Soul Makers: Golden City Mystery, #1

By J. Guibone

Set in the urban streets of Cagayan de Oro City, Philippines:

Sabrina told Bart not to do it, but he had. Now Bart is missing. And there's a corpse in his apartment. Sabrina has no other choice but to solve all the clues he left behind, without getting arrested for trespassing, while keeping her OCD under control.

Newly minted NBI Special Investigator Lyla Dixon doesn't expect to meet her old flame, now private investigator, Hans Blanco at the crime scene. But when the crime reveals more questions than answers, they both have to put aside old hurts and work with someone they're not even sure they should trust, the enigmatic Sabrina Eugenio, if they're to have a shot at finding a killer they never thought they'd ever encounter.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. Guibone
• Release date: Jun 25, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533795243

Book preview

Chapter 1

AN ORDINARY TWENTY-one-year-old college student wouldn’t have taken an online crash course on lock-picking. An ordinary sophomore wouldn’t even be sneaking into a young man’s apartment in the middle of the night.

But tonight, it was more than just her obsessive-compulsive disorder that set Sabrina apart from most young women she knew. Her best friend was in trouble. Ergo, she had a very valid reason for trespassing.

Bart, she called, breath ghosting over the darkened window.

A tricycle roared by, and she ducked behind the potted plants that dotted the entrance to Bart’s apartment.

She pressed her lips together and pushed open the door, glad her picks worked, yet frustrated that Bart hadn’t installed two more locks. How many times had she told him to make sure all his locks could keep out criminals? What if she were a thief? A cold-blooded murderer?

Cagayan de Oro wasn’t exactly a safe place, despite its golden name. Sabrina was about to call Bart again, when she slipped on something. Her first thought was of killing her best friend. Didn’t he know what a mop was? What if someone had slid on this and broken their neck?

But when she brought her wet hands to her face, she recoiled. It smelled like rust, like iron...

Oh my God.

She closed her mouth, gritted her teeth, and fished for her cell phone. She flashed a light down her front.

Her hands, her jacket, her jeans, her sneakers - all drenched in scarlet. Her eyes followed the trail of blood, and just a mere inch from her was the open-mouthed, wide-eyed corpse of a man.

LYLA DIXON GULPED DOWN an Advil tablet with the bottled water she’d bought at the closest 24/7 store. She capped it and tossed it on the passenger seat before stepping out of her red Toyota.

As expected, the crime scene was surrounded by half-asleep neighbors and passers-by. She approached uniformed officers, who tried to back the onlookers away from the apartment.

NBI Special Investigator Lyla Dixon. She flashed her ID at the stunned officer.

FBI? He asked, eyes wide, and head bobbing up and down to look at Lyla from head to foot. She sighed. Everywhere she went, her African-American features garnered confused, curious, and astonished looks.

NBI, she repeated. Attorney Bernardo Torres sent me to help.

The younger man shook his head. We haven’t even identified the body yet. Why’s the NBI interested?

Just a small favor, said a voice from behind.

Chief, the young man greeted.

The older man, Chief Felipe Ramirez, patted the officer’s shoulder. I’ll take it from here, Renz.

The chief, his wrinkled face marked with spots, extended a hand towards her. Lyla. So you drew the short straw, huh?

Lyla shrugged, then grinned. Good timing, I guess. So, what happened here?

The older man hefted his potbelly, as if his back had grown strained carrying the weight of his stomach. Homicide. He gestured at the second floor of a duplex, where police officers were walking in and out of, making sure no one else could disturb the scene.

Middle-aged Caucasian man. Stabbed multiple times. Ligature marks on his wrists, legs, and neck.

Rope burns. Strangled and stabbed. Who found him?

That girl over there, Sabrina Eugenio.

Lyla turned to where the older man pointed. A young woman, probably in her twenties, was clutching an older woman who turned tear-stricken face at one of the officers.

What was she doing here?

The chief sighed. According to her, her best friend wasn’t answering her texts and calls, so she wanted to check if something happened to him.

Her best friend’s a middle-aged Caucasian man? Lyla folded her arms against her chest in confusion and in an effort to ward off the cold that seeped into her bones despite her dark denim jacket.

Her best friend’s Bart Sia, the one who rented this apartment.

Where is he?

Gone.

Lyla sucked in a deep breath. He fled?

The chief’s eyes darted from side to side, before pulling Lyla a few feet away from the crowd and the building. "We’ve no clue who the victim is, and we can’t move the body