“Hey, Boss?” a policeman called from the hallway, and both of us turned to him. “We also found some unsigned divorce papers.”
Peterson glanced over at me. “Were you aware he was getting divorced?”
I shook my head, gasping in shock. “I had no idea!”
“He never mentioned a wife?”
“Not once! He only talked about Karen and introduced me to her once. Never did he mention a wife.”
“Do you think Karen knew he was married?”
“I don't know. Like I said, I only met her once.”
More racket came from the hallway, and Ringo jumped from my lap and ran into the bedroom. No wonder he and Charles got along so well—neither of them liked loud noises.
Three men wheeled out a gurney that I hadn't noticed come in. And just like that, Charles was gone. Tears welled once again and I couldn't believe I'd found myself in such a situation.
Detective Peterson smiled again and fished out a business card from his coat pocket. “Please give me a call if you think of anything that can help us solve this murder.”
As he shut the door behind him, I stared at the card. Murder. My neighbor had been murdered.
For the first time since finding Charles, I suddenly felt very afraid. I glanced around the apartment as voices filtered in from the hallway. How long would the police be going through his things? Had Charles been killed while I was at home, dancing around to the Beatles and doing my laundry? Or had he been dead for some time? If I had gone over earlier, could I have also been a victim, or perhaps even stopped the killing?
Suddenly feeling very sick to my stomach, I hurried to the bathroom and splashed cool water on my face.
As I stared at my puffy eyes in the mirror, I couldn't help but wonder... was I safe in my own apartment?
Chapter 3
Before I entered the airport, I took out my Mary Quant compact and studied my reflection once again, grimacing at my puffy eyes. Honestly, it was expected. After the police had left, I’d cried more from both fear and losing a friend. Sleep hadn't come easily and I’d woken at every sound, convinced someone had come to shove a knife in my stomach. I'd never been so happy to see the first slice of daylight through the curtains, even if it revealed a cold, wet day.
“You can do this,” I whispered to my tired eyes, then shoved the compact back into my bag and smiled.
As I made my way through the airport, I grinned and nodded at those who stared at me. The first time it had happened, I'd found it quite disconcerting. The looks ranged from outright hatred to lust. Thankfully, a senior stew had explained it to me. The men who ogled us wanted to bed us. The women who glared either hated us because they were afraid we'd steal their husbands, or they secretly wished they could have our carefree lives. Once I understood, I had quickly become used to it and now just accepted it as part of the job.
“Patty!”
Turning around at the sound of my name, I found Captain Dorchester jogging to catch up to me. A nice man with a lovely wife, he was one of the few who didn't get touchy-feely with the stews. When I’d first met him, I’d dubbed him Doe-Eyed Dorchester because he had the kindest, warmest brown gaze I’d ever seen.
“Captain Dorchester!” I said as he approached. “What a lovely surprise!”
“I haven't seen you in a while,” he said as we continued our walk to the airline personnel staging area. “We haven't been on any flights together recently.”
“That's true. Where are you off to today?”
“Seattle, then on to Chicago. What about you?”
“New Mexico to Dallas with a layover and back here tonight.”
“Busy day for you.”
“Yes.”
“I haven't seen Donna around for a while either. How's she?”
Everyone knew we lived together. “She's fine. Honestly, I haven't seen much of her either. Our schedules have been off.”
Tears pricked my eyes as I thought of Ringo being left home alone. I hadn't known how to write Donna a note stating that Charles had been murdered, so I'd simply jotted that he was unavailable and hoped I'd catch her to explain before she saw it on the news. Since Donna hated watching anything but Hogan's Heroes (she had a mad crush on Bob Crane) or the Ed Sullivan show, I had faith I could get to her before she saw anything official about it. Besides, I'd lived through the night knowing about the murder, and I didn't want to do that to her. It had been terrifying.
We hurried through the door off-limits to the general public and down the concrete stairs. When we arrived at our airline's staging area, we were met with a flurry of activity.
“I'll see you later, Patty,” the captain said, flashing me a grin. “Hopefully we'll get to fly together soon!”
I waved as we parted, him going over to the captain area while I strode to where the stews had been lined up. After dropping my case, I fell in line next to a woman named Beth. Busty Beth. We exchanged hellos and waited for the head stew, Linda, to make her way down the line as she inspected each of us.
“Geraldine, your eyeliner is a little off on your right top lid. Please fix it. Victoria, you definitely need a trim. I can see your split ends from here. Judy, I can tell you've lost weight. Nice job.” The critiques and accolades continued as the head stew gave us the once over.
“Beth, honey, you need to get on a diet.” I glanced over at the woman next to me. She didn't look heavy to me, but I didn't have Linda’s critical eye. “Your buttons are about to burst.”
In order to get the job, stews had to be pretty, between five-foot-two and five-foot-nine and weigh no more than
