Protagonized

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Protagonized Page 32

by Shannon Myers


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  PREVIEW OF ANGEL OF DEATH

  CHAPTER ONE

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  There's nothing part-time PI Jessa Hopkins loves more than catching a cheater. Her latest case is no exception; that is, until her subject takes a swan dive off a high-rise.

  * * *

  Thanks to her incriminating photographs and a wacky septuagenarian who's seen one too many crime shows, Jessa is thrust right into the middle of a murder investigation.

  * * *

  Considered the prime suspect and with her every move under the scrutiny of the sexy Detective Keller, it's up to Jessa to catch the Angel of Death before she takes the fall...literally.

  * * *

  Angel of Death will be available March 7, 2019.

  I sat on the edge of my couch, staring blankly at the wall as the detective’s words echoed in my mind. I’d been tormented with visions of men falling from balconies. Mystery man, Detective Keller, even the sweet barista at my favorite coffee shop… I watched in horror as they fell to their deaths.

  I awoke to sweat-drenched sheets and a racing heart before deciding that I would just sleep when I was dead.

  I should’ve been in jail.

  The detective had been well within his rights to haul me in for questioning; hell, PIs were busted all the time for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  Well, probably not the good ones.

  The point was, there was no way they could rule what happened as an accident less than twelve hours later. I pinched the bridge of my nose. There hadn’t even been time for an autopsy and bloodwork to come back.

  I checked my phone again to see more missed calls and texts from Chad, but Jake was still M.I.A. I could sit here until he called me back, it wasn’t like I was getting a lot of business, or I could follow the lead I had.

  I was going to solve this one on my own.

  I ran the back of my hand across my eyes and grabbed my backpack. This wasn’t the case I wanted, but I owed it to the victim to find my own answers.

  Snow blanketed the city, making for a slow drive downtown. The overnight storm had also effectively erased all traces of tragedy from the street in front of the high-rise.

  I pulled the brim of my hat down over my head and snagged the plastic bags of Chinese food from the passenger seat, keeping my focus on the pavement as I left the parking garage.

  The last thing I needed was to be caught on surveillance, returning to the crime scene for a second time. I freed my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and held it to my ear, as if on a call, while waiting for someone to enter the building.

  I’d done it hundreds of times before to catch cheating spouses.

  Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long. A delivery man showed up with two plastic sacks of food and buzzed in. I slipped in behind him right before the door closed.

  The police were still swarming the lobby like bees, interviewing residents and taking statements from potential witnesses. I kept my head down and walked toward the elevators, hoping they’d assume I was delivering food if they noticed me at all.

  I was so caught up in not drawing unwanted attention that I nearly missed the older woman hiding behind a row of large potted plants near the stairwell.

  I signaled for the elevator, but kept her in my sights. She appeared to have a notebook in her hand and was furiously scribbling in it.

  Maybe it was curiosity, or simply poor judgment brought on by lack of sleep, but when the heavy metal doors slid open, I moved toward her and away from original plan.

  “Hi,” I offered cautiously.

  “This doesn’t concern you, honey.”

  I recognized her as the wearer of bunny slippers from last night. Her reaction wasn’t quite what I’d expected. Then again, I hadn’t expected to find someone hiding behind the lobby greenery.

  I took another tentative step forward. “Actually, it does.” My throat tightened with apprehension, but I forced myself to take several deep breaths until it passed.

  “You a cop?” The woman hissed, still completely hidden from everyone but me.

  “No. He—I saw him fall.” The words seemed wrong. Foreign.

  A wrinkled hand shot out and reached for mine. “Get in.”

  I glanced around to see if anyone had noticed me talking to a plant before squeezing through the foliage. The woman had to be at least seventy, but she’d come prepared. There was a thermos, bottled water, a lunchbox, and her notebook.

  “What’s going on?”

  “The cops have it all wrong,” she insisted. “Oh, they’re making everyone here think that they’re looking into it, but from what I’ve heard, they’re going to rule it an accident.”

  Detective Keller had said as much and I sighed in frustration. “How long have you been in here?”

  The woman consulted the watch on her wrist. “About eight hours. I lost feeling in my feet after thirty minutes, but it was the best place to observe. I told them what I thought and they just think I’m some batty old lady with too much time on my hands; maybe they’re right, but I know a murder when I see one.”

  I drew my brows together. “Have you seen a lot of, um, murders?”

  The woman nodded sagely. “Every day, honey. There’s Bobbing for Bloodshed at nine, Death Does Dallas at eleven, Slay Girls at four-thirty—that one’s my favorite—”

  I interrupted before she had a chance to give the entire lineup for the crime channel . “But, have you ever seen a real murder?”

  “Oh, heavens no. My Frank has made sure that I stay safe and out of trouble. Is that Chinese? May I?” She pointed at the plastic bag and I handed it over.

  “So, who are you and why are you here?” I hadn’t meant for the question to come across as accusatory, but this woman was crazier than a bedbug.

