Murder in Honolulu: a Skye Delaney Mystery
“Axelrod was found slumped over his desk, a bullet wound to the side of his head. The possible murder weapon was in plain sight. Right now, the police were calling it a probable suicide. I was calling it one damned coincidence too many.
Upon hearing the news, I raced to the scene of the crime. Axelrod's office building was crawling with police personnel. I flashed my private detective credential to get through. Sometimes it worked, other times I was dismissed as a pain in the ass who was playing... a game way out of her league.
Fortunately, the young male officer who stood guard at the entry was a sucker for a private investigator with nice legs. Once past him, I was home free. I made my way to Axelrod's office, careful not to contaminate any possible evidence.
It looked as if it had been hit by a hurricane. More things were displaced and dispersed than not.
The victim had already been carted off to the morgue. His desktop was splattered with blood, as was his chair, and seemingly half the wall behind the desk.MoreLess
Upon hearing the news, I raced to the scene of the crime. Axelrod's office building was crawling with police personnel. I flashed my private detective credential to get through. Sometimes it worked, other times I was dismissed as a pain in the ass who was playing... a game way out of her league.
Fortunately, the young male officer who stood guard at the entry was a sucker for a private investigator with nice legs. Once past him, I was home free. I made my way to Axelrod's office, careful not to contaminate any possible evidence.
It looked as if it had been hit by a hurricane. More things were displaced and dispersed than not.
The victim had already been carted off to the morgue. His desktop was splattered with blood, as was his chair, and seemingly half the wall behind the desk.MoreLess
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