Inquiring Minds and Death

By Patti Larsen

Now a fully licensed PI and working her own cases, Fee’s professional future comes into question once again with the discovery of an opponent’s body. She quickly uncovers ties to old crimes that could mean motive for murder, though her sympathies for the prime suspect could interfere with her ability to solve the crime...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patti Larsen
• Release date: Jan 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9781988700878

Patti Larsen

About me, huh? Well, my official bio reads like this: Patti Larsen is a multiple award-winning author with a passion for the voices in her head. But that sounds so freaking formal, doesn’t it? I’m a storyteller who hears character's demands so loudly I have to write them down. I love the idea of sports even though sports hate me. I’ve dabbled in everything from improv theater to film making and writing TV shows, singing in an all girl band to running my own hair salon.But always, always, writing books calls me home.I’ve had my sights set on world literary domination for a while now. Which means getting my books out there, to you, my darling readers. It’s the coolest thing ever, this job of mine, being able to tell stories I love, only to see them all shiny and happy in your hands... thank you for reading.As for the rest of it, I’m short (permanent), slightly round (changeable) and blonde (for ever and ever). I love to talk one on one about the deepest topics and can’t seem to stop seeing the big picture. I happily live on Prince Edward Island, Canada, home to Anne of Green Gables and the most beautiful red beaches in the world, with my pug overlord and overlady, six lazy cats and Gypsy Vanner gelding, Fynn.

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Inquiring Minds and Death

Fleming Investigations Cozy Mystery #2

Smashwords Edition

Patti Larsen

Copyright 2020 Patti Larsen

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Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to the vendor and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Chapter One

The dumpster stank far worse than expected, though I suppose I should have been prepared for the reek emanating from the interior of the dented and rusting metal bin waiting to be emptied. Though the office it served was strictly paper only, it seemed the local Italian restaurant decided their overflow refuse was a perfect fit for the gaps and spaces left by bags of discarded paperwork and cardboard. I tsked at both establishments and their lack of recycling, noting many empty cans, boxes and plastic bottles that should have been sorted more efficiently.

Not that I’d been demoted to the trash police, but come on, people. Take some responsibility every once in a while.

Delightful, this particular assignment, one I agreed to before realizing what it entailed. And while I was well aware of the fact sometimes I would have to get my hands dirty in this job, I had no idea I’d be gagging and cringing from things I wished I didn’t have to handle, gloves and rubber boots or not, in the search for the truth.

I thought I left the ick behind with Petunia’s.

A soft whuff of inquiry reminded me I wasn’t alone, that the dear old pug of the same name as my decimated B&B sat on her haunches, back legs stuck out between her front, watching me with curiosity and vague concern perhaps I’d lost my marbles.

Just looking for them now, I muttered to her. Be right with you.

I won’t call to mind some of the detritus I encountered, my hands itching almost immediately as the powder inside my blue gloves dried out my skin (just try calling me a princess) and the warmth of the September morning sun made sweat crawl down my forehead, the back of my neck and from behind my knees as I crouched in the garbage bin, bits of my hair clinging to the moisture, blowing at my bangs that needed a trim and likely red-faced from the effort, digging past last night’s servings of chicken Alfredo and garlic bread looking for evidence.

Glamor, thy name is Fiona Fleming, PI.

I paused when I finally reached a bag from the insurance office, panting a little from hauling it loose from the rest of the garbage. There was no guarantee I’d find what I was looking for, but I had a job to do and there were no depths, apparently, I wouldn’t sink to in order to serve my clients.

I’m sure he’s cheating. Madeline Narrow was an old friend from high school, a teacher at the local elementary and a truly sweet woman. I’d comforted her two days ago when she’d shown up, asking for my help, right after I’d been newly minted as a PI. How cool was that, my first case as a certified professional? I’d listened with sympathy as she told me about her husband of ten years, Colin, and his recent behavior. She’d met him while living in New Hampshire, moved back to Reading just last year. Ever since then, she said, he’d been growing more distant and spending a great deal of time away from home, especially at night. While he was busy at work, Madeline found enough clues and trusted her instincts sufficiently to bring her concerns to me.

I’d only met him twice since she’d returned to Reading with Colin in tow and never really liked him. The first time we’d met was on the street and he’d backed away from Petunia’s sweet greeting like she would give him the plague if she came any closer. Anyone who didn’t like dogs was suspect in my mind. And the second time? Upon being introduced to my loving Crew, turned up his nose at the fact my husband gave up his position with the FBI and the Reading Sheriff Department to be a (shudder, with tons of sarcasm) private detective.

