The Pumpkin Seed Massacre by Susan Slater

Author:Susan Slater
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: small town, serial killer, amateur sleuth, new mexico, political corruption, indian casino, indian pueblo, first book in mystery series, american indian mysteries, native american protagonist
Publisher: Columbine Publishing Group, LLC

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“This way, Governor Yepa.” The psychologist held open the door to his office. Johnson wished the man didn’t look like Bob Newhart, but he followed him inside.

“This must be a very stressful time for you. I’m sure your duties as governor take you away from your family.” The psychologist sat looking at him. Was he supposed to comment? Johnson didn’t know. “Your wife shared with me that the two of you seem to be having difficulties. I think that’s what we should talk about today. I want to assure you that I listen to both sides and will work with each of you, but I can’t rekindle any flames if the fire has gone out.” The man looked at him expectantly.

Johnson looked at the floor. Maybe if he acted contrite, concerned, anxious to be helpful. Maybe if he told the truth. Nancy’s well-endowed figure blurred his vision. He shook his head. Better. The desk and psychologist were sharply in focus now.

“I’m not sure what my wife has told you ... maybe something about another woman?” Johnson waited but the doc was noncommittal—not a nod, not a shake of the head, nothing—just that patient waiting.

“Well, Doc, you know how it is. A man needs to keep his blood young.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“The warrior after battle, the hunter after the hunt; there’s a need to refuel, to be with a maiden and replenish the source of one’s manhood.”

The doctor pursed his mouth, frowned slightly as if in thought, then relaxed, never taking his eyes off of Johnson.

“I thought the pueblo people were farmers,” he said.

Johnson paused. He wasn’t going to get by with anything. He would have to regroup and try to cut this meeting short.

“You know, Doc, I’m probably just wasting your time. My wife and I have talked, and we think she’s going to be okay. I would have cancelled today, but I wanted to stop by and say thanks. That meeting with her last week really helped.” Johnson stood and moved toward the door. The psychologist remained seated.

“If you change your mind and would like to talk, just make an appointment with my secretary.”

Johnson nodded, backed out of the office, pulling the door shut after him, and bolted for the back door of the hospital. If he was lucky, he’d find Nancy alone in the lab. He wondered how far he could go with her. He could probably work a hand up under her t-shirt and cop a good feel. Maybe even push the cotton fabric up to her neck and bury his face in the scent of floral and warm flesh. The idea was almost too much for him and he reached the door of the lab, sticky with perspiration that made his crotch itch.

“Hi. I’m Dave. You’re the Gov, right? Nancy said you might drop by. Hey, Nancy, your friend’s here.”

Johnson followed him into the lab and fought an urge to scratch.

Nancy was beaming as she held out her hand.

“I was hoping you’d stop by today.

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