To Die Fur (A Whiskey Tango Foxtrot Mystery) (38 page)

“So I wasn’t imagining things—that really
was
Keene?”

I nodded. “Our semi-resident rock star, yeah. He likes it here, comes back a lot. He’s always an interesting dinner guest, so ZZ’s given him a standing invitation.” I sounded fine—calm and in control—but that was more out of sheer habit than anything else. When I’m in crisis mode, you could blow up a car fifty feet away and I’d note the make and model before all the wreckage hit the ground. It has nothing to do with being brave, just years of training.

But that wasn’t how I felt. Inside, I was screaming.

“Who else?” Forrester asked.

“Let’s see. Teresa Firstcharger. She’s an aboriginal rights activist. She contacted ZZ and asked if she could attend.”

“Is that usual? People asking to attend?”

“Sure. Her salons are very popular. But the main reason ZZ said yes was because Teresa had some very influential friends vouch for her. She’s kind of a rock star in the activist world, gets a lot of celebrities to endorse her cause. Johnny Depp is one of her supporters. But she has kind of a reputation, too.”

Forrester tapped his pen against his knee. “What sort of reputation?”

“Well, she rubs elbows with a lot of rich and famous people. And some people claim she’s
all
elbows.”

“Any truth to that?”

I shrugged. “Some. Unfortunately, one of her elbowees was also one of our guests. Who was here with his wife.”

“Things got ugly?’

“Things got deadly. You saw what we fished out of the pool.” It was a glib and heartless thing to say, but I’m one of those people who use humor to deal with pain. Right then, I was doing my best to put a wall of bad jokes topped with razor-sharp wit around my feelings so I could keep functioning; on the other side of that wall was a whole lot of pain. From the look on Forrester’s face, I’m guessing he’d encountered this kind of reaction before.

“Uh-huh,” he said. “So was there some sort of confrontation?”

“You could say that. The Metcalfes were talking in the lounge when Teresa arrived. She walked right up and—well, she was very blunt. Told him he could do better and she should get lost. I thought there was going to be a fistfight.”

“How did Mr. Metcalfe take it?”

“He was embarrassed and angry. His wife was … just angry.”

“All right. Who else is a guest?”

“Let’s see. Have you heard of Theodora Bonkle?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“She’s an author. Writes mysteries and children’s books; I’m a fan, and so is ZZ. Theodora’s an interesting person in her own right, too.”

Forrester glanced at his pad, scribbled something down. “Oh? How so?”

“Well, the fact that she used to be a he is hardly worth mentioning when compared to the rest of her life. Theodora suffers from schizophrenia, which led to her being hospitalized at one point. She was placed on medication to help control her hallucinations, which worked—but as it turned out, the drugs blunted her creativity so much she couldn’t write. She mounted a legal challenge to be taken off them for specific periods of time, and won.”

Forrester frowned. “So the court agreed it’s her right to be crazy?”

“Only now and then. And yes, this is one of the thens.”

“Okay … anybody else?”

“Dr. Efram Fimsby. He’s an exotic meteorologist, an expert on unusual weather patterns. Climate change is one of ZZ’s current obsessions, so he’s here to talk about global warming and storm systems and things like that. Like Theodora, it’s his first time here. Oh, and Rustam Gorshkov. He’s an animal psychic.”

Forrester raised his eyebrows. “He reads animal’s minds?”

<
Nobody
reads
a mind, Einstein
,> Tango remarked. <
A brain isn’t a book
.>

[And if it were,] Whisky added, [yours would undoubtedly be a softcover. You do understand the inherent pointlessness in telling someone they can’t read your mind by making a telepathic comment they can’t hear?]

Tango yawned and stretched, extending one paw as far as she could and stretching her toes so the claws popped out. <
I was being ironic
.>

“That’s what Mr. Gorshkov claims,” I said. “But it’s a little more complicated than that. See, he has a dog that paints.”

“A dog that paints.”

“Yes. He says it’s a collaboration—he stands a short distance away and concentrates, and the dog paints what he tells her to.”

“Oooookay…”

I tried for another gulp of tea, but it was empty. I set the mug down on the floor, regretfully. “And that’s about it. I’ve already given you a list of the household staff, and who was here last night.”

He nodded. “Yes, thank you. You’re very organized. There’s one more thing before you go, though.”

I knew what he was going to ask, of course.

<
Here it comes.
>

[If he didn’t ask, it would mean he was incompetent.]

Forrester looked up from his notes, and made eye contact with me. “What exactly was your relationship with the victim?”

“We weren’t close. In fact, we hadn’t known each other for very long.”

“But her brother works here?”

“Yes. I know him … quite a bit better.”

Forrester’s eyes softened. “How’s he holding up?”

“Ben’s sister is dead,” I said. “He’s not doing that well.”

A
LSO BY
D
IXIE
L
YLE

A T
ASTE FUR
M
URDER

P
RAISE FOR
D
IXIE
L
YLE AND
A T
ASTE
F
UR
M
URDER

“A delightful, funny mystery filled with eccentric and colorful characters, be they humans, animals or spirits. Dixie Lyle will entertain the reader page after page!”

—Leann Sweeney,
New York Times
bestselling author of Cats in Trouble mysteries

“A clever new series that deftly blends cozy mystery with the paranormal, and that is sure to please readers of both genres …
A Taste Fur Murder
is original and witty, with a twisting plot that contains more than a few ‘shocks.’”

—Ali Brandon, author of the Black Cat Bookshop mysteries

“This is a paranormal cozy unlike anything you have ever read … If you love whodunits, the paranormal, animals, and especially well-written stories, I guarantee that you will love this book.”

—Melissa’s Mochas, Mysteries & Meows

“Take a large helping of mystery, a dollop of murder, a leavening of humor, and an unusual take on animal afterlife. Stir vigorously. The result is Dixie Lyle’s delightful debut paranormal cozy mystery.”

—The Bookwyrm’s Hoard

“My new favorite detective author! Whiskey, Tango & Foxtrot will be taking shelf space right next to my Cat in the Stacks mystery series.”

—Of Thoughts and Words

“A fresh and entertaining read.”

—Workaday Reads

“Excellently written, a joy to read, and … a mystery to the very end.”

—Murder by Death

A
BOUT THE
A
UTHOR

Dixie Lyle loves animals, mysteries, books, reading, words, bad puns (are there any other kind?) and once had a torrid summer romance with an entire library. Did I mention the books? Oh, and definitely doesn’t believe in the supernatural. Nope, not me. Hey, what was that sound? Where’s that spooky green glow coming from? Oh, hello, didn’t see you standing there in the corner, what with you being all see-through and everything. Want a cup of tea? Moan once for yes, twice for no.

Allegations that Dixie Lyle has a goofy sense of humor are entirely unfounded, and should be forwarded to the unfounded and unlost department.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

TO DIE FUR

Copyright © 2014 by Dixie Lyle.

Excerpt from
Marked fur Murder
copyright © 2014 by Dixie Lyle.

All rights reserved.

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eISBN: 9781466824270

St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / September 2014

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