Core Values

By Suzanne Dome

Missing persons, poachers, harassing letters, and now murder. Detective Trotter pieces together these mysteries in a small town, right around Thanksgiving.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Suzanne Dome
• Release date: Dec 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005697907

Suzanne Dome

Suzanne Dome was a special ed para for years, and supports STEM education. Now a resident of rural New Mexico, she wrangles chickens when not writing or crafting. Seamstress, jeweler, artist, diabetic, tree-hugging, star-gazing, crystal-gripping Bohemian, in black.Short Stories: Last Star, Tree Row Howl, BOOMER, SaviorWork available in print(Amazon): Weird Wheat; The Scrounger Trilogy: Empty Space, Second Signal, End Transmission, Lotus of the Stars, The Hoof of Nessus, Derelict Passage, Welcome to the Mutineer's Odyssey

Book preview

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Core Values

Suzanne Dome

©2022

Main Street was unusually quiet, though the occasional shopper ducked into one boutique or another. Overcast skies enhanced the rust of turning trees, their leaves collected in street gutters and drains. A gray sedan crushed leaves to stained fragments as it parked in front of Tom’s Grocery. Detective Trotter, all of 53, hauled himself from his car and swore. A stiff breeze slapped at uncovered flesh. The car door slammed harder than he intended, and a patron of the grocery store winced. He nodded and smiled disarmingly at them, but they hurried onward as if pushed by the crackled leaves tumbling down Main St. He squinted in the overcast light and rubbed his mustachio as he marched around the side of the building to the alley.

Officers Dezos and Hunter stood in their jackets and gear while the crime scene technician took photographs. The men pantomimed the woman’s large rump, chuckled, and elbowed each other. Trotter cleared his throat and glanced at the younger men disapprovingly as he stepped carefully to where Lydia finally stood. She stared forlornly down at the body on the asphalt, lying in a puddle of rancid fluid leaking from the grocery store dumpster. It matted her curly black hair. The alley would usually be somewhat dark, but that was the trick of an overcast sky; shadows tucked themselves away.

"Where’s the markers? Did you two do anything?" Trotter grumbled.

Dezos coughed. Detective…there didn’t appear to be anything to mark.’

Lydia made a face. There’s a blood drop over there, by Hunter’s foot. I took a picture after I swabbed it.

Thanks Lydia. Detective Trotter