, but shit, c’mon, Dunne. That whole family had a damn motive.” He cocked an eyebrow in Dunne’s direction. “Think back. The wife wasn’t pleased at all.”

The phone rang, and Dunne ignored it, placing his hands in a prayer position across the desk.

“Yeah, I remember. Let me run Lance’s name through the system and see what comes up.”

Dunne unlocked the screen of his computer, then tapped away at his keyboard.

A light knock on the door caused him to pause.

“Yeah, come in,” Dunne called out.

“Hi, Detective. This just came for you in the lunch time mail.”

One of the team secretaries, Shelly, entered the room. “I think you should take a look at this. I opened it like the last one, carefully, even used gloves this time.”

Shelly dropped the brown envelope on Dunne’s desk, and the three of them looked down at the identical package to the one that arrived this morning.

“Thanks, Shelly.”

She glanced from one detective to the other. “No problem.”

Still rooted in her spot, Dunne noticed her shuffle from one foot to the other, as if she were nervous. She had garnered his full attention, and now, he took a moment to observe her closely. His gaze dropped from her face to her nervous tapping foot. The toe of one of her stiletto heels bounced off the concrete floor in a rushed tempo.

“Is there anything else we need to know, Shelly?” He asked.

“Oh, no. I, well, no, nothing really, I . . .”

Dunne glanced at his partner. McDonald’s brows met in the middle. He leaned his head to one side slightly, then moved his gaze over her with concern.

“You sure?” McDonald asked, just as concerned.

Shelly threw her hands up to her flushed cheeks. “No, nothing. I’m sorry. I just. It’s . . . I really hate things like this.” She pointed down at the envelope on Dunne’s desk. “Random notes it freaks me out. I’ve watched enough CSI and Unsolved Mysteries to know it’s never a good sign.”

McDonald chucked. “Shelly, don’t worry, we’ve got this, okay.”

Dunne smirked with amusement. “You might wanna stay away from those television shows. It’s all make believe. This gig works nothin’ like them. Trust me.”

Shelly laughed nervously. “Of course. I’ll see myself out.” She turned on her heels and headed for the door.

Once the door closed behind her, a seriousness fell across the room.

“Is this what I think it is?” McDonald pointed to the envelope.

Dunne remained mute. He pulled out a pair of gloves from his inside pocket, put them on, then slid out another note and a CD from the envelope.

“Damn.” Dunne chewed on