webnovel

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 · Hiện thực
Không đủ số lượng người đọc
492 Chs

Chapter 479: Contents Of The Chest

Things couldn't get any worse, could they? Surely not.

Enter Dr. Lloyd Aberstock and so much worse I could barely breathe.

"I'm afraid, from preliminary examination, there is more than one set of skeletal remains in this mess." He stood over the box Dad had dropped on the surgical table, the morgue already quiet but now feeling like a tomb as he spoke. His normally jovial tone was gone, grim sorrow replacing it. "I can't identify the victim without a DNA test, I'm afraid. But there is enough bone matter remaining that whoever tried to burn these," he gestured into the box with his gloved hands trailing bits of ash, "failed in their attempt to disguise this poor woman's identity."

"You're sure she was female?" Dad's voice couldn't have been any flatter, empty of all emotion. I guess he'd released what he needed to at the office before bundling all of us up and calling the doc on our way to the hospital, practically ordering the older man to meet us there.