High Risk by G.K. Parks (books for 10th graders TXT) 📕

sure everything was correct, and tucked it into his breast pocket. “All right. Let’s see what we find.”

We returned to Gardner’s apartment. Officer Roberts bumped the lock for us, and we pushed open the front door. Sunlight filtered in through the partially opened blinds. The living room looked as you’d expect a bachelor pad to look. Oversized leather couch, big screen TV, a pile of old pizza boxes and empty beer cans on the coffee table, and a video game system, headset, and a pile of games beside one of the two black gaming chairs that sat on the floor in front of the coffee table.

“Damn,” Fennel rubbed his mouth, “it looks like my place.”

“You’re neater than this,” I said.

He gave me a sideways look. “I pick up before you come over.”

“Bullshit. You’re a neat freak. Everything on your desk is organized in some weird system I still don’t understand. Living like this would make you crazy.” I headed for the kitchenette. A stack of unopened mail sat on one of the stools at the counter. Water bill, electric bill, credit card application, an advertisement for a new Chinese restaurant, a coupon for a free carwash, and a letter addressed to Richard Golden.

Frowning, I checked the address to see if our victim had gotten his neighbor’s mail. But the address matched. “Brad, check the bedroom. I don’t think we’re alone.”

Six

I cleared the rest of the apartment, checking everything, including the closets before following Fennel into the master bedroom. Crusty brownish-red streaks ran down the man’s yellow t-shirt. He remained prone on the bed, his eyes closed.

“Mr. Golden?” I kicked the corner of the mattress, but he didn’t stir. “Do you think that’s blood?”

Fennel sidestepped around a pile of clothes, glanced into the attached bathroom to make sure the assailant wasn’t hiding, and then approached the body on the bed. He reached out with a gloved hand to check for a pulse.

The man screamed, startling us. “Who the hell are you?” He scooted across the mattress and fell off the other side of the bed. Scrambling up, he grabbed a tennis racket and held it in both hands directly in front of his body. He looked like he was about to play Wimbledon.

“Whoa,” Fennel held up one palm while he reached for his badge with the other, “take it easy. We thought you were dead.”

“What?” Golden yelled.

“Sir, please. We’re the police.”

“What?” Golden cocked his head to the side, finally noticing the badge in my partner’s left hand. Shifting the tennis racket to one hand, he tugged an earbud out of his left ear.

“We thought you were dead,” I repeated, hearing an unrecognizable rock song coming from the displaced wireless earbud.

“Why would you think that?” he asked. “Did Johnny put you up to this? Is this some kind of prank?” He pointed the end of the tennis racket at Fennel’s badge. “Is that even real?”

Fennel’s hand shook for a moment before he hooked his badge to the side of his belt and made a fist. “It’s real.”

“Mr. Golden?” I asked.

He glanced at me, still unsure about my partner who hadn’t moved from the bedside. “Who wants to know?” He edged backward toward the bathroom door, and I wondered if he planned to lock himself inside. Or maybe he needed to change his pants.

“I’m Detective Liv DeMarco. That’s Brad Fennel. We knocked earlier. Didn’t you hear us?” We should have knocked again before we entered.

His gaze shifted from my partner to me. “No.” He gave us an odd look. “If Johnny didn’t send you, what are you doing in my apartment?”

“Your apartment?” Fennel let out an exhale. “The lease is in Jonathan Gardner’s name.”

Golden tucked the racket back beneath the bed and rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, so? I live here too. Is that a problem?”

“No, sir,” I said.

He nodded, unsure of what was happening. “So I’ll ask you one more time. What are you doing inside my apartment besides scaring the shit out of me?”

Fennel opened his mouth, but I beat him to the punch. “Mr. Golden, maybe you should sit down.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “You got five seconds, lady. Make this good.”

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but your roommate’s dead.”

He snickered. “Uh-huh. Sure.” He scratched his left eyebrow. “Let me guess. You two work with him at Moonlight, and he thought it’d be fun to send you over here to scare me. But I’m not an idiot. Cops can’t just bust into someone’s home.”

“We didn’t.” Fennel removed the court order from his jacket. “We have a search warrant. We knocked, like Liv said, but you didn’t answer.”

Golden took the offered paperwork, the grin still plastered on his face. But as he read the details, the joy left his eyes. His lips drooped, and he stumbled backward, catching himself on the dresser. He held on to the paper but leaned heavily against the waist-high piece of furniture. Without it, he’d be on the floor.

“My condolences,” Fennel said.

“How did it happen? When?” Golden looked up from the paperwork. “I just saw him a few hours ago.”

“What time?” I asked.

Golden looked at the clock. “Shit. That was last night. I… oh god. I got home from work. And we played video games until he had to leave. That was 8:30. Somewhere around there.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “God, that was just last night. It doesn’t feel like it. I…”

“Where were you?” Fennel asked.

“Right here. Well, there.” Golden jerked his chin toward the living room. “I got caught up in a game. I didn’t go to bed until the sun came up.”

“Can anyone verify your whereabouts?” Fennel asked. Until now, I hadn’t thought of Golden as a suspect, but everyone was a potential person of interest at