Yeah. Colin Narrow was already in my black book.

Then again, I really had to keep my personal biases to myself. Especially since this honestly was my first real case, no chasing missing cats or uncovering girls eating profits at the local candy store. I chose to treat it with the weight and seriousness my client and old friend deserved.

I just need to know, Madeline had said, sitting across from me, dabbing at her eyes with the tissue I gave her from across my desk, nodding my compassion. Here’s his travel schedule. He said he was in these places the last month. I glanced at the list she handed me. But Karen Doyle swears she saw him in Montpelier when he was supposed to be in Boston, and he wasn’t alone.

My own history with a cheating ex weighing on me despite being married to the most amazing man on the planet, I accepted the gig and dove in headfirst, naturally. Took me two days to figure out Colin wasn’t going to talk to me without a lawyer present, so I decided the back door route might be the best bet.

On my darling Crew’s advice. Trash is fair game, he’d said last night. Be careful, but it’s amazing what people throw out.

He was right about that. I grunted as I tugged open the top of the black bag and peered inside with faint reluctance and a sense of foreboding. However, I was rewarded, not with rotting food, but papers, mostly shredded but some intact, and I took a moment to peruse the bits and pieces while Petunia hummed her unhappiness at being left to her own devices.

Mostly just client files, from what I could see, shredded sufficiently to protect privacy. I almost quit and dug for another bag when, to my delight, the final intact sheet on the very bottom, a wadded up piece of paper someone tossed casually into a trash can, delivered the jackpot.

A receipt for a hotel in Montpelier, dated when Colin was supposed to be in Boston. While it might have been innocent, the room service of dinner and breakfast, not to mention champagne, gave me what I needed. Idiot. Did he think throwing this away would save him? Looked like he paid cash, or his friend did, so he did think that.

Should have shredded the goods, Colin. Now it was Madeline’s turn to shred something.

I grinned at the dark joke, pulling out my phone and taking a snapshot of the bill, sending it immediately to my client while still hunched over in the dumpster. I wanted her to have it right away. The original I tucked neatly into a resealable plastic bag, black marker making note of the time, date and location of discovery, before slipping it into my hoodie pocket and making my ungraceful way out of the bin.

Naturally, I was just clearing the edge, stomach pressed to the lip, grunting as I swung my legs over, when the back door to the insurance office opened and the man himself exited. He stopped, frozen, a cigarette he’d been preparing to enjoy in one hand, lighter in the other, shirt-sleeves rolled up, tie askew, hazel eyes wide with surprise, faint pot belly bouncing beneath his pinstriped button up as he realized who I was and what I was up to.

His scowl was immediate, smoke break forgotten, though when he approached me with a threatening expression, rather unattractive face red with anger, I held up one gloved hand and waved.

Hey, Colin. Have a nice day. I already hooked Petunia’s leash with the other and turned, striding toward my car with confidence, not hurrying exactly, but not letting the lazy pug linger, either.

You can’t dig in my trash! Colin’s voice cracked.

Shouldn’t have cheated on your wife, I shot back over my shoulder.

I’ll have you arrested for trespassing. Sounded like he knew he was in trouble and threats were all he could muster. I didn’t slow, nor did I argue.

But I couldn’t resist a parting shot. Shame on you. I climbed into my car, adrenaline surging, heart pounding, knowing things could go one of two ways. He could back off and retreat, or come after me. I really didn’t want to have to deal with the latter. Gloves still on, I immediately locked the doors with us inside, grateful for power locks. It took a moment to settle Petunia, habit making hooking her harness to the belt a quick act, driving off while Colin stumbled toward me, clearly making up his mind to take action finally. I waved again, saw his mouth moving, knew he was likely swearing at me and not caring.

Did my job and proud of it.

Was I worried I was going to lose friends in Reading working local cases? Truth was, the cutest town in America was a bit of a cesspool and no one really liked anyone. Besides, the people I really cared about weren’t the type I needed to investigate, so the rest of them?

They could suck it.

My phone pinged and I checked it at the stop sign, surprised it wasn’t Madeline, as expected. Instead, it was a message from someone I wasn’t expecting and that made me even more curious.

