Friday, November 22, 2013

A Luring Murder by Stacy Verdick Case

“He said that like it was a good thing.”

Louise held one hand out to Digs. He helped her to her feet. Louise balanced on her crutches and rocked her way over to me.

She turned toward me. “What is wrong with your hair?”

I sighed. I didn’t have to see my hair to know what she was talking about. From the moment I stepped outside this morning I felt the kinks of my naturally curly hair work their way out of the rubber band I’d unceremoniously lashed them into this morning.

“It’s the humidity,” I said. “Live with it.”

“Okay.”  Louise pointed toward the ground. “Is this a friend of yours?”

The mop dog had come back and stood a few feet away. He stared at me with a vicious look in his eyes. I turned away from the little spit so he wouldn’t think I was challenging him or something.

“We’ve met, but I wouldn’t call us friends.”

Hot damp permeated my pant leg. I looked down. The mop dog had left me something to remember him by; the little bastard. He kicked grass at me with his back legs, and then trotted off to sit next to a tree. Wasn’t being here punishment enough? Now I had to be peed on?

“I don’t know,” Digs said. “Looks like he knows you pretty well to me.”

“Hell hath no fury like furry fury. Is that it Fido?” I asked.

He lay down and rested his head on his paws ignoring me.

Louise covered her smile behind one perfectly manicured hand. In contrast Digs whinnied in an ear-splitting, feminine, giggle fit. I’d never heard the sound of a teenage girl come out of a man, and from the gape on her face neither had Louise.

I glared at the dog and pointed to my sodden pant leg. “This is assaulting a police officer. I should call the pound and have you locked up, you menace.”

He stood, turned in place, gave on final, “woof,” and lay down in a shady spot of grass to sleep.

I shook my leg in a vain attempt to dislodge the jean material, which had plastered itself to my skin.

“Do you want to change your clothes?”  Louise asked. “We can wait.”

I considered the offer for about half a second. My discomfort could wait, but evidence could deteriorate with every second we waited to process the scene.

“I’ll change later. Let’s see if there’s any room at the inn.”  I gestured toward the big white house at the top of the road where the resort office’s neon sign glowed open. “Then we’ll process the scene. When we’re done, I’ll worry about the poochy perfume.”

“You know,” Digs said as we walked to the main house of the resort. “They say that animals are excellent judges of character. So what does that say about you, O’Brien?”

“Bite me, Digs.”

A Luring Murder

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Genre – Mystery

Rating – PG13

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