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Fiona Fleming Cozy Mysteries

I’m an international, multiple award-winning author with a passion for the voices in my head. As a singer, songwriter, independent filmmaker and improv teacher and performer, my life has always been about creating and sharing what I create with others. Now that my dream to write for a living is a reality, with over a hundred titles in happy publication and no end in sight, I live in beautiful Prince Edward Island, Canada, with my giant cats, pug overlord and overlady and my Gypsy Vanner gelding, Fynn. A Poo Poo Kind of Morning I tried not to look down the mouth of hell staring back at me from inside the glaringly pristine outer ceramic shell of the white throne, my throat catching, stomach doing half flips and a rather impressive rollover routine that would have gotten at least a 9.5 even from the Russian judges. Instead, I forced myself to smile and swallow and remind myself the elbow length yellow rubber gloves grasping the handle of the standard issue plunger were all that stood between me and Pooageddon. Suck it up, Fee. Big girl panties and adulting and all that. “At what point,” I waved the dripping plunger, wincing as droplets of yuck flew, “did I think owning a bed and breakfast was going to be glamorous and romantic?” Fiona Fleming is in so much trouble. Her recently inherited bed and breakfast might not actually be hers thanks to the underhanded misdealings of the local real estate bully. Despite her grandmother's last will and testament, Fee might me out of luck and on the street before she even gets settled. But when her new enemy floats belly up in her koi pond, she's the prime suspect in his murder! Can she uncover who the real killer is before the smoking hot new sheriff puts her behind bars instead of asking her out on a date? Dive into book one of the Fiona Fleming Cozy Mysteries, and don't miss the exciting sequels!

Patti Larsen · Realista
Classificações insuficientes
492 Chs

Chapter 467: Cause Of Death

A small jolt of panic set in. "Tell me he didn't die before he could tell us where." That would be just awesome.

But Dr. Aberstock winked and held up a familiar looking dive computer. "I have the coordinates and the depth at which he made his find," he said. "Which means, now, so do you and the team."

I hugged him quickly, on impulse, though it was honestly hard to maintain any level of excitement with the headache I was dealing with and the events of the last twenty-four hours weighing on me.

Dr. Aberstock paused, good humor fading into concern. "Fee," he said, looking in my eyes, his own narrowing. "Are you experiencing any further symptoms?"

No way I was going back in the duffel bag of death. "I'm fine." I said. "Just a headache. Can you blame me?" He stared at me, didn't speak for so long I sighed at last and eye rolled. "Fine, and a little dizziness. Also understandable since I didn't sleep well last night." He continued his long, silent stare. "I'm okay. I promise."