Sin and Tonic

By Patti Larsen

With Bruno’s ownership in question and a giant inheritance to be had, Becks finds herself in the middle of a fight for the mastiff she’s fallen in love with. Speaking of which, the arrival on the key of Sergeant Jamie Borden is complicating matters because she’s supposed to be focusing on Bruno, not how she feels about the handsome Chicago officer. But when one of those claiming the big dog is theirs turns up murdered and Bruno is the one to find them, Becks now has a homicide investigation to consider as she worries that the dog she adores will end up the next victim...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patti Larsen
• Release date: Oct 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9781998948154

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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Sin and Tonic

Canary Key Cozy Mysteries: Five

Smashwords Edition

Patti Larsen

Copyright 2023 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

Bruno looked up at me, panting gently and smiling in such a trusting manner I felt myself choking up, forced to look away. Which only made things worse since doing so reminded me where I was and why I found myself, my adopted mastiff on a leash in hand, in the police chief’s office.

At least my dear friend and said commander of Canary Key’s force, Allie Crown, was on my side. She was the only one in the room, however, who appeared to be, the others crowding her office talking over one another and trying to gain her attention while she did her best to silence them with very little success.

You’re wondering how I got from my bar at Off Key to this very place, I imagine, with the normally wanderlusting brindle mutt I adored so much actually tethered to me instead of living his best Bruno life out there on the beaches he called home. I’ll do my best to explain.

See, as soon as the pair of interlopers appeared, interrupting my truly joyful moment of surprise at meeting my friend (and maybe more than a friend), Sergent Jamie Borden, everything came crashing down. I’d already suspected the people I’d spotted lurking and taking photos of Bruno might try something like claiming he was theirs, but the last thing I expected was the truth.

Enough! Allie was at the end of her own rope and barked that order even as Bruno whined softly and leaned into me, licking his chops, showing his very first sign of anxiety. The typically laid-back beast was the calmest dog I’d ever met and adored everyone who adored him right back. Seeing him upset, shuffling his front paws and letting out a meowing yawn of stress jerked me out of feeling sorry for myself and pushed me firmly into defensive mode while Allie went on. The next person to speak without being invited to will find themselves in the cells downstairs cooling off until I decide otherwise.

While not technically legal and reasonably unlikely, the collective of accusers fell silent. Since they didn’t know Allie like I did and that the mostly by-the-book former LA homicide detective wouldn’t risk a lawsuit over unlawful confinement charges, no one in the room except us appeared to understand her threat was an empty one.

She let them stew in silence for a moment, turning to me, hands on her hips, her gray eyes snapping in irritation. Not aimed at me, I was sure of that, but having her temper aimed in my direction wasn’t helping matters.

You. She spun on the tall, thin man in tweed too heavy for Florida sunshine who wavered like a protective shadow over the petite, scowling woman who’d come to the bar just a short fifteen minutes ago. This was my second time encountering her, the first in the middle of a murder investigation, but while she’d taken off before I could question her previously, she now looked like she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

I preferred seeing her backside on the way out of Canary Key, thanks.

John Coveney, her companion says in a smooth and vaguely whining tenor while she stared in glowering dissatisfaction at Bruno, arms crossed over her narrow chest, expensive suit rumpled from that activity. My wife, Sharlene. He looked down at the woman now identified, though she ignored him completely. King George’s true owners.

I snorted, I couldn’t help myself, but one snapping glare from Allie had me going quiet, too.

Preposterous, the equally tall but far more robust man who crowded Allie’s desk spluttered, full, silver hair and beard the only part of him that seemed to show age, his broad chest and shoulders filling out his suit like that of a younger man who adored the gym. "Chief Crown, I’m Reverend Martin Sincoe and I assure you, King George is my dog. He ignored John Coveney’s tsking protest. Willed to me by his own mother, one Marigold Coveney, at her passing. He pointed to the paperwork on the desk Allie had already tossed aside. As proven in the documentation I provided."

Lies, Sharlene Coveney finally snapped, turning that baleful look of hers on the reverend. You’re a fraud, Sincoe, and everyone knows it.

Just because your mother-in-law despised you enough to will her beloved George to me, Martin said, doesn’t make me a fraud, Sharlene.

I said speak when spoken to. Allie took firm hold of the gathering again as they fell silent before she sighed heavily and pointed at the man in the dark suit who lurked behind the Coveneys. And you are?

Seamus Perkins, Chief Crown, he said, clearly uncomfortable but at least not as aggressive as the others. I’m representing Mr. and Mrs. Coveney in their case to liberate King George back into their possession.

Lawyer, got it.

And you two? Allie sounded as tired as I felt, though she held grimly on when the two men at the back of the room, only relegated to that position because they were forced there by the Coveneys and the reverend, exchanged a look before the first spoke.

Anderson Walston, the older man said, even as Bruno’s ears perked in interest. Did he know this man? I’m just the breeder. He shrugged, though his hazel gaze fell on the dog at my side while his companion took his turn.

Dr. Darcy Walston, the young man said. I’m a vet. He nodded to Anderson beside him, the resemblance clear enough. I work with my father in his breeding business and George was my patient. He flinched, shrugged. "Is."

Anderson shot his son a scowl for the slip, because clearly one of them didn’t think they belonged here, right? George was supposed to come back to me, he said, when Marigold died. She gave me a written letter of agreement to that. He, too, pointed at the desk where the pile of evidence they all presented Allie the moment they walked in here rested. I want my dog back.

But Allie wasn’t done and there was one more soul in the room who had as yet to speak, aside from me. She hovered by the door, the small woman visibly nervous but refusing to back down when the others tried to shut her out.

Last but not least, Allie said. Ms?

Rosa Chavez, she said in a clear voice, hands clasped tightly in front of her. Ms. Marigol’s nurse and the true owner of King George. Bruno smacked his lips and chuffed softly when she spoke, and she smiled at him when he did, bending at the waist, one hand extended. I missed you, Georgie.

He didn’t go to her, but I felt him shift in place, looking up at me with those bottomless dark eyes of his while Sharlene Coveney slapped at Rosa’s hand.

Don’t touch my dog, she snapped.

He’s not yours, Rosa retorted.

You think I’m kidding about the cells? You know what? Maybe Allie wasn’t at that. She certainly seemed like she was ready to break the rules if necessary and the fact the lawyer didn’t speak up had me thinking she just might do it after all.

Silence won again, however, and my friend reached behind her for the stack of paperwork. So, let me get this straight, she said while I fought off the encroaching misery that squeezed my chest so tight that I could barely breathe, each of you have proof that this dog, she gestured at Bruno, is, in fact, King George, a Maximillian mastiff formerly owned by Marigold Coveney.

Correct. Reverend Sincoe risked that one word and succeeded in speaking without being summarily thrown in the clink.

Allie went on without acknowledging him at all. Further, each of you also have proof that Ms. Coveney willed you King George at the event of her death.

They all nodded, Sharlene’s intent eyes narrowing as she glared at Bruno.

Furthermore, Allie said, His Majesty here, it turns out, is the sole heir and beneficiary of Ms. Marigold Coveney and stands to inherit, she paused, eyes widening before giving me side-eye as she finished, in excess of one hundred million dollars.

He… what? I looked down at Bruno who laid his head on my lap and blinked at me in pure puppy innocence.

You see the dilemma, Seamus Perkins spoke up because lawyers were notorious for underplaying their hands.

I have one question for you, Allie said as she met each of their eyes before asking. "If he’s so valuable, what was he doing here, abandoned on Canary Key,