Riptide (Sam McRae Mystery 3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

It was just past 10:30 when I marched up the steps of the blue and gray building in West Ocean City, strode the walkway to Unit #204 and rapped on the door.

No answer. I rang the bell and waited. Nothing.

I pounded on the door. Hard.

I could sense her presence on the other side. Waiting.

I rang the bell again. Over and over. And over.

“Go away!” A muffled voice sounded from inside.

“Avon calling!” I said.

“I’ll call the cops.”

“Oh, good. We can both talk to them about Greener Way Consultants and Billy Ray. Won’t that be fun?”

Silence. The door opened a crack, which widened to reveal Karla. She was dressed in a purple tank top, frayed cutoffs and flip flops.

Well, this is interesting, but I don’t have all day.

“Karla, you forged documents, didn’t you—?”

“Wait, wait! Come in. Come in.”

Suddenly, Karla had become my best buddy. She couldn’t drag me into her condo fast enough. She certainly wasn’t slamming the door in my face this time.

“Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Water?” Karla hovered near me.

“No, thanks. This won’t take long.”

I settled onto the sofa and Karla perched on the other end, hands twisting in her lap.

“Karla, what if I told you the EPA is helping to investigate Curtis Little’s murder? And they’re searching his trailer right about now? And what if I told you I found false compliance documents for poultry producers that Bower Farms did business with? And that those documents were prepared by your company—Greener Way Consultants—and had your signature on them?

“And what if I also told you I found them in Curtis Little’s trailer? Would that suggest a possible motive for his murder do you think?”

Karla’s face turned chalk white. “No! I didn’t. I swear. It wasn’t me.”

“Did Curtis try to blackmail you?”

Tears leaked from Karla’s eyes. She nodded.

I moved down the sofa and sat next to Karla, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Tell me what happened.”

Karla sobbed and hiccupped. Finally, she said, “Curtis was greedy. He felt he wasn’t getting his fair share.”

“Fair share of what?”

“We all took a cut of the larger operation.”

“Which was?”

“I didn’t ask questions.”

Yeah, I thought. I’ll bet.