by Renee George
“I know, girl. I don’t like it either.” I scanned the counters for a phone but didn’t see one. However, I did see blood on the corner of a white marble-topped center island. From across the room, I could see a clear glass turned upside down in the sink, but there was nothing else in there or on the counters, not even crumbs. I wanted to go in and investigate further, but I didn’t want the sheriff arresting me for contaminating the crime scene more.
“Let’s go look in the other rooms,” I told Smooshie.
I held my breath until I reached the living room. It was immaculate. Hardwood floors with a high polish, lint-free furniture, dust-free end tables, coffee tables, and bookshelves. Even his television was spotless, no fingerprints or smudges. The dust-free part was a huge feat, considering Donnie lived on a rural road. The smell of lemon and pine became more potent as I traversed the room. If he had a phone in the living room, though, I didn’t see it.
The first door in the hallway was open. Inside, a neatly made queen-size bed with a green comforter had been placed against the far wall. There was a dark mahogany bedside table, a bookshelf, and a matching dresser. Other than that, the room lacked any personal touches, except for a clock on the wall in the shape of a sundial and some modern art prints that filled in the space around it. Was this where a twenty-four-year-old male graduate student slept? Donnie struck me as the kind of guy who lived more adventurously.
Smooshie growled. She crouched down, her ears going back. Her normally friendly brown eyes were narrowed and alert.
“Shhhh,” I said quietly, giving her a reassuring pat on the head. “Let me listen.” I let my cougar slip forward. A small shift, just enough to turn my nails into claws and sharpen my eyes, ears, and nose.
I heard it, then, a whirring noise coming from down the hall. It sounded like a computer hard drive fan. I stepped toward the noise, and Smooshie’s nails clicked along the hardwood. I pulled back my animal side just in case someone alive was still in the house. I’d already broken Buzz’s rule about showing my true self to a human once, I wouldn’t make that mistake again.
The whir came from behind a closed door down the hall from the bathroom, another immaculately clean room. Slowly, I opened the door.
Brrrrriiiiiinnnng!
I squawked, and Smooshie started barking. The room was an office. There were a couple of black metal file cabinets, a utilitarian desk, a fire safe, a computer, and a landline phone.
I blinked as it rang again. I crossed the floor to the desk and picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Hi.” The voice sounded surprised on the other end. “This is Michelle Floyd, human resources manager for Two Hills Community College. I’m calling for Donald Doyle. Do I have the right number?”
“Yes, ma’am. This is Mr. Doyle’s phone number.”
“Can I speak to him?” Her voice was suddenly tart and sharp.
“I’m afraid you can’t right now.” I didn’t know what to say to the woman. It wasn’t my place to tell people Donnie was dead.
Her tone became even terser. “You tell Mr. Doyle that he’s missed a week of classes. It’s completely unacceptable. He needs to call me immediately.”
“If I speak to him, I’ll let him know.” I hung up. I felt a little shaky. I needed to call Nadine, but without my cell phone, I didn’t have her number. Heck, I didn’t have anyone’s number, and I hadn’t bothered to memorize my contacts. Which meant…
I punched in the three numbers I dreaded dialing most. Nine. One. One.
“Can I get your name?” an operator asked.
I thought about lying and leaving before the cops arrived, but I didn’t. Instead, I sighed and said, “Lily Mason.”
“And what’s your emergency, Lily?”
“I found a dead body,” I told her. “Again.”
Chapter 6
Sheriff Avery, a burly man with short, graying brown hair, glared at me from the porch. He’d insisted that Smooshie and I wait by my truck until he could question me further. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he talked to Deputy Bobby Morris, a tall black man with intense brown eyes. I’d learned from Nadine that Bobby had two boys under the age of ten with his wife of thirteen years. He had been a state trooper before taking the job at the sheriff’s department. I liked Bobby, and I hoped the sheriff would send him over to take my statement.
Bobby flashed me a sympathetic look before he went back inside the house. Nope. The sheriff was going to interrogate…er…question me himself.
I braced myself as he walked toward me with a menacing stride.
