Once the three partners of Mourning Dove Investigations stepped out of Emory’s car, their heads turned toward the Godfrey Tower two blocks away. Rectangular with no slopes or balconies, the building reflected the late-morning sun on the side facing the street. Emory visored his eyes with his hand and pointed to a broken window on the twenty-ninth floor. “There it is.”
Virginia responded, “I see it.”
“Let’s just get this over with,” grumbled Jeff, glaring at Emory. “I still can’t believe you sided with her.”
“Aren’t you the least bit curious how a man crashed through a window that high from the outside with no obvious way to get there?”
Jeff started walking down the sidewalk. “Moderately.”
Emory nodded to the fifteen-story building across the street. “The nearest structure is too far away and too short for him to have come from there.”
Virginia looked up and down the street. “No cranes either.”
Emory followed his partners as he continued scanning the perimeter. “Virginia, how much do you know about Becky’s husband?”
“I only saw him a couple of times. The first time I met him, I was surprised because he wasn’t anyone I would picture with Becky. She always dated athletic guys, and Corey was more chess club than varsity. He was really cute but thin and no taller than me. Plus, he was like nine years older than her.” Virginia smiled. “I remember he was also funny as hell. Everyone around him seemed to enjoy his company.” She pointed to Jeff. “You two probably would’ve become friends if you had met.”
Jeff shook his head. “Too much work. Two funny guys, always competing to top each other? I prefer spending time with someone like Emory.”
The newbie PI huffed. “I do have a sense of humor, you know.”
Jeff smirked. “Let’s make finding it our next case.”
Virginia slapped Jeff on the forearm as they passed a bus stop. “That’s not nice.”
From behind them Emory would’ve responded, but something else caught his attention – a picture of himself in a poster ad on the side of a bus stop. The header in the ad read, “Here to help you,” and the text below it stated, “Mourning Dove Investigations welcomes TBI hero Emory Rome!” Beneath that was a list of investigative specialties, including murder, missing persons, fraud and blackmail.
Stunned into gawking stillness, Emory could feel his face flushing. “Oh my god.”
His partners backtracked to see what had captured his attention, and Jeff grinned. “My ad!”
Emory poked the billboard. “You did this?”
“Me and Virginia. Surprise!”
“How could you feature me in an ad without asking me first? And where did you get that picture?”
Jeff smiled at the photo of Emory leaning against a tree wearing a brown leather jacket, a cowboy hat and a sexy look that, knowing Emory, was unintentional. “Your mom sent it to me.”
“You and my mom correspond?”
“Just the once. I asked her for a photo, and she said this was her favorite.”
“You could’ve asked me.”
“Yes, and I’d still be waiting.”
Virginia grabbed her phone from her purse and took a picture of Emory next to the ad. “What’s your issue with it?”
Emory gestured toward the picture. “For one, I was eighteen when that picture was taken, and I look like a dork.”
Jeff grimaced at him. “That was five years ago. You haven’t changed that much. By the way, do you still have that outfit?”
“Of course not!”
“Too bad. It’s hot.”
Emory ignored his comment and returned his attention to Virginia. “Another reason is I don’t think we should leverage my service with the TBI for profit.”
She shook her head. “That part’s not up for debate.”
Jeff agreed. “Look, we granted you full partner status without any financial investment on your part. Your experience is your capital, and we need to exploit that.”
Emory frowned at them both. “Fine. I guess one little ad isn’t that big a deal.” His remark elicited an unexpected laugh from Jeff, while Virginia turned her face away from him. “What? Jeff, what is it?”
“I used the reward money from the Algarotti case to launch an aggressive new ad campaign.”
“When you say aggressive—”
“I mean we have ads going up all over Knoxville and online. You’ll be even more famous than you were before, and that halo’s going to spread to the agency.”
Although delivered as good news, Jeff’s words intensified the horror on Emory’s face.
