Night Shroud: Blue Moon Investigations: Boston Book 3 by Justin Herzog & Steve Higgs

Author:Justin Herzog & Steve Higgs [Herzog, Justin & Higgs, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-10-12T16:00:00+00:00

MIT Dormitories. April 15th 1747hrs

I headed for my apartment, parking along the curb and running inside while Patience waited in the car. Yosemite was up and about, running loops on his hamster wheel, and I made some encouraging noises and double-checked his food before slipping into the kitchen and withdrawing two boxes of cream pies. Both had come with obscene notes attached, but I’d burned them in the street, refusing to let such filth cross my doorstep. The pies, however, were from a reputable bakery in the city, and had been delivered sealed and untouched. I balanced them in one hand as I locked up my door and made my way back out to the car, opening the door and dropping them down into Patience’s lap.

“Oh, hey now,” Patience said. “What’s all this?”

“Probably as close to dinner as we’re going to get tonight,” I said. “Hopefully it’s enough to hold you over.”

“We’ll just see about that,” Patience said. She seized the first box, and unwrapped the sealing foil, using the plastic utensil to cut herself a large slice before lifting it from the holder and taking a bite. She chewed thoughtfully for a second before a slow smile split her face. “It’s cake!”

“Technically, it’s pie.”

“Girl, please,” she said. “I know my sweets, and this is a cake with custard filling.”

I inclined my head, acquiescing the point. “So, we’re good?”

She nodded and made an agreeable sound, already on her second bite. “You want some?” she asked.

I shivered and shook my head, having already eaten my bodyweight in cream pies over the past few weeks. Honestly, it was a miracle my teeth weren’t falling out, and I didn’t even want to think about my next cleaning.

“You buy these in bulk?” Patience asked.

“Not exactly,” I said. “The Boston Globe ran a piece about me in the newspaper a few weeks back. Ever since, people have been sending them in left and right.”

“Darn, girl. Sign me up for that program. I’ve a mind to take some of these home with me.”

“You’re more than welcome to them,” I said. “As many as you can fit on the plane.”

Patience gave me a sideways glance, possibly thinking I was mocking her, but my face stayed smooth and she gave a soft grunt after a moment. “You know what? I may have misjudged you, Chloe. You’re alright.”

“Thanks, Patience,” I said. “That means a lot.”

“So where we going?”

“The Massachusetts Institute of Technology.”

“The college?” she asked. “Why?”

“Because that’s where Jenni Sexton lived,” I said, and held up the piece of paper Ambretta had given me.

Traffic picked up as the sun began to descend, the inevitable rush-hour mass slowing our pace to a crawl as we made our way through Back Bay and across the Harvard Bridge. I resisted the urge to activate my lights and sirens, and forced myself not to weave in and out of the lanes as we inched our way closer to the university.

First established in 1861, the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, commonly referred to by its

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