“Young lady, why am I not surprised to find you in the middle of, yet again, another death in this county?”
“I guess I’m just really lucky, Sheriff.” I placed my hand on my hip. Smooshie, who I’d put in the truck, stuck her head out the window I’d rolled halfway down and growled. “Hush, girl.” My soul puppy was reacting to my emotional state. I tried to relax. “I can assure you that I don’t like finding dead bodies any more than you like me finding them.”
“Uh huh.” He pursed his lips, the line between his brows deepening with his frown. “What is your relationship to Donnie Doyle?”
“I don’t have one.”
He raised a questioning brow. “Are you certain? Doyle has a reputation for ladies, and you do frequent the bar where he works.”
“Are you keeping tabs on me, Sheriff?”
We stared at each other for several tense seconds until Avery blinked. “It’s a small town, Ms. Mason. People talk.”
“Well, they certainly weren’t talking about Donnie and me.”
The sheriff’s expression soured even more, if possible. “Then why are you here?”
“Someone called in a lost dog to the shelter. A puppy. He’d been half-starved, and we found out from the vet he belongs to Doyle.”
“Why didn’t you call the sheriff’s department to investigate?”
“I did.”
“We don’t have a log of your phone call?”
“Well, we called…” Crap. Would I be getting Nadine in trouble if I said Ryan had called her directly? The fact that she dated my uncle and the two of us were friends seemed to be two strikes against her in Avery’s eyes.
“Yes?” The sheriff furrowed his bushy brows. “You called who?”
“I called nine-one-one as soon as I could.”
“Uh huh,” he muttered. “Tell me again why you unlawfully entered the property.”
I had to fight the impulse to roll my eyes. Sheriff Avery disliked me enough to haul me into his office if he got a bug up his butt about my attitude. I needed to stay calm.
“I door was ajar, and I wanted to make sure no one was hurt inside. Especially when I saw the door was open.”
“And why didn’t you call for help as soon as you saw the blood?”
I pulled my shattered phone from my purse. “I had no way of getting ahold of you guys without going inside. The phone in the house was ringing, and I thought the quickest way to get help if Doyle was injured was to find it.”
“Did you remove anything from the house?”
“Do you want to frisk me?”
Avery’s puffy face turned red. “Don’t push it, Ms. Mason.”
“No,” I told him, “I didn’t remove anything. Other than using the phone, I was careful not to touch anything.”
“And what about your mutt?”
A crackling sizzle of protectiveness zipped through me at his disdain for Smooshie. “She’s not a mutt.” I closed my eyes for a second, hoping the color hadn’t changed to reflect my inner cougar.
When I opened them, the corner of Avery’s mouth tugged up in a half-smile. “You gonna answer the question?”
A white luxury car pulled in behind my truck, distracting the sheriff long enough for me to get myself centered again. Reggie Crawford got out from the driver’s side. She wore a violet wrap dress and some killer black heels. “Someone call for a coroner?” She smiled at me. “Oh, hey, Lily. Why are you here?”
The sheriff scowled.
I shook my head, but said, “I just have that kind of luck.” Now that she was closer, I noticed she’d had her hair and nails done to a T. Pre-graduation prep, probably. Reggie was really freaked out about her ex’s impending arrival.
“You look great,” I told her. She smelled brightly of citrus and raspberries. “And that perfume is yummy.” There was the undercurrent of another scent, something spicy and familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it.
“Thanks, Lily.” Reggie smiled brightly. “Now, Sheriff Avery. About that body?”
The sheriff’s lip curled in a snarl. “It’s a simple case of accidental death, Dr. Crawford. Victim slipped on his kitchen floor and hit his head on the corner of his center island.”
“Not that I don’t trust your medical opinion, Sheriff, but I wouldn’t be doing my duty as coroner for this county if I didn’t at least go take a peek. Do we know who it is, yet?”
“It’s Donnie Doyle,” I told her.
Reggie blanched then regained her composure. “The waiter?”
Before I could confirm, Sheriff Avery stepped between us and gave me a look that told me to shut up or else. I held up my hands and took a step back toward my truck, trying to make a strategic retreat.
