Tejon Trouble

By Ziva Bristow

From murder to terrorism, the atmospheric instability of humanity, keeps the Met in business. Granted, her glam day job as a Miami concierge-caster pays the bills, but the entropy of crime fuels her passion. And now, it's personal. She ignored the cryptic pictogram for too long, and her brother, who lives in a fantasy world due to years of drug use, is caught up in a squall line of deadly treachery!
The Met's brother is the Tejon. He sees people as animals and communicates through sketches and pantomime acting. The variables are immense, but the facts stand. Someone’s got the tejon by the tail. He's lost his job, his shelter, his mind? Or is the tejon trouble just a plot point on an insidious skew-T of diabolical intent by unknown entities? After all, in the Met's dual world where umbrellas are more often ricin-tipped, than not, the stakes of accuracy are stratospheric---especially when lives are on the line!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ziva Bristow
• Release date: Feb 29, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310586798

Book preview

TEJON TROUBLE

Met Mystery Series

By Ziva Bristow

Copywright 2016

Smashwords Edition

This is a work of fiction, names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademarked owners of the following word marks mentioned in this work of fiction: Key West, South Beach Food & Wine Festival, The Beatles Yellow Submarine, Barry White, Neil Young, Santana Supernatural, Bob Dylan, The Last Samurai, Ace Ventura, Dolce & Gabbana, Fiji Water.

TEJON TROUBLE

Chapter One

Tejon

They all live in a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine! The acoustics under the sea-grape canopy echoed with a syncopation of gull cries and weak breakers. Beady black crab eyes stared a beat at the lava-red hibiscus flip flops hovering over its sandy tunnels. Good morning, good morning, good morning! Crepuscular sun beams soaked into the army-green trash cart rubber and a leathery, sea-weathered hand tingled as it pushed.

Itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spout, down came the Clorox to wash the spider out…he,he, he! The mobile waste bin burst through the mangrove shelter, startling a rookery of sand pipers that scurried with the zeal of key lime zest on an otherwise placid pie crust.

Psst… As if on cue, a sticky iguana tongue licked up a dragonfly in mid-air.

Well, hello Raisin! A Barry White bass chuckle, incongruent with the skinny diaphragm from which it emanated, boomed almost as far as the three mile platform offshore. Long reptilian talons scraped the terrain keeping up easily with the fishing line leashing it to its owner.

I wonder if the kinks or cobybara are down under! Oh yeah! (like that wrestler). The wheels clicked across the tiny shells toward the office.

Sitting on the dock of the bay, I’ll be sitting just to protect-away…. One weathered paw caressed the straggly, blond, Spanish-moss-like spirals of his beard cautiously. Snakehead razors—uh-uh—Snakehead chameleons…oh Boy George, sharp and sneaky Karma—ugh-uh…

Raisin seemed to glower at the Sandbar Base, the lizard exposed more than naturally comfortable, as its scruffy, yet soft primary food source picked up the perimeter, filling the cart. "Oooh, they filling da lungs…just