Till Death by Annette Dashofy

Author:Annette Dashofy [Dashofy, Annette]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: cozy mystery;cozy mystery series;women sleuths
ISBN: 9781635116236
Publisher: Henery Press
Published: 2020-04-03T16:42:31+00:00

One thing Zoe’s new office had going for it was the quiet. Paulette made handprinted signs and taped them to the door, inside the elevator, and next to the building directory in the lobby, but so far, people weren’t dying to find the coroner’s office.

Zoe winced at the memory of Franklin’s voice and old joke.

Paulette left to meet Lauren, making it even quieter. Alone, Zoe untangled the knot of cables and cords to reconnect the pair of computers. One for her. One for Paulette.

Zoe flinched at a soft thud and flutter. She spun toward the lone window to find a pigeon on the exterior sill. It stared at her through the streaked window as if wondering what the hell this human was doing, invading the bird’s private space.

“Hi,” Zoe said to the miffed-looking mass of feathers. “Sorry if my company annoys you. I hope to be only a temporary visitor.”

It continued to watch her accusingly. Which led her to conclude there was such a thing as too quiet. She skimmed through her phone to find the head-pounding playlist she’d created for late hours at the farm when she’d been getting the house ready for habitation. Not only did the hard-driving music keep her awake and working, but it blocked all the things that went bump in the night. She set the phone on the windowsill, thinking the beat might scare away the pigeon.

But, apparently, it liked rock.

Humming along to the tune, Zoe positioned a computer tower beneath the dented and marred gray metal desk she’d claimed as her own. She crawled under it, wishing she’d mopped the grimy linoleum before starting the task, and sat, hunched and cross-legged, sorting out the connections.

Rocking to the beat, she didn’t hear the approaching footsteps. The fist pounding on the open door startled her half out of her skin. Rearing up, she banged her head on the desk and wasn’t sure if the boom was part of the song’s crescendo, a new dent in the gray metal, or the sound of her brain bouncing inside her skull.

“Are you okay?” Pete’s chuckle made the inquiry lack sincerity.

She backed out on her knees, her head aching, and pushed up to stand. “No. Don’t surprise me like that.”

He entered, lugging a box. “I called out, but you must not have heard me over the music.”

Rubbing her head and wondering if she had a concussion, Zoe crossed to the window—the pigeon had flown the coop—and hit pause on her phone. “It was too quiet.”

“I thought you liked quiet.”

“On the farm, yes. That’s peaceful. In a hundred-plus-year-old building, on a floor that’s otherwise deserted? Not so much.”

He looked around. “I like what you’ve done with the place,” he said, heavy on the sarcasm.

“You’re not funny.”

Pete jiggled the box. “Where do you want this?”

“Anywhere. I’m not planning to unpack much. Paulette’s trying to get us a real office in the Courthouse Annex.”

He thunked the box on top of another. “Speaking of Paulette, where is she?”

“Having lunch with Lauren Sanders.” At his raised eyebrow, Zoe explained about Lauren’s proposed tribute.

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