Dead as a Doornail by Patti Larsen

Author:Patti Larsen [Larsen, Patti]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, Cozy, General
ISBN: 9781989925317
Google: gMqjzgEACAAJ
Amazon: B09673SRYC
Publisher: Patti Larsen Books/Mayhem and Murder Ink
Published: 2021-05-28T22:00:00+00:00

***

Chapter Fifteen

The fact I’d just had two possible sources of pentobarbital dropped in my lap in the matter of one short conversation wasn’t something I wanted to share with Martin Hynes. After all, basic investigation would have revealed those details, more than likely, and I’d apparently instead been running around without the full picture, wrapped up in my feelings like an amateur instead of the practiced inquisitor I claimed to be.

Really, Georgia, letting your heart smother your common sense. What would Elias think?

“Has the family’s lawyer arrived from the mainland yet?” I needed to refocus, shake off the emotional attachment I was feeling, the concern for Sam’s wellbeing and get back to the real job, finding out who killed Anthony Buck and why. Staring with his own wife and son.

“Not yet,” Martin said, hands now in his pockets, broad shoulders slumped. “I figure a warrant might be a good idea at this point, though, detective.”

Ah yes, normal humans and their pieces of paper with judge’s names written on them. Under typical inquisitor circumstances, all I would have needed was a Guild Nemesis nod, the magic of that organization satisfying everyone’s demands for honest investigation. This penchant for needing things in writing I found frustrating, but conforming was key, ultimately.

Just keep telling yourself that, Georgia Drake.

I parted ways with Martin, a call to Harriet revealing she, at least, wasn’t so captivated with feelings and hormones she’d dropped her particular dragon egg.

“I’m picking up a warrant to search the hotel suites now,” she said. “Tried to get one last night, but you know Judge Grundle.” She snorted like I should get the joke, realized it was the same justice who’d supported her predecessor with perhaps good intentions but not always the full details or proper evidence behind his rulings. “Had to have his shut eye and breakfast waffles first.”

Harriet picked me up moments later outside the sheriff’s office door, and while it had been tempting while I waited for her to arrive to slip into the pottery shop and check on Jo (oh, Georgia, you mean Sam), I resisted, even when Benjamin’s sad mood lingered and made him sigh.

“We have a job to do,” I whispered to him as Harriet pulled up. “Or are you going home?” It came out much more harshly than I’d expected, aimed at myself, naturally, not the sweet dog at my side. But before I could apologize and reassure him, he snapped to attention.

Of course, Mother, he sent. I’m being silly. Sam will be fine and so will Jo. We have a murderer to apprehend and injustice to uncover. I’m here for you, I promise. Don’t send me home. That last came out in a soft whine on the outside, the mastiff licking my hand, ears down, while I bent and hugged him.

I’m sorry, Benny, I sent. This isn’t your fault. You care so much. I’m mad at myself, not you. Once this is all over, we’ll talk about Sam, okay?

Benjamin licked his chops, tail wagging a little.

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