Read Online Drowning in Amber (A Marie Jenner Mystery Book 2) by E.C. Bell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: E.C. Bell
Tags: Urban Fantasy
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the downtown police station and process us.
As I was getting into the back of a van, I saw Stew yelling at another cop. He looked furious.
“What do you mean he’s not here?” His face was a dangerous purple as he stood nose to nose with the unfortunate police officer who’d given him the bad news. “He was here. They said he was here!”
I didn’t hear any more, because I was rather unceremoniously tossed into the rear of the van at that time, but I wondered, as I tried not to touch any of the great unwashed in the back, who they’d missed in their sweep.
Someone important, if Stew’s purple face was any indication.
Now, that was interesting.
GETTING PROCESSED IS nothing I want to talk about. Ever. But after, we were allowed to make our phone call—well, I was, because I got really loud about it all—so I called James.
What can I say? He wasn’t impressed.
“You were just supposed to talk to people. Marie. Just talk.”
“That’s all I did,” I protested. “I walked into the middle of a drug sweep. I think they thought they were going to catch someone important, but it looks like they missed him.” I shrugged. “Whatever. I just want out of here, and I really don’t want to wait until I’m arraigned. This wasn’t my fault, James.”
“I know.” He snapped back to attention. “I think I can get you out. But it’ll mean we owe Sergeant Worth, big time.”
“Is that the only way?” I whined. I really didn’t want to owe Sergeant Worth anything. Or anything more. She’d already saved my butt once, after all, and it was never good to owe the police too much. Besides, I was pretty sure she knew all about my mom and her ability to see ghosts. Worse, I think she suspected I had the same ability.
“Yes,” he said. “I think it is.”
“Are we going to miss our meeting with Honoria?” I personally saw the potential paycheque flying out the window, but he chuckled.
“Don’t worry about the meeting,” he said. “I’ll call her and let her know we’re going to be late.”
“Good,” I said. “Now, please, get me out of here. It really stinks.”
Eddie:
So, Who Is Jimmy Lavall,
and Why Should I Care?
I KINDA WONDERED if I could even go to that detective agency place. I’d been in some kind of weird loop since—well, since my death, I guess—that had me going from the tree where I died to my mom’s and back again. Didn’t want to be stuck like that forever. I needed something to change. Well, what I really needed was a quick fix to put my head back on straight. I was starting to hurt something fierce.
I caught the LRT back downtown and got off near Chinatown.
So far so good.
I walked the few blocks it took to get to the address I’d seen on the business card. I’d made certain to remember it, didn’t need my spotty memory screwing this up for me. I needed to talk to Marie. She’d seen me—actually seen me. Only person so far. I had the feeling she knew something that might help me.
THE OFFICE, WHEN I finally found it, was in a nothing kind of a building. Just a street-level door opening onto a set of stairs. No elevator or entryway or anything.
Great. The only one who could see me, and she worked for a loser. Sounded like my kind of luck, still running the way it always did.
I went up to the second floor. Dark, dingy, dirty. Yeah. Of course. Finally found the door. “Jimmy Lavall, Private Investigator” painted on the glass. Looked legit enough, so I pushed through and into the office proper.
No one there. Luckily, light from the street flooded through the window at the far end of the office, so I could see well enough to have a look around.
Small desk, sitting in the middle of the room. No computer. No nothing. And it was dark and empty. I thought private eyes worked all night and stuff.
I took a look through both of the other doors in the room, hoping that the Marie chick was behind one or the other. One led to a
As I was getting into the back of a van, I saw Stew yelling at another cop. He looked furious.
“What do you mean he’s not here?” His face was a dangerous purple as he stood nose to nose with the unfortunate police officer who’d given him the bad news. “He was here. They said he was here!”
I didn’t hear any more, because I was rather unceremoniously tossed into the rear of the van at that time, but I wondered, as I tried not to touch any of the great unwashed in the back, who they’d missed in their sweep.
Someone important, if Stew’s purple face was any indication.
Now, that was interesting.
GETTING PROCESSED IS nothing I want to talk about. Ever. But after, we were allowed to make our phone call—well, I was, because I got really loud about it all—so I called James.
What can I say? He wasn’t impressed.
“You were just supposed to talk to people. Marie. Just talk.”
“That’s all I did,” I protested. “I walked into the middle of a drug sweep. I think they thought they were going to catch someone important, but it looks like they missed him.” I shrugged. “Whatever. I just want out of here, and I really don’t want to wait until I’m arraigned. This wasn’t my fault, James.”
“I know.” He snapped back to attention. “I think I can get you out. But it’ll mean we owe Sergeant Worth, big time.”
“Is that the only way?” I whined. I really didn’t want to owe Sergeant Worth anything. Or anything more. She’d already saved my butt once, after all, and it was never good to owe the police too much. Besides, I was pretty sure she knew all about my mom and her ability to see ghosts. Worse, I think she suspected I had the same ability.
“Yes,” he said. “I think it is.”
“Are we going to miss our meeting with Honoria?” I personally saw the potential paycheque flying out the window, but he chuckled.
“Don’t worry about the meeting,” he said. “I’ll call her and let her know we’re going to be late.”
“Good,” I said. “Now, please, get me out of here. It really stinks.”
Eddie:
So, Who Is Jimmy Lavall,
and Why Should I Care?
I KINDA WONDERED if I could even go to that detective agency place. I’d been in some kind of weird loop since—well, since my death, I guess—that had me going from the tree where I died to my mom’s and back again. Didn’t want to be stuck like that forever. I needed something to change. Well, what I really needed was a quick fix to put my head back on straight. I was starting to hurt something fierce.
I caught the LRT back downtown and got off near Chinatown.
So far so good.
I walked the few blocks it took to get to the address I’d seen on the business card. I’d made certain to remember it, didn’t need my spotty memory screwing this up for me. I needed to talk to Marie. She’d seen me—actually seen me. Only person so far. I had the feeling she knew something that might help me.
THE OFFICE, WHEN I finally found it, was in a nothing kind of a building. Just a street-level door opening onto a set of stairs. No elevator or entryway or anything.
Great. The only one who could see me, and she worked for a loser. Sounded like my kind of luck, still running the way it always did.
I went up to the second floor. Dark, dingy, dirty. Yeah. Of course. Finally found the door. “Jimmy Lavall, Private Investigator” painted on the glass. Looked legit enough, so I pushed through and into the office proper.
No one there. Luckily, light from the street flooded through the window at the far end of the office, so I could see well enough to have a look around.
Small desk, sitting in the middle of the room. No computer. No nothing. And it was dark and empty. I thought private eyes worked all night and stuff.
I took a look through both of the other doors in the room, hoping that the Marie chick was behind one or the other. One led to a
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