Killer Summer by Lynda Curnyn (knowledgeable books to read TXT) 📕

liked me. I had a way with the parents, you know? Bern’s parents fucking love me.

And in Francesca’s case, I was hoping for parental approval.

I started to dance myself. Well, kinda. I hadn’t had enough beers yet to really get grooving. But I was feeling good. And when the band came to the end of the first set, and the crowd, though still meager, let out a heartfelt roar, I was feeling pretty fucking awesome.

Especially when a flush-faced Francesca rushed up to me just as soon as the last song ended, looking very much like she might want to take me into the restroom and get it on right now. And why shouldn’t she? I showed her a good time tonight.

She stopped before me, barely catching her breath before she blurted out, “I want to meet the band. Well, not all of them. Just the singer. He’s like, the hottest guy I’ve ever seen!”

Uh, right.

Chapter Twenty-One

Zoe

It’s a dog-eat-dog world. So don’t forget your poop bag.

I was starting to understand why they said dogs were a man’s best friend. Well, in this case, a woman’s. It seemed like Janis was going to be my only ally in this investigation I was conducting. She was at least the only one who seemed to be showing the effects of grief. I could swear she looked downright depressed sometimes, but maybe she had always looked that way. Still, when she looked at me with those big brown eyes, I imagined that she was silently imploring me to carry on with this whole trail I’d started following since the night she and I found Maggie on the beach. Which was why I had leashed her up and taken her for a walk along the beach this fine Saturday morning.

No, I wasn’t looking for Myles. I already knew he was going to be no help and I was still a bit bewildered by his attitude. I didn’t even know him anymore. Or he didn’t know me. He certainly didn’t believe in me. Or my instincts. Which left my ego a little bruised, to say the least.

Now my little murder trail was starting to feel more like a trail of bread crumbs. But still I persevered—I had to. I couldn’t ignore my gut, even though everyone else told me I should. So last week I had contacted the S.C.P.D. myself to order the police report on Maggie’s death, only to learn it was going to take two weeks to receive it. And even then the police report wouldn’t show all the avenues the cops had discarded before the death had been ruled accidental.

Which was why I had resorted to Operation Janis Joplin. But this time out, I was hoping to run into a certain square-jawed cop on a quad. He was my only resource at the moment. I wasn’t sure what I would do when I found him—let Janis off the leash? That oughta get Jeff’s attention, since he was clearly a strict enforcer of the leash law if nothing else. I was certain it wouldn’t be my getup—long shorts and a long-sleeve cotton shirt. I wasn’t taking any chances in this heat. I did want to make it at least to middle-age with some undamaged skin left on my body.

I was nearly at the end of Kismet when I spotted him, heading west on his quad, looking pretty cute as he sat high on the motorbike, shoulders straight, jaw firm.

But just when I was about to give him a sunny little wave, he blew on by, sending Janis into a barking frenzy.

Damn. “Janis!” I said, feeling the leash slide out of my grip.

I swear, I didn’t do that on purpose. In fact, I started to even feel a shot of panic as I watched my four-legged friend dart down the beach.

Janis’s escape did, however, achieve the desired effect. As Janis whizzed past him,Jeff stopped his bike, turned around to find the negligent dog owner and spotted me.

I raced up to him. “Could you—I’m sorry, Jeff. She kinda got away from me. Maybe you could, uh, ride after her?” I said, my gaze moving frantically to Janis, who was becoming smaller and smaller on the beach.

I shivered, remembering the last time she had gotten out of my grip.

But Jeff didn’t sail off after her on his quad. Instead, he put two fingers in his mouth and let out a whistle that almost shattered my eardrums.

My jaw dropped as Janis stopped, then turned and loped back over to us.

“Thanks,” I said, once I had her leash once more and Janis sat looking up at me as if to say, “What’s all the fuss about?”

“No problem. Anything for a pretty lady.” He smiled.

I smiled back. Okay, the pretty lady thing was a bit old-fashioned, but somehow, whenever I was with this guy, I did feel like I was in some kind of fifties-style western. Maybe it was the uniform. Gave him that alpha-male edge.

“So I see you made it back to the beach. Enjoying yourself?” he said.

“Yeah, got in late last night.”

“Oh, yeah? Working late on your documentary?”

I nodded. That was true, but he didn’t need to know it wasn’t on my fictitious water-related accidents documentary. I had met up with Adelaide Gibson at her apartment last night for a new viewing of the re-edited dogsnatchers.com doc, complete with the added footage of the frolicking King Charles spaniels in the park. We even had dinner afterward, because I got the feeling after the viewing that Adelaide realized our time working together had come to an end, and she was a little lonely. “Yeah, things are coming along okay,” I said. “I actually put a request in for the police report on Maggie Landon’s death, but it’s gonna take a while to get it. It’s too bad, because I was hoping to use it for my film.”

I saw Jeff frown, and for a moment, I thought he was considering moving things