Page 17 of Southernmost Murder
“Skelly?”
“He was just hanging there like a sad, empty piñata.”
“Certainly leaves a lot of unanswered questions,” Jun stated, flashing the light here and there, as if hoping to find something in the tiny little nook.
“Adam thought maybe the person was murdered. Because why else would you hide someone? And Sebastian kinda thought the same thing—Skelly was clearly hidden with no intention of being found.”
“Sebastian Snow?”
“Yeah.”
Jun nodded. “Don’t drag him into this.”
“I’m not. Just mentioned it in passing.”
“That seems to be about all he needs as an excuse to get involved.”
“I’m pretty sure even Seb won’t fly down to the Keys to sleuth around for a lost skeleton—crazy as he may be.”
“Let’s keep it that way. I’ve no interest in making a call to—Winter, was it?—to come fetch his wayward assistant.”
Jun knew of Sebastian because his beau, homicide detective Calvin Winter, had been the one asking for FBI intel on a cold case. I didn’t think Jun had an issue with either of them, but you know… federal agent versus a metro detective. It was always a whose-dick-is-bigger contest.
Jun leaned into the false wall, shining his flashlight again. “Found your phone.”
“What?” I got close and looked inside as Jun reached for it. “How’d the fuck it get in there?”
He handed it over.
I swiped, unlocked the phone, and yeah—four missed calls and half a dozen texts from Jun. I winced and pretended I didn’t see them. “Seems okay,” I said at length.
I peered back at the wall. The tight spot didn’t seem big enough to cram a human into, which said something about how desperate the person who hid the body had been. There was nothing left now but a shitload of dust, which made me sneeze a few times.
“You’ve got the cutest sneeze,” Jun murmured.
“Shut it, mister.” I was about to step back, but then something caught my attention. “Jun, shine the light down there.”
Jun put the phone’s light back on the wall, pointing it down at the bottom of the nook. “Are those words?”
I leaned down as much as I could, blowing dust out of the way. “AnXon my… heart,” I read.
“What’s that mean?” Jun asked.
I shook my head, turning to stare at him. “I have no idea.”
Chapter Four
PATSY CLINEputs me to sleep.
I like her voice, but every time I hear any of her songs, insta-nap.
I leaned over and hit the radio button, trying another preprogrammed station in Jun’s rental car. Hello, Rihanna, my gorgeous queen. “S&M.” Sex was in the air. Good song, that one.
Jun glanced at me.
“Patsy is like warm milk at bedtime,” I protested.
“It was better than this. This song is awful.”
