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Carter Hunt sat back and stared at his computer screen with a self-satisfied smile. The final chapters of his sixth, consecutive best-selling novel were coming along nicely. He picked up a very expensive fountain pen, and after making a note, he studied the light playing off the gold accents of the blue marble pen. A flicker of movement in the computer monitor caught his attention. The pen was taken from him. The 14K gold, extra fine point nib buried itself in his neck, rupturing artery and ink cartridge. Blood mixed with ink spattered the computer monitor.
# Detective Sergeant Garrett Burrows watched the Medical Examiner make his preliminary analysis as a forensics team swept the upscale apartment. Carter Hunt was dead for a reason, and he'd been assigned to the case. As a metropolitan homicide detective, Garrett thought he'd seen it all, but this was new. "Garrett!" The sturdily built detective turned to see his partner hurrying toward him. "What is it Jackson?" Jackson Kelly was Garrett's exact opposite. Garrett was a bear of a man in a rumpled suit and overcoat pushing fifty. All that was missing from the hardboiled image was the cigarette and fedora, but one must change with the times. Jackson, however, was barely thirty with GQ model good-looks and a wardrobe to match. They'd been partnered together for Garrett's experience and Jackson's ability to smooth Garrett's chronic rough edges. "Ginger Martin's here - the girlfriend." Garrett
nodded as they headed toward the plush living room. Standing indignant
and increasingly frightened in the doorway was a tall, statuesque
red-head. For the first time in Garrett's recent memory, the sight
of a living person made the jaded homicide detective stop short. "We'll take over," Garrett told the uniformed officers and turned to the woman. "Ms. Martin? I'm Sergeant Burrows. This is Detective Kelly." What little color remained in her flawless, pale skin drained away as she gazed blankly at the detectives. Something's happened. Is Carter all right?" "I'm sorry to have to inform you, ma'am, but Carter Hunt's been killed." "Killed? You...you mean...he's dead?" "I'm afraid so, Ms. Martin. I know this is a bad time, but we need to ask you a few questions" Ginger composed herself the best she could. "Yes, yes, of course. I'll help in any way I can." Garrett led her over to an overstuffed sofa and looked at Jackson. The younger man nodded once. "I'll go see how the forensics guys are doing. Maybe talk to some of the neighbors." Ginger kept a tight grip on her self-control for as long as possible, but a blind man could see she was about to fall apart. "How well did you know Carter Hunt?" "We've
been friends for a long time, then we dated for the last six months,"
she told him. "I can't believe someone would...how did...?" "He was stabbed," he told her, watching for her reaction. "With a fountain pen." If possible, she paled even more. "Was...was it a blue one? Expensive? Heavy?" "Yes."
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