GUTTED a gripping crime thriller full of twists (Detective Tracy Collier Book 1) by Emmy Ellis

Author:Emmy Ellis [Ellis, Emmy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Joffe Books Mystery, Crime Thriller, Suspense
Published: 2024-04-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

“You do realise I can’t shit wonders and piss miracles, don’t you, Tracy?” Kathy studied her, pages of reports held at chest height, her eyes wide and glaring.

She’ll have an aneurism in a minute if she isn’t careful.

Tracy was about to say as much but stopped herself. Didn’t seem the dark joke would wash with her colleague today.

Colleague. Is that how I see her now?

“God,” she said, “I only asked if you had anything on Mr Parks yet. If I’d wanted to know about Mr Quinton, then you might be able to chew my arse.”

Kathy blushed, bright red spots on her prominent cheekbones, purple on the outside, reminding Tracy of a corona around the sun. Something had chapped Kathy’s nipples, and it wouldn’t be long before she said what it was if she stayed true to form.

“Why are you even bothering me in person?” Kathy asked. “A phone call would’ve been enough. You don’t usually come down here, where the stink of death gets in your precious hair.” She flung the papers onto her desk. A few left the sheaf and flew up, then gracefully fluttered to the floor, landing in a random pattern, inches apart. “Great, now I’m going to have to put them in order again. Thanks for that.”

“What? Not my fault. Something you need to get off your chest, is there? Or is it the fact you want something on your chest — namely a man’s mouth — that has you so worked up?”

Kathy threw her head back and laughed — hard — but Tracy doubted it was because she’d said something funny. This was a reaction hiding a deeper problem. Tracy would give her five minutes to spit it out, and if she didn’t, Kathy could wallow in her own shit.

“I’m ‘worked up’, as you put it, because I’m overburdened and underpaid, I have no boyfriend — again — there are bills to pay, the car’s broken down — apparently needs a new carburettor or some bollocks like that — and I’ve put on eighteen pounds. My favourite red dress no longer fits me; I’m spilling out of the damn thing, for Pete’s sake. Do I need to go on?”

Tracy frowned. It had only been recently Kathy had a bee in her bonnet, so had her life gone downhill in the last few days?

“I’d say I’d give you a shoulder to cry on, but I need one myself.” Tracy had done it again — brought herself into the equation when someone else had a problem, switching it around so it became all about her. She had to get out of that habit. It was a bastard thing to do.

Kathy dropped to her knees to pick up the fallen papers. “You, Miss Got-It-Together, needs a shoulder to cry on? Since when has that happened? When did your halo go skew-whiff, Perfect Penny?”

Kathy’s passive-aggressive jibes were wearing thin. She was a perfect candidate for Facebook, slinging up memes that said one thing but meant another.

Tracy sighed. “You know me, I grin and bear it.

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