The Fine Art of Murder: Except from Portrait of a Rainy Death by Claudia Pfeiffer

Portrait of a Rainy Death is a short story by Speed City Chapter member Claudia Pfeiffer. Although Claudia really didn't find her passion for writing until a few years ago, she comes by it naturally. Her first story was published when he was in grade school. Her mother was a playwright and her step-father a popular author of Westerns, including Shane. 

This short story is among twenty short murder mysteries and tales of suspense included in The Fine Art of Murder, now available online at Amazon (click here). Barnes and Noble (click here), and Walmart (click here).   

Portrait of a Rainy Death

by Claudia Pfeiffer

Lamb entered the building, and Mallard walked to a shiny red Ferrari parked at the curb. We were across the street. I eased into traffic, turned around in the alley and followed Mallard to his condo. That’s when we spotted the private eye. He wasn’t awfully good. Pulled to the curb, snapped a picture of Mallard then propped a newspaper in front of his face. Talk about stereotyping. While Rosie stayed with the car watching the condo, I walked to the dick’s car, opened the passenger door and climbed in.

“What the hell?” He turned toward me and dropped his camera on the floor, bent over and retrieved it. I flashed my shield. He explained that Mallard’s wife hired him to follow her husband.

“I’ll need your notes and photos.” I stated.

“No way, mister. I’ve got a license.”

“And I’ll pull it if you don’t cooperate,” I told him in a gruff tone.

“Shit. This is the first decent paying gig I’ve had for ages. Why you wanna get in my face?”

“Tell you what.” I leaned back and studied him. “You give me copies of all your notes and duplicate photos, and you can stay on the job. Just keep that info flowing my direction. You don’t? You’ll be charged with interfering with a police investigation.” I handed him my card and left. Walked back to my car, got in with Rosie and pulled into traffic.

“What’s up, Mason?” she asked.

“We’ve got a bulldog on the job for us. We’ll go watch the widow.” I described my meeting with the P.I. We had a good laugh. The setup worked out well for us. All kinds of surveillance done on someone else’s time and dime. It’s how we found out about the Manchester and the bed and breakfast. And how we found out where Mallard was the night in question, and it wasn’t with this married woman he made up.