Here is a sample from Chapter two of A Blade Away. This is the first in the Fringe Killer series and is currently on sale at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords.
“I’ll give you one guess what I managed to swing.” Skip’s voice was flying my way. He had either gotten lucky with the coroner or been hung up on. My guess was the former—Skip always seemed to get his way.
“Let me see—dinner and a movie? No, that wouldn’t be your speed. A drink and sex with our good county coroner?” I smiled a dry-heave kinda smile, like my words were going to enjoy a vomit chaser.
“No, beast. I got you your damned autopsy. Why do you always have to assume…?”
“Is that all you managed?” I raised my eyebrows.
“Well…no. I’m meeting him for dinner tomorrow, after which, we are going to creep out to the Iroquois overlook and—”
“Say no more, Cher.” I got the picture, and it was one that would probably never leave my head.
“I love you, too,” Skip replied sarcastically. “The body is to be brought down from its…current …well…position and brought to the morgue. He should have the results tomorrow afternoon.”
“You mean Dracula is working tonight?” I prodded.
“Oh, you’re impossible sometimes.” Skip winked. “But I love ya, anyway. Now, how are we going to get this big-ass queen down? Too bad she’s dead, or we could ask her to just flit her lil’ wings and—”
“Now, who’s impossible?” My sternest look was shot at Skip. It did no good.
“I’m just being realistic.” I gave Skip a the truth hurts shrug.
Skip slowly shut his eyes and turned his head in defiance. His pout was in overdrive. “What do we do with the Queen of the Dead there?”
As if on cue, the coroner’s assistants arrived. They were lovingly called Igor and Renfield because of their odd infatuation with their job. Their obvious creep factor made them rather difficult to work with.
Igor and Renfield scurried around the scene like rats in a dump. It was their ritual. Everyone had their own rituals. Sometimes, the ritual was the only thing that got you through an investigation, especially when death was involved. The two assistants sniffed, poked, and nosed their way around, each whispering into their respective tape recorders. Finally, they met at the body and took their pictures and notes. Igor turned to me. “Would you mind getting the body down for us?”
“But, that’s not procedure,” I protested.
“Well, you see, I’m afraid of heights, and Renfield dislocated his shoulder last night playing racquetball. So, we’re at a bit of a disadvantage.” His dirty smile played across his yellowed teeth.
I started to protest again, but then I decided that it wouldn’t do a bit of good.
“Oh, and make sure you don’t spoil the state of the body. The autopsy and all…” Igor smiled his nastiest smile. News sure travels fast here.
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