I knew he was a cop or someone close to being a cop as soon as he walked into the room. He had that air about him. Of course, I had a slight advantage in my methods. There was a dead body lying in the middle of the room.
The poor schmuck had been shot twice. Once through the heart and once in the groin. It was messy as deaths went. The pool of blood covered the floor in the living room, where it had seeped into the Oriental rug and on the wood floor surrounding the phone.
The man spoke up, and his voice was downtown in tone, not the refined air of a homicide dick. I wasn't sure how to place him when he explained, "The name's Malone. I'm a private detective. I was doing a job for Mr. Sears."
Sears was the man on the floor. I was no fan of his. He'd been blackmailing me. I'd done some stupid things when I was young, drugs, wild times with married men, petty pickpocketing and the like. Now I was getting married to a respectable guy in a few weeks, and Sears had hit me up for cash - lots of it. I'd come here to pay him off.
If I'd been alone with Sears' body, I would have been in big trouble, but that wasn't the case. Two other people had been here when I arrived. The woman was a knock-out. She was 35-ish, but had a fantastic figure and a face that could have looked younger, if she hadn't been so well-known to the press. She was Jasmine du Ford, a former model who was rumored to have her own reality show coming up. I'd been shocked to see her standing in front of Sears' door, but given what the man did for a living, I shouldn't have been shocked.
The other man was Alex Varnham. I only knew that because he'd introduced himself, after I'd followed him up the stairs to the apartment. He was a little man, who looked defeated by life. Abandon all hope, ye who know Tim Sears, I thought.
Malone was another matter. He was tall, blond, and thin. He wore a pair of dark-rimmed glasses that didn't let me get to see his eyes clearly, but I could tell they were a crystal blue. He was wearing a polo shirt and a pair of jeans, but even so, there was something official, almost militaristic about him.
He looked around the room and leaned out the open window. The cheap apartment was on the fifth floor, and Sears had a view of an alley. The window looked difficult to push up or down and the sill had a gash out of it.
"Which of you found him?" he asked, looking around the room. I'd thought about encouraging the other suspects to rush him, but that wouldn't work for du Ford, since her face was known everywhere. So I stuck it out.
"I did," du Ford responded. "I mean, I was the first one in the apartment. We all arrived about the same time."
I nodded, having no real desire to help this guy out. I had to watch out for me and my best interests.
Malone latched the door, making an escape that much slower. Presumably he'd have time to catch any of us if we tried to skip out. He did a quick search of the room, which didn't turn up much. I doubted that Sears actually lived here. The living room had a sofa and coffee table. No knick-knacks or pictures on the wall. The search only took a few seconds to complete.
Malone looked up as he finished his search. Those eyes seemed to look right through me. "Nothing here, so that leave you three."
"For what?" stammered the little man.
Malone sighed. "Don't be dense. Sears was shot, so I'm looking for a gun. The killer, if he was one of you, didn't make it very far before other people showed up. So I want to search all three of you before I do anything else."
"Why not call the police?" Du Ford asked. "Let them sort it out."
He shook his head. "Like I said, I was working for Sears, so I want to know who did what before I call them. My reputation is at stake here."
Malone walked over to Varnham. "Hold your hands up."
Varnham held them up like he was being robbed. Malone did a quick, but very thorough pat-down on the man. "Nothing here."
"I could have told you that," he said. "I would never kill anyone."
I could believe that, but I also knew that the quiet ones always ran deep. Next, Malone made Varnham empty his pockets. The man had some string, a dollar or two, some change and a bus card. Not much there to pay off a blackmailer, I thought. He might take the rap for this one.
Malone took out his phone and snapped a few photos of the contents of the pockets. He wrote the man's name and address on a piece of paper along with the date and time, and added that to the contents.
Varnham started to say something, but Malone shooed him off. "Go, I've got an address for you. If the police need you, I'll have them call you."
The little man scuttled out the door before Malone could say another word.
"Aren't you afraid that he'll deny being at a crime scene?" I asked, feeling like Varnham had just been given a get out of jail free card.
Malone shook his head. "Not with this evidence. Besides I have an ace up my sleeve," but he didn't elaborate on what he meant by that. "I need to frisk you two now," he said, blushing slightly, but showing signs of obvious eagerness.
Jasmine spoke up. "I'll do what you did for the other lady, and then she could do the same for me. You'll have your evidence and the proof that there's no gun on either one of us."
Malone shook his head. "What if you two are in cahoots? You could lie about each other, and the blame would fall on Varnham."
Jasmine du Ford smiled. "I'd not thought of that," she said in what was a lie. There was a sparkle in her eye that told otherwise. "I'll help this young lady undress, and then she can help me. That allows us a bit of modesty, and you can see that we're not armed. Does that work?"
Malone probably would have agreed to about anything, the way he looked at her. I'd never seen pure lust up close like that. I'm not bad-looking, and I've had more than my share of offers, but nothing like the animal look Malone had now. I suspected that du Ford had wanted this reaction.
She removed her blouse, unbuttoning each button slowly, and then dropping the fabric off her shoulders. It landed on the floor with a mere flutter, but all three of us heard it. She made a motion to me, and I pulled my t-shirt over my head.
Malone looked at me with surprise. Perhaps the loose-fitting shirt had not allowed his imagination to think of the body underneath it. I had to stay in shape for my work, and I had a small waist with peach-sized breasts. Now I got some of the lust he'd only spent on her before.
"Oh god, is this really going to happen?" he asked, looking from one of us to the other.