His lips thinned as he glared at me. “Stay put, Ms. Mason.” He turned to Reggie then and made a swooping gesture toward the house with his left arm. “Body is in the kitchen.”
Deputy Morris handed Reggie some paper booties for her feet when she reached the front door. She slipped her heels off on the small porch and placed the covers over her bare feet. Dang, Reggie had nice legs. And considering the paramedics, Morris, and even the sheriff had cast quick but appreciative glances, I wasn’t the only one who noticed. She had nothing, and I mean nothing, to worry about when her ex-husband came to town.
I cleared my throat. The sheriff’s ears and cheeks reddened. “Look. If you need to ask me any more questions, you know where I work and you know where I live. I won’t be hard to find.” I was going to have to stop by Walmart and see about getting another phone. “Can I go? I need to get Smooshie home and fed.” On cue, my girl began to whine. Loudly.
“Fine,” Avery said. “I’ll be talking to you later.” He sounded like my high school principal, Mr. Roderick Stark. A warlock with bad breath and an even worse temper. The man was always blustering about one thing or another. My bestie Haze Kinsey and I were always on his short list.
I gave my nemesis a perky smile. “It’s been nice seeing you again, Sheriff Avery.” I nodded my head and walked quickly to the driver-side door of old Martha. I jumped in the truck and started it up before the sheriff changed his mind. I could tell by the look on his face, he would have preferred to haul me away in handcuffs before letting me go.
I wanted to call Parker or Nadine. I really needed to get ahold of Nadine to warn her. The sheriff might be a jerk, but he wasn’t stupid, and I didn’t want her facing backlash at work over our friendship. Neither Parker nor Nadine was going to get a call from me, though. Not without a phone.
Instead of turning left out on the highway, I took a right. I couldn’t leave Nadine in the lurch about Doyle. Since I didn’t know where she was, I headed straight to The Cat’s Meow, my uncle Buzz’s diner.
It was dinnertime on a Friday night. The crowd at the diner usually started at five and didn’t slow down until nine. Buzz liked it busy. He said hard work kept him young. Of course, since he was a werecougar like myself, he really didn’t need any help in the “staying young” department. He and Nadine had been living together for three months, so I knew he’d have her on speed dial.
Cars and trucks lined the small parking lot outside the restaurant. I parked a block down on the street and walked back up. It took a few minutes because Smooshie had to stop every ten steps to pee.
I didn’t blame her. It had been several hours since the last time I’d gone to the bathroom, and the cola I’d consumed at the end of my shift was painfully stretching my bladder.
I walked with my knees pressed together as I closed in on the last few feet to the diner. I quickened my pace, but unfortunately, my nemesis—not the sheriff, the other one, Naomi Wells, with her golden-blonde hair and rosy complexion—barred my entry.
“Fantastic,” I muttered. Naomi was a reporter for a large St. Louis newspaper, a real “hometown girl makes good” story, and for some reason, she’d decided I was a story worth pursuing. She’d been best friends with Parker’s high school sweetheart, Bridgette Jones.
Bridgette, who turned out to be a murderer, killed herself after she shot me. Her husband, Tom, tried to finish the job. Naomi had written several stories about the killings, painting both Bridgette and Tom as misunderstood. She’d been trying to get an interview with me for two months. Back in March, she’d tried to get to me through Parker. As his date. That still burned my butt.
“Why, if it isn’t Lily Mason?” She smiled. “Just the gal I was looking for.”
Smooshie shoved her head between Naomi’s legs and under her red A-line skirt. Naomi yelped and pushed her skirt down.
I pulled Smooshie back. “Stop that,” I said to her. “You never know what evil you might find lurking in dark corners.”
She glared and gave me a flat smile. “Why don’t you ask Parker?” She winked. “He has the inside scoop.”
Wow. Ouch. She’d made a quick precision strike, and it cut deep. Deeper than I wanted to admit. I knew they’d gone out on a date back in March, but Parker had assured me he wasn’t interested in Naomi. She wasn’t pinging my lie detector, at least not completely, but I suspected my magic was a little broken when it came to all things Parker.