In town a few days, Fleur King, investigative journalist and photographer sent. Can we meet? RRG office?

The Reading Reader Gazette office was once again under the control of Fleur’s old friend and colleague—and I suspected former lover—Pamela Shard. Naturally she’d be using it as her home base.

I pulled aside to let the car behind me go and stripped my gloves at last, typing a quick message back.

Give me an hour.

See you then, she shot quickly back.

Musing over what she might want, I headed for the office first to log my evidence, trying not to think about the shower that called my name.

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Chapter Two

Petunia panted her way through the front door of Fleming Investigations, released from her harness as I expertly pressed the single catch at the center of her shoulders, letting her walk out of the straps. Truthfully, I could have gotten away with no leash. She wouldn’t know what running away looked like. But I’d had enough issues over the years running the B&B of the same name and the ridiculous parking laws I didn’t feel like opening myself up to leash rules. While I doubted Jill or her new deputy, Kit Somersby, would bother enforcing the strict bylaw recently passed in town, I had zero doubt my disgusting cousin’s girlfriend, Deputy Rose Norton, wouldn’t hesitate to write me a ticket just to annoy me.

Would likely follow me around looking for reasons to cite me after that.

Not worth it. Besides, Petunia was so used to her leash being free of it out in the wild, wide world would likely end in her planting her fat butt on the pavement and refusing to move.

I watched her, heart heavy as it was these days when I let it, as she waddled away from me. She wasn’t getting any younger and her health was visibly declining. Thankfully, her usual b-line for her padded and rather luxurious bed next to my desk midway down the long, narrow space was cut short when she stopped to sit and look up at the two people standing in front of our receptionist, both a welcome distraction from where my mind had been heading without my permission. Toby Miller, our office manager poached from the sheriff’s department by my very own father (he had no qualms about taking those with him he adored, I’d discovered) nodded to me, her glasses catching the light, short, dark hair laced with gray brushing the collar of her fleece vest with her FI logo proudly worn over her heart.

I nodded back, offering a hand to the tall, broad-shouldered man with the physique of a football player who’d given up the gym, his thinning hair swept back from his lined forehead, dark eyes rather guarded though his big smile and firm handshake tried to cover for it.

You must be Fiona, he said, chuckling as he shook my hand. John’s told me all about you. A chip off the old Fleming block, I hear. He spoke firmly and at speed, like he was accustomed to dominating the conversation and didn’t require answers or responses past nods and smiles. His entire being screamed politician from the uber white smile to the manscaped haircut, manicure that left his skin softer than mine and pristine and expensive suit. Congratulations on your successes, my dear. I’m sure you’ll make the PI board proud with your accomplishments moving forward. Looking forward to hearing all about your career as it evolves.

Okay then. Rather familiar for someone I’d just met, but he obviously knew Dad, so I guess he felt the need to pretend we were friends, too. Yup, definitely a politician.

And you are? I smiled back, unable to shake the oily feeling I had from him. I wiped my hand secretly on my pants though I was much dirtier from being in the dumpster than he was in his three-piece suit and shiny shoes.

Kent Altemeyer, he said. Private Investigation board. I’m an old friend of your dad’s, Fiona. Confirmed that, though if he really did know Dad well, he’d call me Fee. My father never used my full name. Mom did, but only when she was mad at me. Fiona felt inauthentic. Kent likely tried too hard on a regular basis. He half turned and motioned to the young woman with him, her shining, dark hair in waves around her pretty face, hazel eyes fixed on me, faint smile showing she was hiding something. This is Tanya Vross, head of the investigation division.

Ms. Fleming. She shook my hand as well, hers firm but brief. She stood tall in her dark suit, though she was a head shorter than her boss, and clearly subordinate from her body language. A pleasure to meet you. Congratulations again on your successful application. She wrinkled her nose, a real smile rising. I see you’ve been taking full advantage of your new position?

I grinned, though my heart was actually doing a bit of a backflip in anxiety. Other people’s trash lead to client’s treasure, I said, tried a faint laugh. They laughed with me so my nerves weren’t showing. Apologies for the state of me. Had I known you were coming I would have avoided dumpster diving. Another laugh, though too polite, so I was the one trying too hard this time. May I ask why you’re here? Better to just get to the point and stop beating bushes while my heart did fluttering backstrokes between my ribs.

After all, Tanya had congratulated me, right? That meant whatever that jerk, Lance Dustin, said about