Murder and Masterpieces: A Sadie Stewart Cozy Mystery by Dayton L.B

Author:Dayton, L.B.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2024-11-09T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9: A Viper's Hiss

"Don't you worry about it," Houston's voice drifts through the door. "Stop looking at me like that. It's not like you can be trusted in the first place—you were about to go squeal faster than you could even before listening to the situation. It's a lot more complex than it seems."

Sadie silently slips past through the door into the storage hut. Although the place seems fairly small from the outside, the little hut has a steep set of steel steps descending into a larger maintenance room underground. The place glows with cold, fluorescent light and smells strongly of chlorine and cleaning material. The top hut that Sadie is in currently is occupied with gardening and landscaping equipment, as well as what seems to be extra supplies for the spa in bulk packages. Various soaps, massage oils, boxes of a variety of colorful nail polishes, along with a small army of different detergents and disinfectants.

Crouching to look down into the underground section without needing to descend the steps, Sadie peeks into the brightly lit space. Her eyes take a moment to adjust, before seeing Quincy—still in his chef uniform—with his ankles and wrists tied to a metal chair. A gag sits securely and tightly in his mouth. His broad frame is upright and laser-focused on every movement Houston makes, frowning savagely at the man as he tries tugging at his bonds.

Sadie notices that this lower section of the maintenance room holds a water purification system and tons of pipes that likely allow for the heated swimming pool and hot tubs to run smoothly.

"I'm kinda sorry, okay? I have to admit it. My wife made a mistake, and I'm sort of expected to clean it up for her now. I think she thinks it's really the least I can do since I have spent these last few months in a bit of a slump." He laughs hollowly, kicking over something that skitters over the concrete floor noisily. The sound makes Sadie flinch. She clamps her hand over her mouth to keep her breathing quiet. Gripped in her other hand is the padlock from the door: heavy and the size of her palm.

Pity she doesn't have any of the plethora of self-defense weapons that she has started carrying as a habit in Chicago on her at the moment. She has unintentionally started forming a small arsenal, accidentally ignited by JD's tongue-in-cheek gift of a multi-tool with a small blade and a lock picking attachment. The palm-sized stun gun she recently acquired would have really come in handy right now. The retainer said it is strong enough to put down a healthy horse (with no explanation as to why anyone would think about doing such a thing), but it is exactly why she has to get a license just to own it.

She absently curses herself for thinking that anywhere is safe since she has stepped into the world of art crime for the first time.

Daniel carries the burn scars from that hard lesson on his skin every day—proof to himself of the value of art.

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