“I want Mourning Dove Investigations to be the biggest detective agency in Tennessee, but I don’t just want to compete with other PIs. I want to compete with the police. With the TBI. Hell, the FBI maybe. I want us to solve cases before they do. To take the cases they can’t, or won’t, solve. To be the go-to agency for victims of crime. Sure, call the police first, but Mourning Dove Investigations is your second call. We’ll be the first step in privatizing criminal investigations.” Jeff placed an arm around Virginia and one around Emory. “Now let’s go crack this pro bono puzzle, and maybe we can move on to a real case by lunch.”
Virginia told him, “Jeff, do not make Becky feel like less of a client because she can’t pay. I want you to treat this like any other case.”
“You call it a case. I call it charity.”
“I’m serious.”
“Do you think her husband had life insurance?”
Virginia insisted as they entered the building, “We’re not asking for money.”
Moments later, when the elevator doors opened on the twenty-ninth floor, the trio of investigators could already see the scene of the potential crime through the paned-glass wall that separated the office space from the hallway. While police questioned employees and cataloged the arena, the body stiffened on the floor in the center of a yellow-taped perimeter that included the broken window.
The three were about to enter the office when a policewoman stopped them. “You can’t come in here.”
Virginia was the first to speak up. “Officer, we’re looking for Becky Melton, the victim’s wife.”
The officer centered herself in the doorway. “Unless you were here at the time of the incident and haven’t given your statement yet, you’re not coming in.”
“Emory!” A grinning police detective greeted him at the door. “I figured the TBI would be here once I found out the victim worked at the TVA.”
Emory shook his hand. “Lester, how are you?”
“Excellent. Who are your friends?”
He froze for a second as he debated whether to admit he was no longer with the TBI. “My partners.”
Lester squinted at them. “The TBI is doing threesomes now?”
Emory pointed to Jeff. “He’s actually a trainee. Virginia here is my partner.”
Jeff sneered at Emory, displaying his displeasure at the demotion. “I’m learning so much.”
Virginia stepped in front of him to talk to Lester. “Is the victim’s wife here?”
“Yeah, she insisted on coming down.” The police detective pointed to a wooden door beyond a quadrant of cubicles. “We put her up in that office over there.”
“I’ll go talk to her.”
“She’s pretty messed up. We didn’t want her to see the body, but it’s hard to hide.”
As Virginia walked away, Lester gave Emory a light punch on the shoulder. “So what happened to your other partner?”
“I needed a change.”
“I hear that. Come on, let me show you the victim.” Lester led them to the body, their path littered with papers blown from the desks by the steady wind whistling through the new opening. He lifted the yellow tape for them and stopped at the edge of a pool of blood that surrounded the victim’s head like a sanguine aura. “His name is Corey Melton. Thirty-four, married, no kids. The man who witnessed it kept saying he just flew into the window. Out of nowhere.”
“What time?” asked Emory.
“Eight-forty-five.”
While Jeff inspected every inch of the body without touching it, Emory took notes and pictures of the victim with his phone. “He’s a small guy. What, maybe five-foot-six?”
The detective nodded and continued debriefing them on all he knew. “He’s the manager of generation resources for the TVA. He’s in the corporate branch office on the fifth floor of this building.”
Jeff pointed to Corey’s palms. “His hands are red.”
Lester laughed. “That’s probably blood, trainee.” He looked at Emory as if hoping he would join him in laughing at the obvious observation. Emory did but stopped when he saw Jeff glaring at him.
“I’m not talking about the blood.” Jeff pointed to a rough red line across the width of both palms. “It looks like burns, like he held onto something hot.”
Emory zoomed in on the hands and took pictures. “You’re right.” He headed to the broken window, followed by Jeff, and each took a position on either side of the hole. They stuck their heads out to look down, up and toward both sides. “Where did he come from?”
Although not close to the window, Lester took a step backwards. “Guys please. You’re making me nervous.”
The men stepped away from the window, and Emory’s eyes ping-ponged between the body and the opening. “Any idea how he got here?”
“None whatsoever. Someone joked he was a human pumpkin.”
Jeff shook his head. “I don’t get it.”
“You know, pumpkin chunkin’ – like someone catapulted him up here.” Lester mimed a catapult with his arms.
“What the hell are you doing here?!”
The three men turned toward the door to see the profane inquisitor, and Emory’s shoulders slumped at the sight of his former TBI partner.