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CHAPTER TWENTY
Karen Rogers hobbled into the condominium building, grateful her knees were still strong enough to walk her to the grocery store and back. It was getting into the evening, but she’d been craving a very specific type of chocolate, and at seventy-eight years old, she wasn’t in the business of wasting time not doing what she wanted. It was a little late to start restricting herself!
But she was tired from the walk, and as she made her way to her apartment, she was looking forward to relaxing on her couch with her cat, Peaches. Old age wasn’t all that bad, she thought. Not as bad as they’d made it out to be when she was younger.
Karen pushed open her door and was greeted with a warm, inviting atmosphere. Her apartment, though small, had become a cozy home over the years. The walls were painted in a deep yellow hue and hung with various art pieces she’d collected from different places she’d visited. She smiled to herself as she saw Peaches perched atop the armchair, lazily cleaning her fur.
“Hello there,” Karen said softly as she walked over to her cat. Peaches looked up at her and meowed in response before leaping off the chair and winding around Karen’s legs affectionately. Karen laughed and bent down to pick up the furry bundle of joy, cradling her close as they made their way over to the couch.
Karen settled into the cushions with Peaches on her lap, stroking the soft fur while they both enjoyed the peace and quiet of being home together. As Karen closed her eyes for a moment, letting out a contented sigh, she thought about how lucky she was that even at this age she still had moments like this—moments of pure comfort and joy with her beloved pet by her side.
Suddenly, Karen felt something cold on her head. She jolted, looking up to see a patch on her ceiling.
Water was leaking down from the condo above.
What on earth…?
Karen put Peaches down and got up from the couch, taking a closer look at the ceiling. The patch of water had grown larger while she was sitting there, and it seemed to be coming from the second floor. She would have to investigate further. Karen wouldn’t let this night be ruined. Who knew how many she had left?
Karen marched out the door, determined to find out what was going on upstairs. She took the elevator to the second floor, and the moment it opened up, she heard what sounded like water.
With her nerves rising, Karen walked toward the sound. She stopped at the apartment above hers. She knew the man who lived here—Mason Monroe, a nice young man in his thirties. She hoped everything was okay.
But as Karen reached the door, she felt coolness on her feet, and looked down to see water pouring out from the bottom of Mason’s door. The sound of rushing water came from inside, and Karen began to panic. She was too old to deal with this herself, but her worry for Mason overcame that. He reminded her of her grandson, Benjamin, who was such a nice young man as well.
“Mason?” Karen called out. “Are you in there, dear? Mason?”
No reply.
Karen’s fear grew, and she knew she had to try the door. She turned the knob—and it opened with ease. Not locked…
The sight before her was devastating. Mason’s apartment was completely flooded, with water pouring out and pooling on the hall floor. Karen searched for the source of the water, then saw the bathroom door half-open. She quickly stepped inside to find that the bathtub had overflowed and was still gushing out gallons of water onto the floor.
But that wasn’t all.
The bathtub…
It wasn’t empty.
Mason was lying in it, face-down. Karen’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding as she tried to process what had happened.
Somehow, Mason had died.
Karen was still processing it when something bumped against her foot.
She looked down to see a greeting card floating in the water on the bathroom floor.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
As Fiona tossed the garbage left over from her dinner in the penthouse suite’s bin, she couldn’t help but feel like they were at a dead end with this case. Jake was already sitting at the couch and going through the list of names, because really, there wasn’t much else they could do at the moment.
Fiona was learning that much of the job was brain work, and she was grateful for the sandwich; it had lifted her spirits and given her the energy she needed to keep at this. Maybe there was something she’d missed, some sort of connection between the two victims—something that could warn them of who the third might be.
Fiona sighed, and Jake looked up from the list. “Hey,” he said softly, patting the couch cushion beside him. “Come here. We can brainstorm together.”
Fiona made her way over to the couch and sat beside Jake.She wished they could brainstorm, but she wasn’t sure where to go from here.
“Any luck with the list?” she asked him.
