The Man for the Job by Marie-Nicole Ryan

Author:Marie-Nicole Ryan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wings ePress Books

Twenty-seven

Powatchee County Detective Moira McKenzie drove along the winding, narrow road and grumbled under her breath. “Of all nights for Sheriff Bauer to call me out. And on a murder, no less.” It was bad enough that her less-than-exciting evening of oven-cleaning and hair-coloring had been spoiled, but the slimy slug of a chauvinist was making a point of attending the scene as well. ‘Lots of important people at a dinner party. Need a female along.'

Holy shit. Bauer hated having women in the Sheriff's Department, and he especially hated her. He showed it by being as obnoxious and misogynistic as possible.

Just because these people were rich and important, he'd dragged her out. Not that she was all that crazy about cleaning ovens, but coloring her hair—that was a different matter. She had a date Saturday night with the tallest deputy in the sheriff's office—the only one who wasn't fifty-something and running to fat. So it was absolutely vital that she annihilate every white hair in her black-already-turning-prematurely-gray hair.

Damn. Silver-white hair looked fine on her Dad and on her older sister Siobhan, but Moira would be damned if she'd let her hair turn white before she landed a husband. At least that's what her mother said ad nauseam. And she always listened to her mother.

McKenzie pulled up to the gate. She flashed her badge and told the black-suited guard, holding a weapon sufficient for elephant hunting and barring her way, “Detective McKenzie. This the Carlton’ estate?"

"Yes, ma'am, go on in. Sheriff's already here."

"Thanks.” The gate opened, and McKenzie drove through it. Damn. Bone-head Bauer was ahead of her. He'd be sure to give her an extra measure of his special brand of torment. Needless to say, the leading lawman of Powatchee County wasn't up to speed on the finer points of sexual harassment. The upshot of putting up with his guff was that she didn't plan on spending much more time in Powatchee County Sheriff's Department.

No indeed, she had her eye on a bigger pond where her experience in law enforcement would look good on her résumé. Period.

She drove up the winding drive to the Carltons’ neo-fake, Tudor monstrosity with enough room to house five families, which to her mind was totally wasted on an old man in a wheelchair and his pretentious crone of a wife, who occasionally deigned to open the county fair as a demonstration of noblesse oblige. Other than appearing at the flower shows, the grand dame didn't waste her time with the locals. The old man was supposed to be a retired spook from the CIA. Moira hadn't heard much about the son, but local wisdom had it that he preferred to live in New York City and that the parents preferred it, too.

She pulled into a space next to the sheriff's car, shut off the motor and opened her car door, making sure it banged into the side of his. She smiled. Make that one for the home team.

She strode across the pea-gravel drive to the front door.

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