Death by Sarcasm - By Dani Amore Page 0,16

lobby, if you could call it that. It was more like a combination phone booth and port-a-potty. Small, dirty and home to a few mystery puddles that looked like Apple Pucker after it’d been processed through someone’s oversized liver.

Jeez, Mary thought. Uncle Brent’s place was like Camelot compared to this shithole.

She was surprised to see the name Olis listed on one of the mailbox slots. #312. Mary looked around but didn’t see an elevator so she opened the door marked STAIRS and took them up. On the first landing, a man lay sprawled in his own vomit.

“That’s okay, don’t get up,” Mary said as she passed him by. The man moaned and gargled at the same time. The smell made Mary hold her breath until she reached the third floor, which was the top floor at the Vista del Mar.

As Mary opened the door and began walking down the hallway toward 312, she thought about Barry Olis. The name didn’t ring any kind of bell with her, but this was Hollywood. Uncle Brent had met and known untold numbers of people as a comedian and writer. There were probably hundreds of names she’d never heard of. Mary wondered if Uncle Brent had known this Barry guy recently or if they were old friends. Hopefully, this Barry had seen anything that had happened the night Brent was murdered. As of right now, there still weren’t any real witnesses.

Mary finally came to Apartment 312. Farther down the hall, she heard a door slam and someone shout. She put her right hand inside her sportcoat on the butt of her .45. With her left hand, she reached up and knocked.

The door gave a little under her knock, and she saw that not only was the door unlocked, it wasn’t even latched shut. She looked both ways down the hall before taking her .45 all the way out of her shoulder holster. She pulled the slide and disengaged the safety.

“Hello?” she said. “Anyone home? Culligan Man!”

Again with her left hand she reached up and gave a very gentle knock. The door creaked inward and in a flash, Mary saw the thin wire stretched across the opening and she dove to her left as a bright flash blinded her and then a tremendous roar filled her ears. She felt herself lifted off the floor and then smashed into something hard.

For just a moment, she wondered if she looked just like the guy passed out in the stairwell.

And then she didn’t wonder anymore.

“I always knew I’d see you in bed again soon.”

Mary opened her eyes, despite the crushing headache that made her grind her jaws. She was on a rolling bed in an ambulance, parked outside the Vista del Mar. Jake Cornell looked down at her, a look of bemusement on his face. It made her head hurt even worse.

“And I knew you’d have to knock me unconscious to do it,” she said. Ooh, it hurt to talk, too. She ran a quick inventory up and down her body and discovered that just about everything ached.

“The blast knocked you backward and you hit your head on the fire extinguisher hanging on the wall,” Jake said. “You were lucky. It could have been a fire axe instead. But your head is so hard, it wouldn’t have mattered.”

Mary thought of a couple comebacks, but it hurt too much to actually say them.

“What’s your head made out of, anyway? Pewter?” Jake said.

Mary groaned and struggled to sit up. The pain actually lessened once she was up, but now she felt sore ribs, too. When she looked up, what she saw next really hurt.

Lieutenant Arianna Davies now stood next to Jake. The Shark apparently smelled blood.

“Let me guess,” Davies said. “You were here dropping off hand-knit scarves for the elderly.”

Mary turned to the paramedic who was next to her, closing up his medical kit. “Do you have anything in there that will make her go away?” she said, nodding toward the Shark. The paramedic pretended not to hear her.

“You really don’t want to keep your p.i. license do you, Cooper?” Davies said. “I told you to stay away from this case.”

“Well, maybe you should sign me up for the same obedience course you put him through,” Mary said, nodding toward Jake.

“Why were you here, Mary?” Jake asked. He tried to put it gently, but Mary still hated him for asking anyway. Traitor.

“Deadbeat Dad case I’m working on,” she said. “Supposedly the guy was hiding out here. Turns out he has