Micco, Anguta's Reign by Dormaine G

Author:Dormaine G [G, Dormaine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Thrillers & Suspense, Suspense, Romance, Fantasy, Two Hours or More (65-100 Pages), Paranormal, Werewolves & Shifters
Amazon: B00O172ROK
Publisher: Dormaine G
Published: 2014-11-03T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 5

A few days had passed since being with Nara, and they still hadn’t spoken. He didn’t want to pressure her and also it was hard to see her with her husband; the scum of the earth. And to think, one day he would be Head Chief. Micco was curious to know all her secrets, which he assumed she didn’t share with her husband. Anyway, he had bigger fish to fry.

Murders.

The case was proving to be difficult, so Detective Boyles asked Micco to head back over to the crime scene with him. Boyles might be a shitty detective but at least he knows it. They worked the rooms one by one without any distractions this time.

The place had been aired out but not yet washed down since the case was still so new. The single merciful thing was there was only foulness in the air now and not the strong odor of a rotting meat locker. It would take more than one cleaning to get rid of all this blood. Truthfully, blood never fully went away. The surface area could be cleaned but it seeps in and clings for dear life underneath.

Micco kept rubbing his chest where the healing scratches lay, trying to understand that he was here, but still couldn’t remember a damned thing. That was not normally the case for Micco. He had a sharp mind.

Someone had to have slipped me a roofy. I need to slow it down.

Micco was standing in the room when he’d had the fit. He figured if he could only hear that same noise again or spend time in the room where his shirt had been, then maybe it would trigger something; anything.

Nothing.

The room was furnished with a cast iron bed, painted black dresser, and nightstand. The closet was fully stocked with black clothes. All black. Only two types of females wore all black: wannabe witches or those seeking attention. Witches don’t draw attention to themselves like this. They want to blend in.

Micco yelled to Boyles that he was heading downstairs to the basement when there was a knock at the front door.

“Hello.” It was an older lady, perhaps in her fifties. She was peering in, trying to catch a glimpse of what had occurred the other night.

“Can I help you?” Micco approached her, a little peeved that the cop guarding the front door was nowhere in sight.

“Are you trying to find clues to who could have done this?” she asked Micco.

“No, we’re here on a goddamned scavenger hunt,” Detective Boyles said, walking over from the living room. He was also annoyed that the cop assigned to the door had allowed a civilian through.

“Come on, Boyles. Ease up,” Micco retorted. Boyles waved his hands and walked off. His attitude was another reason why he sucked at his job. He was not a people person.

“He was a bit rude,” said the woman, now clearly insulted, half-deciding that she should leave. She toyed with her collar like a person does when offended.

“Please excuse him, he’s having a rough time with this.

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