Boji Stones by Sandra Cox

Author:Sandra Cox
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Ellora's Cave Publishing Inc.
Published: 2012-05-15T05:00:00+00:00

* * * * *

Maureen smoothed the collar of her deep tomato red silk blouse as she studied her reflection in the mirror. Good color, she decided. The dark red brought out the honey tones of her skin. Should she leave off the gold chain? Was it too much? No, it added a touch of class. She just wasn’t much of a jewelry person, except of course for the amulet. She rubbed her left arm absently, missing the cool feel of the copper and the tranquility that flowed through her veins when she wore it. But enough of that. She plucked a white dog hair off her black tailored pants took one last look in the mirror then turned, her expression determined. Come hell or high water, she was getting her amulet back.

Taking a deep breath she walked out of the bedroom.

As Maureen clattered down the stairs, she saw Hank waiting at the bottom. Before he could ask, she said, “I’ll be at The Olive Grove and I have my cell.”

“Don’t drink too much. You’ll be driving and alcohol always loosens your tongue. Remember you are there to get information not spill your guts.”

She kissed his cheek. “Yes, mamma.”

He shook his head. “You always did have a smart mouth on you.”

“Learned everything I know from my best pal.” She flashed him a grin and headed out the door.

Wolf lay on the veranda, his head on his paws. Seeing Maureen, he got up, hitched his hind-end in the air in a stretch then followed her to the truck.

Patting him on the head, she opened the cab door, climbed in, revved the engine and was on her way.

She pulled into the parking lot behind the restaurant at the same time Tony did.

The detective got out of his car, came around and opened the door. He wore tan khakis, a brown silk shirt that darkened his chocolate eyes and a gold chain, much like her own only a bit thicker and more masculine.

She pushed back a picture of another pair of brown eyes filled with kindness as he helped her deliver a foal. Lies all lies.

As she slid out of the cab, Tony looked her over appreciatively. He lifted her necklace with his index finger, let it go and pointed to his own. “I see we have a link between us.”

She bit back a laugh and groaned. “Detective Cardoza, that was bad.”

He laughed. “Tony please.”

“Tony.”

He tucked her hand through his arm and they walked into the restaurant.

As Tony opened the door, she breathed in the mouthwatering smell of pasta sauce and garlic. Lighted candles in wicker-covered wine bottles sat on red-and-white-checked tablecloths.

The maître d’, a short thin man with a black mustache, hurried forward swiping at imaginary lint on his spotless white shirt. “Ms. Sinclair, so good to see you again. And where is Hank?”

“It’s good to see you too, Nicholas. Hank is holding down the fort.”

Nicholas studied Tony with unabashed curiosity.

“Nicholas, this is my friend, Detective Tony Cardoza.”

Nicholas grabbed Tony’s hand and pumped.

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