“What do you want, Naomi?” I crossed my legs and bounced on my toes to keep from peeing my pants.
“Are you having a seizure?”
“Only when you’re around.” Smooshie, who usually tried to drag me around, decided to sit quietly and watch the cat fight. I hated to disappoint her, but if I didn’t get inside, I was going to have to explain the humiliating puddle at my feet. “You need to get out of my way.”
Naomi towered over me by seven inches, so I’m sure it surprised her when I gave her a light shove that sent her staggering sideways. I tugged at Smoosh, who was slow on the uptake that we were moving on and powered my way through the door.
The booths and tables were mostly occupied. I drew a few stares from some of the locals, including Dalton Newton, Addy’s father, and his wife, Jessica. When I met Dalton’s eyes, he looked away. I’d killed his brother Nick, not that anyone knew, though. Except for Parker, of course. Parker told the police it had been a large animal attack, which hadn’t been a complete lie. I’d shifted into my other nature to save Parker’s life when Nick tried to shoot him. In the process, I’d torn out Nick’s throat.
I wish I felt more remorse. Nick was human. I should have felt bad, but when a guy tries to kill you and the man you might be in love with, it’s hard to feel anything but relief when he’s gone. Besides, if I had to go to a murder trial, I’d rather go as a witness than a defendant.
I knew from Addy that Dalton didn’t blame me for what happened to his brother. Still, I think I served as an embarrassing reminder of something he wanted to forget.
Freda delivered a tray of burgers and fried tenderloins to a four-top. She acknowledged me with a curt nod as I took Smooshie through the arch past the bathrooms and toward Buzz’s office. I ushered her inside the small room.
“Behave.” I pointed at her then ruffled her ear while shifting back and forth on the balls of my feet pee-pee-dance style. “I’ll be right back.”
She gave me a cockeyed look, a big grin splitting her wide jaw.
“You heard me.” I backed up and closed the door between us before dashing the few feet up the hall to the ladies’ room. After peeing for what seemed like an hour, I washed my hands and cussed a little because the rack above the sink was out of paper towels.
The door handle rattled.
“Occupied,” I said. I ripped a long strip of toilet paper off the wall-mounted roll and began patting it between my wet palm. Little pieces of the white fall-apart paper were sticking to my skin.
“Christ, I’ve got to go,” I heard a woman say in a quiet voice. Thanks to my Shifter hearing, it came through loud and clear.
Another woman said, “As long as she’s been in there, you better hope there’s some air freshener.”
“You don’t think?” asked the first woman. “Ew.”
While I hadn’t had to poop, I thought it was hideously inappropriate for the two women to be whispering about the possibility. I grabbed another piece of toilet paper, unlocked the door, and flung it open. Both woman, one in her mid-thirties with mousy brown hair and the other a middle-aged brunette with glasses, widened their eyes in surprise.
“All yours,” I said. I gave them a pointed look before heading to the kitchen. First priority, after not peeing my pants, was to get Nadine on the phone.
Buzz stood near the grill, meat sizzling and his spatula in hand. He wore his mop of coppery red hair under a ball cap, and he kept his beard and mustache trimmed neat. My uncle, who was in his seventies, looked to be in his late twenties-early thirties. He and Nadine had dated for eight months before they decided to move in together. He’d warned me off forming attachments to humans, but as he could plainly attest, talking about it and doing it where two different things.
“Hey, Lily.” Buzz smiled when he saw me. “Did you come in for dinner?” He flipped five burgers then buttered some buns and threw them on the empty side of the grill.
“I need to talk to Nadine.”
“She’s still at work. Did you try calling her?”
I retrieved my broken phone from my purse and showed him the shattered screen. “Oops.” I shook my head. “I found a dead body.”
Buzz winced. “Another one?”
“Believe me, I’d stop if I could. I think I might have gotten Nadine in trouble with the sheriff. I want to warn her.”
He wiped his hands on a white towel poking out of his apron pocket. He walked across the room to a shelf and grabbed his cell phone, an old-fashioned flip phone.