  Instead of being offended, she put the bag down and thrust a heavily lined hand into mine. “Laura. Laura Bennett. And I’m here to solve a murder, obviously. And you are? Besides the decedent’s official photographer.”

  “Jessa Hopkins,” I answered distractedly while she laughed at her little joke. “But, what about Frank?”

  Laura waved her hand as if shooing something away. “What Frank doesn’t know won’t hurt him. I have my cell phone. I’m staying safe. As it is, I’ll be sitting down here until my next birthday before we get answers that make sense. Now, who are our suspects?”

  Before I could answer, a cop moved within earshot and Laura held up a finger to silence me. Once he passed, she whispered, “It’s not safe here. Let’s go up to my condo.”

  She gathered up her belongings and tossed them into a canvas duffel bag that had been hidden inside the planter before putting on a pair of sunglasses.

  I should’ve made an excuse, but I’d been struck dumb. Nothing about the woman made sense. I was beginning to question my own judgment in following a complete stranger up to her condo, but felt confident I could take a kindly old lady if needed. Plus, she seemed to be the only other person who wasn’t buying the accidental death theory.

  Once the area cleared, we emerged and headed toward the elevators.

  “Excuse me, ma’am. Do you live in this building? I’d like to ask you a few questions.” The officer stepped into view and I knew with one glance that he was a rookie— bright eyes and an eagerness not yet dulled by years of working repetitive beats and seeing more human depravity than any one person should.

  Just like Jake had taught her.

  I covered the sob that escaped with a cough and blinked until my vision was clear. He would call… just as soon as hell froze over.

  “Sweetheart, is there someone there?” Laura felt for my sleeve before turning her head left and then right, like she’d suddenly
forgotten where she was.

  “Um, yes. He’s wondering if you live in the building.”

  I frowned, suddenly wondering if the woman was a resident or if it had been a ruse. What if she was just some ambulance chaser?

  “I’m sorry, young man,” She turned her head toward a wall, completely opposite from where the officer was standing. “My granddaughter has just come to visit. Did something happen?”

  The officer moved in front of her. “Did you happen to hear anything unusual last night?”

  Laura’s head gave slight, jerky movements. “I’m afraid that once the old hearing aids are out, I’m as deaf as a fence post.”

  His face fell, but he nodded. “Of course. I’ll let you be on your way. Enjoy your time with your granddaughter.”

  “I hope you figure out what you heard,” Laura added as the elevator arrived.

  Oh, she was good.

  Once the doors slid closed, I leaned over the railing and convulsed with laughter. I caught my breath enough to whisper, “I thought we were done for. How did you know to put on sunglasses?”

  Laura used the metal wall as a mirror to fluff her hair. “When you get to be my age, you think of everything. We haven’t done anything wrong and I don’t have time to waste. Plus, I’m not giving them any evidence. Have you seen the way this city runs? Heads up their asses…every one of them.”

  She ushered me off the elevator and into her condo. “Make yourself at home. Do you take tea?”

  The question struck me as absurd. What were we going to be doing— conversing about murder over a plate of crumpets?

  “Uh, I actually need to get going soon—”

  “Get going?” Laura interrupted. “Why, you just got here. Unless you couldn’t give two figs about pleasantries and just want to get right to it?”

  I gave a guilty nod. When put like that, it didn’t seem very friendly.

  “Finally, a woman after my own heart. The women my age need sustenance before they can even discuss the most basic of topics. Drives me up a wall. Now then, where were we?” She paused before remembering.

  “Ah yes, the victim. We know he was here to see the tart in 30C. She’s cried her crocodile tears for the cops, claiming he leaned too far over and the railing collapsed.” Laura waved a hand dismissively.

  I wondered if she was one of the two women I’d seen.

  “So, you really don’t believe it was an accident?” I tested the waters; needing to confess what I knew, but not quite willing to risk looking like a fool.

  The old woman chuckled. “Absolutely not. And neither do you or you wouldn’t be here. He was set up from the word go.”

  “But, then it’s obvious that the wo—er, the tart in 30C is to blame, right?” I felt Laura out, still keeping my cards close to my chest.

  “Wrong again. I don’t think that she knows a darn thing about what happened.” Laura walked over to the glass doors that led out onto the balcony.

  Like a moth drawn to a flame, I followed. She glanced up toward the next balcony before retrieving a small box.

  “How can you be so sure? You said yourself that you didn’t believe her.”

  Laura held up a hand, motioning for me to remain quiet as she walked back inside. She waited until the door was closed before nodding. “I don’t believe what she told the cops. But I also know something that they don’t.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Tiffany wasn’t home. Whoever got her to confess to being there has something on her; something that’s made her very compliant.”

  I shook my head. “No, I have proof that she was there.” I fished around in my backpack until I located the camera. “See?”

  Laura reviewed the images. “Honey, that’s not Tiffany.”

  I studied the image again. “Then who is it?”

  “That, my dear, is just what we’re going to find out.” She pressed a button on the box and several voices filled the room at once.

