Wash Forbidden Fruit: The Alcrest Stories

By Lorne Oliver

Her life may be falling apart but Homicide Detective Zoe "Wash" Washburn would never let that get in the way of a case. A murdered escort with a patch of skin missing is just what the doctor ordered.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lorne Oliver
• Release date: Feb 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9780994030993

Book preview

Lorne Oliver

WASH FORBIDDEN FRUIT

Copyright © 2018 by Lorne Oliver

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

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission from the author.

ISBN:  978-0-9940309-9-3

To

The Inspirations

FORBIDDEN FRUIT

Something which is desired, but should not be attained

One

Oh shit! Zoe Washburn thumbed the attachment on the text.  In seconds a picture overtook the phone screen.  Fuck me!

What is it?

Wash (she had been called that since high school) looked up at her friend, quickly put her phone face down on the table and shook her head.  Her blond hair swayed back and forth over her shoulders.  You don’t want to know.  She took another look and said, I have to go.

Go? You can’t go.  This whole night was your idea.

I know, but this is important.

So is getting shit-faced.

What’s going on?  A third woman slipped onto one of the high chairs around the small table.  Her tiny skirt rode up her thighs.  Sweat glistened on her body from dancing to techno.  She grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the perspiration on her chest losing some of the glitter in the process.

Zoe says she has to go.  Music pounded forcing them to yell at each other. 

It’s a work thing.  Wash took a credit card from her blouse pocket and slipped it across the table.  This night is still on Mark, like he promised.  I’m going to go to this crime scene and if I can I’ll be back.  Even she didn’t believe it.

What scene?  The other woman took the credit card and slipped it in her bra which was overflowing.

She got a text with pictures.

What did they send you?  Let’s see.

Wash pushed her wine glass away as she slipped form her chair.  Six inch heels meant she could stand straight up with little drop.  You really don’t want to see it.  I’ll go, you guys stay.  Let my husband pay for everything as planned.  Enjoy the hotel room and I’ll be back if I can.

Show us.

No.

Zoe, show us or we take the card and buy a car.  A little sporty foreign job.

And strippers.

The police detective rolled her eyes.  Wash knew she shouldn’t, but also knew it would get her out faster.  Fine.  And there isn’t enough on that card for any of that.  She brought the picture up and turned her phone to them.

One squealed.  The other said, Fuck you, Zoe, and looked away with her hand over her mouth.

Wash couldn’t help the smirk across her thin lips.  I warned you.

You’re an asshole.

Two

Hey Bell, Wash stepped up beside the other police detective.  Both stared at what was center stage in the hotel room.  What do we have?

What’s up, Wash?  Dead girl with a skinned patch.  Multiple stab wounds.  You dress up for us?

The corner of her lip twitched.  She hadn’t even realized the man had looked at her.  Wash wasn’t a stunner, however with mile long legs, silky blond hair and even her rectangular glasses people didn’t mind a second look.  She wore her favorite skinny jeans and a sheer black top with off the shoulder sleeves.  A midnight under-bust was over the top keeping her waist cinched in and her chest accentuated.  She said, This smelled the least, about the outfit – most of which she bought that afternoon.  What’s her story?

With that attention was returned to the star of the room.  The hotel suite, much like the one Wash’ husband booked for she and her friends, had a living area and side bedroom.  The victim was sitting upright and backward on a wood framed chair with her back to