Read Online Shades of Murder (The Mac Faraday Mysteries) by Lauren Carr - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lauren Carr
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going to have lots of fun doing it.”
Chapter Four
Mac tried to ignore Gnarly.
After more than a year of living with the beast, Mac held on to a sliver of hope that if he ignored the cold snout poking him on the cheek and neck that Gnarly would give up and return to his den under the bed.
Another two hours of sleep wasn’t going to happen. Not as long as there were ducks invading Gnarly’s territory on the dock or squirrels gathering nuts in his yard. When Mac didn’t respond to the poking, Gnarly resorted to a full body assault by jumping up onto the bed and digging him out from under the bedding.
Cursing, Mac threw off the covers and looked over at the other side of the king-sized bed.
It was empty—as it was every morning. The pillow and sheets showed the usual signs of having been slept in. The bedding on “her side” even contained a hint of Archie’s scent.
Mac paused to appreciate the sweetness of the smell, until Gnarly tagged him in the back with his front paws with such force that he landed face down onto her pillow.
“Okay, I’m coming.” Mac shoved his arms through the sleeves of his bathrobe on his way down the stairs. He tied the belt tight around his waist before yanking the back door open to let Gnarly out onto the deck.
The German Shepherd’s barks resembled a morning wakeup call when he charged off the deck to the dock where a flock of ducks waited to be chased out into the lake.
The granite floor sent a cold shock from the bottom of Mac’s bare feet and up through his shoulders. Trying to avoid the freezing touch, he tiptoed into the kitchen to hit the switch to start the coffee brewing. While waiting for his first dose of caffeine, he peered out the kitchen window and marveled at the turn of events.
Whoever would have guessed an underpaid cop would end up like this?
The first sunrays of the day caused a mist to rise from the lake to create an eerie effect. Shivering, Mac pulled the bathrobe tight around his bare shoulders and chest.
Through chattering teeth, he smiled at Gnarly barking at the ducks from the end of the dock. They swam out to the end of the cove before turning around and quacking back at him. Their quacks sounded as if they were taunting him to come get them. When Gnarly felt particularly feisty, which he often was, he would.
Go get ‘em, Gnarly.
Three beeps signaled that his coffee had finished brewing. Mac tiptoed over to the counter to fill his mug. With the sun not quite up yet, it was still too cold to enjoy his coffee on the deck. So he stretched out on the sofa to wake up while enjoying a different view.
Ilysa Ramsay’s last painting. Her lost work of art.
Propped up against the wall, it filled the space on the far side of his living room.
Mac stared at the redhead in the emerald gown.
Ilysa Ramsey was a beautiful woman indeed. She was also talented. How ironic that, before her death, she chose to surround herself, in this painting, with those most suspected of killing her. Was she predicting her own death?
Ilysa’s blue eyes seemed to jump out of the painting at him. Mac jumped. It was as if the painting had come to life.
Must have gone back to sleep.
“I see Gnarly has cleared the perimeter.” Archie’s voice woke him up the rest to of the way. “We can feel safe again. Coffee brewed?” She went into the kitchen to get the answer for herself and feed Gnarly.
His first chore of the day completed, Gnarly was ready for the next items on his list: breakfast. First, he had an appetizer in the form of a biscuit, to be followed by his breakfast. He didn’t care who served them to him, as long as someone did so in a timely fashion.
Mac sat up and returned to staring at the painting.
What’s wrong with this painting? It’s something to do with her eyes. The expression. Like Ilysa is pleading for me to find her killer.
The ruby jewels around her neck resembled drops of blood. Her blood spilled during her murder—committed after she had done
Chapter Four
Mac tried to ignore Gnarly.
After more than a year of living with the beast, Mac held on to a sliver of hope that if he ignored the cold snout poking him on the cheek and neck that Gnarly would give up and return to his den under the bed.
Another two hours of sleep wasn’t going to happen. Not as long as there were ducks invading Gnarly’s territory on the dock or squirrels gathering nuts in his yard. When Mac didn’t respond to the poking, Gnarly resorted to a full body assault by jumping up onto the bed and digging him out from under the bedding.
Cursing, Mac threw off the covers and looked over at the other side of the king-sized bed.
It was empty—as it was every morning. The pillow and sheets showed the usual signs of having been slept in. The bedding on “her side” even contained a hint of Archie’s scent.
Mac paused to appreciate the sweetness of the smell, until Gnarly tagged him in the back with his front paws with such force that he landed face down onto her pillow.
“Okay, I’m coming.” Mac shoved his arms through the sleeves of his bathrobe on his way down the stairs. He tied the belt tight around his waist before yanking the back door open to let Gnarly out onto the deck.
The German Shepherd’s barks resembled a morning wakeup call when he charged off the deck to the dock where a flock of ducks waited to be chased out into the lake.
The granite floor sent a cold shock from the bottom of Mac’s bare feet and up through his shoulders. Trying to avoid the freezing touch, he tiptoed into the kitchen to hit the switch to start the coffee brewing. While waiting for his first dose of caffeine, he peered out the kitchen window and marveled at the turn of events.
Whoever would have guessed an underpaid cop would end up like this?
The first sunrays of the day caused a mist to rise from the lake to create an eerie effect. Shivering, Mac pulled the bathrobe tight around his bare shoulders and chest.
Through chattering teeth, he smiled at Gnarly barking at the ducks from the end of the dock. They swam out to the end of the cove before turning around and quacking back at him. Their quacks sounded as if they were taunting him to come get them. When Gnarly felt particularly feisty, which he often was, he would.
Go get ‘em, Gnarly.
Three beeps signaled that his coffee had finished brewing. Mac tiptoed over to the counter to fill his mug. With the sun not quite up yet, it was still too cold to enjoy his coffee on the deck. So he stretched out on the sofa to wake up while enjoying a different view.
Ilysa Ramsay’s last painting. Her lost work of art.
Propped up against the wall, it filled the space on the far side of his living room.
Mac stared at the redhead in the emerald gown.
Ilysa Ramsey was a beautiful woman indeed. She was also talented. How ironic that, before her death, she chose to surround herself, in this painting, with those most suspected of killing her. Was she predicting her own death?
Ilysa’s blue eyes seemed to jump out of the painting at him. Mac jumped. It was as if the painting had come to life.
Must have gone back to sleep.
“I see Gnarly has cleared the perimeter.” Archie’s voice woke him up the rest to of the way. “We can feel safe again. Coffee brewed?” She went into the kitchen to get the answer for herself and feed Gnarly.
His first chore of the day completed, Gnarly was ready for the next items on his list: breakfast. First, he had an appetizer in the form of a biscuit, to be followed by his breakfast. He didn’t care who served them to him, as long as someone did so in a timely fashion.
Mac sat up and returned to staring at the painting.
What’s wrong with this painting? It’s something to do with her eyes. The expression. Like Ilysa is pleading for me to find her killer.
The ruby jewels around her neck resembled drops of blood. Her blood spilled during her murder—committed after she had done
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