Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

 

When Mosby walked into his apartment he went directly to his answering machine to see if there were any messages from Lilly.

 

The flashing light indicated there was one new message. He pressed the play button.

 

“Thursday – 1:24 PM…Mosby, it’s Lilly. I’m still mad at you for waking me up so early. I need my beauty sleep you know. Listen. I tried to call the police like you said but I got caught in voice mail hell. I finally gave up. Don’t say it. I know. I know. Anyway, I’m doing my good deed for the day. I’m letting a strange woman sleep it off on my sofa. Call me when you get home.”

 

“End of Messages.”

 

Mosby dialed Lilly’s number. He let it ring twenty times before finally hanging up. Maybe she’d turned the ringer off after he’d called her. He made a mental note to buy Lilly an answering machine for Christmas.

 

Mosby selected a frozen dinner from the stack of Healthy Choice Entrée’s in his freezer. “Tonight’s selection – Beef with Broccoli” he muttered to himself. “You need a wife, Mosby Ellis.”

 

He set the microwave for five minutes, opened a can of Foster’s and stretched out of the couch. He reached over and picked up the remote and turned on the television just in time to catch the beginning of the early news.

 

The lead story was about the firing of the Redskin’s coach. It was only two games into the regular season and the team was even worse than last year. Mosby guessed the owner had decided to pull the plug early. Judging from the “man-on-the-street” interviews, Redskin Nation was in full agreement.

 

The next story was about the body that had been discovered early that morning out in Virginia.

 

“Police are asking for your help in identifying the young woman who was found murdered this morning on the top level of a parking garage at Tyson’s Galleria. The victim, who police are identifying as a blonde woman in her early to mid twenties had been strangled. There is no evidence of sexual assault. Persons with any information should call the number on your screen. Callers may remain anonymous.”

 

Mosby grabbed a pencil and scribbled down the number. There had been no mention of the tattoo.

 

He tried Lilly’s number again with the same result as before.

 

The microwave buzzed indicating his dinner was ready but he didn’t move from the couch. He wasn’t hungry. He drank his beer and stared at the phone. Something was wrong. He knew it.