Read Online Clawed: A Gin & Tonic Mystery by L. A. Kornetsky - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: L. A. Kornetsky
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though, required actually opening her eyes. When the alarm shut off, she closed her eyes again and took internal inventory. Still incredibly tired, check. Body aching from a too-soft bed, check. In dire need of caffeine, double check. She opened her eyes again, and the brown-eyed, wrinkled face peering over the edge of the bed at her held a familiar expression: Georgie needed to be walked, check.
“Ugh. Right.” She dragged herself out of bed and pulled a sweatshirt over the sweatpants and T-shirt she’d slept in, then shoved her sneakers on bare feet and grabbed Georgie’s leash off the desk, where she’d coiled it the night before. “C’mon, kid. Your bladder waits for no woman.”
She managed to remember her room key before locking herself out, and exchanged a sleepy smile with another guest, who was coming out of the elevator with a terrier mix in his arms.
“They have coffee in the lobby,” he told her. “Free.”
“Oh, thank God,” she said, and he laughed.
The coffee was hot and strong, even if it lacked in the taste department. She dumped two sugars into the paper cup and let Georgie drag her outside. There were two other guests walking their dogs that morning, and Ginny, holding her coffee in one hand and the leash in the other, watched them with a little more interest than she’d been able to muster the night before. The tall black man, already dapper in a suit, had two puppies that looked like some kind of shepherd mix tumbling at his heels. He was talking into a cell phone, softly enough that she couldn’t hear what he was saying, and occasionally glancing down to make sure that the puppies were staying out of trouble. She appreciated that kind of multitasking. The other guest was an older man, with a staid, graying black standard poodle that perfectly matched his own hair. Georgie and the poodle ignored each other, but she sniffed at the puppies—missing their abandoned pup Parsifal, maybe. They’d finally gotten Parsy a new home with one of Stacy’s friends, who lived in Kirkland and had room for an ungainly, overenergetic puppy to run around.
Neither human attempted to speak to her as they strolled the length of the dog run, and while normally Ginny liked talking to other dog owners, this morning she was thankful for their preoccupation. She had gotten a full seven hours of sleep, but somehow it felt earlier than 6 a.m. The sun was up, though, and the sky was a grayish blue, and there were birds singing in a nearby tree, making Ginny feel like a slacker for not being more cheerful.
Then again, she decided sourly, having a job go south was enough to ruin your mood—knowing that you were stuck here until the cops said you could go pretty much trampled it into the ground. If she had to extend her stay here . . .
“At least I brought the laptop,” she said, not quite loud enough for the dog to hear. “Being stuck here without would have driven me to kill someone.” And then she looked around guiltily, as though a cop would be standing there writing down her words as a confession.
Once Georgie had taken care of her basic needs and Ginny had finished her coffee, they went back upstairs and Ginny took care of her own morning maintenance. The water pressure in the shower was mediocre, but there was enough hot water that she finally started to feel alert—and a little less paranoid.
She came out of the bathroom dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, about as far from the smart-but-approachable suit she’d been wearing yesterday as her suitcase could manage. She let her hair dry naturally and studied herself in the mirror. Her normal look was Professionally Tough, No Bullshit Taken. But if she left her hair down, and didn’t wear makeup?
Her curls framed her face in a haphazard way that might be able to pass for innocently tousled, and her skin seemed reasonably clear, no more than normal shadows under her eyes, despite how tired she felt. She widened her hazel eyes at her
“Ugh. Right.” She dragged herself out of bed and pulled a sweatshirt over the sweatpants and T-shirt she’d slept in, then shoved her sneakers on bare feet and grabbed Georgie’s leash off the desk, where she’d coiled it the night before. “C’mon, kid. Your bladder waits for no woman.”
She managed to remember her room key before locking herself out, and exchanged a sleepy smile with another guest, who was coming out of the elevator with a terrier mix in his arms.
“They have coffee in the lobby,” he told her. “Free.”
“Oh, thank God,” she said, and he laughed.
The coffee was hot and strong, even if it lacked in the taste department. She dumped two sugars into the paper cup and let Georgie drag her outside. There were two other guests walking their dogs that morning, and Ginny, holding her coffee in one hand and the leash in the other, watched them with a little more interest than she’d been able to muster the night before. The tall black man, already dapper in a suit, had two puppies that looked like some kind of shepherd mix tumbling at his heels. He was talking into a cell phone, softly enough that she couldn’t hear what he was saying, and occasionally glancing down to make sure that the puppies were staying out of trouble. She appreciated that kind of multitasking. The other guest was an older man, with a staid, graying black standard poodle that perfectly matched his own hair. Georgie and the poodle ignored each other, but she sniffed at the puppies—missing their abandoned pup Parsifal, maybe. They’d finally gotten Parsy a new home with one of Stacy’s friends, who lived in Kirkland and had room for an ungainly, overenergetic puppy to run around.
Neither human attempted to speak to her as they strolled the length of the dog run, and while normally Ginny liked talking to other dog owners, this morning she was thankful for their preoccupation. She had gotten a full seven hours of sleep, but somehow it felt earlier than 6 a.m. The sun was up, though, and the sky was a grayish blue, and there were birds singing in a nearby tree, making Ginny feel like a slacker for not being more cheerful.
Then again, she decided sourly, having a job go south was enough to ruin your mood—knowing that you were stuck here until the cops said you could go pretty much trampled it into the ground. If she had to extend her stay here . . .
“At least I brought the laptop,” she said, not quite loud enough for the dog to hear. “Being stuck here without would have driven me to kill someone.” And then she looked around guiltily, as though a cop would be standing there writing down her words as a confession.
Once Georgie had taken care of her basic needs and Ginny had finished her coffee, they went back upstairs and Ginny took care of her own morning maintenance. The water pressure in the shower was mediocre, but there was enough hot water that she finally started to feel alert—and a little less paranoid.
She came out of the bathroom dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, about as far from the smart-but-approachable suit she’d been wearing yesterday as her suitcase could manage. She let her hair dry naturally and studied herself in the mirror. Her normal look was Professionally Tough, No Bullshit Taken. But if she left her hair down, and didn’t wear makeup?
Her curls framed her face in a haphazard way that might be able to pass for innocently tousled, and her skin seemed reasonably clear, no more than normal shadows under her eyes, despite how tired she felt. She widened her hazel eyes at her
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