  “What is this?”

  She turned the volume up and grinned triumphantly. “This, my dear, is audio from the balcony above mine.”

  We gazed at the silver box in rapt attention as the police candidly discussed the crime. When one of the detectives asked where the resident of the condo was staying during the investigation, Laura grabbed a pen and paper from the side table and began scribbling furiously.

  “This is where we start. We find Tiffany and start getting some answers. Give me a minute. I just need to grab my coat.”

  I stood up. “I don’t think—I’m just going to go now. It’s been a long morning and I—”

  “And you’re right smack dab in the middle of this. That’s what you are. Either you’re involved, which I don’t believe for a second, or you’ve got a reason to solve this. How’d you get those photographs, Jessa?”

  I thought of the job that had led me up that fire escape and clenched my jaw at the realization. “I was set up. I never met the man, but he hired me to find out if his fiancee was cheating. He told me the time, the place, and exactly where to be and I was too stupid to realize that he was leading me into a trap.”

  Laura nodded, as if my answer was something she’d expected all along. “So, you’re a PI?”

  “Yeah; well, sorta. It’s kind of a part-time gig.”

  She added something to her notepad. “Okay. We need to get to Tiffany before someone else does. If she can give us the identity of the two women on the balcony, we might be onto something. We’ll follow every lead until we get to your mystery man.”

  I wanted to disagree again; to claim that I had somewhere to be, but the woman was persuasive and I needed someone who could help me. “Are you sure you’re…” I let my sentence trail off. She was in her seventies, for crying out loud.

  “Am I sure that I have nothing going on? My calendar is completely clear. Let me just say goodbye to Frank and grab my coat.”

  I had to be losing my mind. It appeared as if I’d just agreed to solve a case with an elderly woman.

  * * *

  Angel of Death will be available March 7, 2019.

  PREVIEW OF OPERATION FIT-ISH

  About Operation Fit-ish

  What’s a comic book nerd to do when she’s dumped by her not-quite-a-superhero fiancé just weeks before the wedding? Tempting as it is to drown her sorrows in ice-cream, Dakota decides that maybe she’ll keep that appointment with the personal trainer who was going to help her squeeze into her dress after all.

  * * *

  She soon realizes that while she’s not quite ready to ditch her Avengers T-shirt for a Spandex crop top just yet, being at the gym does have some perks. Like semi-stalking Zane, the cute blond guy who looks a lot like Thor…

  * * *

  But while Zane may not be a Norse god, he does have a secret. One that brings him closer to Dakota, and brings Dakota closer to danger.

  * * *

  Is Zane the superhero she’s been waiting for her whole life? Will he swoop in and save the day? Or is he the villain whose superpower is the ability to break her heart?

  * * *

  Operation Fit-ish is a full-length STANDALONE with no cliffhanger. To purchase, simply tap the title.

  I lay on my couch with an ice pack to my forehead. I’m coming down with the flu, I just know it. I probably picked up something from my morning orientation at the gym.

  I started feeling lightheaded halfway through. That should’ve been my first clue. Then, I vomited…twice. Doucheface said he’d never had anyone get sick during orientation and I really had to resist the urge to vomit on his Nikes. I wanted to quit so many times and take my poor body home to bed, but Thor was working out a mere ten feet away.

  Thor!

  He didn’t look over even once, but I felt like we’d made a connection. This had to be a sign from the universe—I spend my whole life obsessing over superheroes and within days of being dumped, he appears in my life.

  I hear you, universe! And I’m on board!

  The sound of my ce
ll phone ringing interrupts my daydreams.

  “Hello?”

  “Dakota—it’s Christy. Listen, Viv didn’t show up for her shift this morning and the corporate office for the mall is threatening to fine the company if someone doesn’t get that store opened ASAP.”

  Christy is the district manager for Bella Beauty, the store I manage. We cater to every beauty need a person could ever have. Need a fun dress for date night? My store carries it. Unsightly blemishes? We’ve got a product for that.

  I wasn’t supposed to go in until one. It’s my night to close…not open and close.

  I stifle a groan. “Let me just grab a shower and I’ll be up there as soon as possible.”

  “Thanks, Dakota. See if you can get one of the other girls to come in and close with you tonight.”

  Yeah, right.

  The odds of one of my girls being willing to give up their Friday night plans to close the store were slim to none.

  “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll take care of it.”

  It’s not what I wanted to do. What I wanted to do was lie around on the couch for the next three hours and focus on my imminent death brought on by working out.

  Well, that, and maybe more thoughts of the man who looks like the god of thunder.

  “Leg extensions. This machine targets your Quad-Ry-Ceps. Quad-Ry-Ceps. Sounds like a dinosaur,” I mumble to myself as I study the pictures on the machine.

  Doucheface greeted me briefly and then sent me upstairs to run a mile at a gentle five point five pace. I gave him the evil eye from my perch high above as I ran, my body crying tears of sweat the entire time.

 

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