Here’s a shocking moment from my work-in-progress, VIVA ACAPULCO: Detective Emilia Cruz Book 9.
~
It was normal to sell homes without major appliances, Emilia thought blankly as her eyes swept the kitchen. A refrigerator belonged in that
space.
Not this. Madre de Dios, not this.
She was dimly aware of Kurt’s hand brushing her arm and Juan Meza sobbing in the next room. The atrocious,
eye-watering smell.
Mercedes and Silvio waited, motionless by the stainless steel sink, his arm circling the dancer protectively.
Emilia edged closer to the grisly
tableau.
Half hidden from view, a woman was seated in the refrigerator alcove. Duct tape bound her wrists to the wooden armchair.
Her head lolled against one
shoulder, as if sleepily calling attention to glossy ponytail, crystal drop earrings and the fist-sized hole in her temple. Torso and shoulders were slumped, but from knees to taupe high heels, her trousered legs pressed together primly.
Everything about the dead woman looked expensive. Slubbed cream silk pantsuit, perfectly
manicured nails and gold bangle bracelets pushed out of the way of the duct tape restraints.
The contents of a brown and beige designer handbag were strewn across the floor next to the chair. Cell phone. Gold lipstick. A small leather notebook. A blue lacquer pen, like the Mont Blanc that a business associate sent Kurt for
Christmas.
With his free hand, Silvio pointed at the alcove, as if Emilia might not have noticed the gout of blood on the wall or the rusty stain coursing down the tailored jacket with gold buttons.
It occurred to Emilia that the dead woman was about her age, with a similar athletic build.
“I know her,” Kurt said.
~
Catch up with the Detective Emilia Cruz series:
NARCO NOIR: Detective Emilia Cruz Book 8.
