Table of Contents
Excerpt
House of The Rising Nun
Blurb
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
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Note from Dakota
eBooks by Dakota Cassidy
Excerpt
I burst through the doors of Inkerbelle’s to find Detective Primrose and the new crabby detective were already there, listening and nodding at Coop, who was apparently interpreting for an inconsolable Solomon.
The moment he saw me, he ran at me. Not toward me, mind you—at me, skidding across the floor and nearly knocking me over. If not for Higgs bracing me, I might have fallen, the force of his lunge was so fierce.
Now, as established, Solomon isn’t a touchy-feely guy. He’s not even a brush-against-you-by-mistake kind of guy, so for him to head straight for me and reach out meant something was horribly wrong.
When he grabbed my arm, he dug his fingers into my flesh, his hand trembling.
“Solomon? What happened?”
“Seems the kooky guy here wants to report a missing person,” Detective Griswald said, looking down his scarred nose at me.
Instantly, I didn’t like him. It wasn’t just that he’d called Solomon kooky, which he most certainly was not, it was his whole sneering, leering vibe.
So I set Solomon behind me, who clung to me like Saran Wrap, and held up a hand. “Excuse me…Detective Griswald, is it? I take offense to you calling Solomon kooky. Please refrain from using that kind of terminology when referring to him in my presence, or even when you’re not in his presence.” I followed that up with my stern nun eye.
But Detective Griswald wasn’t buckling; he gave me a sterner look, using his size to intimidate by hovering over me, his wide nostrils flaring, his coffee breath puffing in my face. “I should have known you were one of those sensitive PC types, you being a nun and all.”
So listen. I’m not exactly intimidating—not by a long shot—but I am scrappy, and the heck I was going to allow this big, insulting hulk of an ignoramus push me around and call me some kind of pansy for being sensitive to Solomon’s feelings, whether I was a nun or a stripper.
I’m not often angry, but this man set me on fire in all of two seconds flat. I rose on tiptoe and barred my teeth. “I don’t think I’m being one of those sensitive PC types when I suggest you treat another human being like a human being, Detective Griswald.”
Now he grinned, and it was ugly. Wide and toothy and coffee-stained ugly. He looked to Higgs for affirmation when he said, “Feisty little one, isn’t she?”
Aw, man, I was so close to clocking him one, I had my fist already clenched. But Higgs intervened, grabbing my hand and setting me and Solomon behind him.
Higgs, unlike me, was taller than the detective, and he let him know it by hovering over him in the same way the detective had hovered over me. “Pipe down, Griswald. Not okay to insult the taxpayer. Especially when the taxpayer is a friend of mine. Back up. Now.”
Immediately, Detective Griswald backed up, but his eyes were narrowed in ire. “My apologies to you and your…friend,” he muttered with another one of those condescending sneers, making me grunt, I was so infuriated.
Tansy stepped in, her eyes flashing all sorts of messages to Griswald—angry messages, were I to guess. “Griswald, stop being an insensitive buffoon, you nonce. Go wait in the car, yeah?” she ordered, using a finger to point to the door.
He made a face and threw up his hands, making his trench coat flap at his sides. “Whatever, Primrose. I only have a few months and then I’m outta here. I don’t have to take this crap from her or you much longer.”
Tansy lifted her chin and narrowed her gaze at him, clearly accustomed to his behavior. “Ah, but until then, you have to take my crap because I’m your superior. Pity that, eh? Me being a lowly woman and such. Surely you’ll have cooties before the day is through. Now off with you, before I personally see to it you have to gum all those donuts you cram down your gullet.”
He narrowed his eyes right back at her, but stomped off to the door, pushing it open with a hard thrust and letting a gust of chilly air sweep the interior of the shop.
Orange-and rust-colored leaves blew over the threshold in his absence, but the atmosphere in the room was somehow less tense.
Sighing when he was gone, Tansy looked to me while Solomon still violently trembled behind me. “My deepest apologies, Trixie. I can’t tell you what’s up Griswald’s bum, but it’s certainly wedged in there tight, innit?”
I snorted a laugh as my body relaxed enough to reach behind me and grab onto Solomon’s clammy hand. “Not your responsibility. You don’t have to apologize for him.”
“Unfortunately, he’s mine until he retires, and how he behaves reflects upon me. Neither here nor there—it won’t happen again. And to you, Solomon,” she nodded her blonde head in his direction, “my apologies as well. You’ll deal only with me from here on out.”
“So what’s going on here, Tansy?” Higgs asked, his face a mask of worry. “Griffin is missing?”
Coop came up behind Tansy with Knuckles in tow, and nodded her head. “If I may, Detective Primrose? Solomon came in here looking for you, Trixie. He was quite disturbed. When he couldn’t locate you, he became frighteningly distraught while he told me Griffin was taken.”
“Taken?” I squeaked, turning to face Solomon. I didn’t know how to approach this. I wasn’t sure if I should be doing my medieval speak or talking like a pirate. I was almost too upset to concentrate enough to pull it off, anyway. “Solomon, I need you to really focus for me, okay? It’s very important, and I promise I’ll stay right here, but I need your help to understand. Can you tell me what happened to Griffin?”
His hands began to flap, his fingers flickering in the air as his feet began to soft-shoe across the floor, all signs he was about as distraught as he got.
He moved forward and backward, his eyes darting everywhere but my face. “He took him, Trixie! I saw him! He took Griffin. Poked him in the butt and took him. Just like Skinny told us they did—just like it!”
None of this was making any sense, but I had an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. “But I thought you didn’t know where Skinny was, Solomon?”
He shook his head, his Viking hat teetering wildly. “I don’t—I-I-I mean, I didn’t,” he stuttered. Then he began to clap his hand against the side of his head. “I’m getting confused, Trixie! I only know I saw what I saw today—right now!”
Okay, I had to rein this in before he tottered off to that place where I couldn’t reach him.
Gobstoppers!
I’m not sure why I thought of them, but I knew they’d soothe him. And suddenly, Knuckles was there with a handful, planting them in my palm and giving me a reassuring squeeze to my shoulder.
So I held them out to Solomon. “Look, Solomon. Gobstoppers.” He paused in his downward spiral enough that I was able to jump in and grab hold before it went any further. “Now, let’s slow down, because you can’t possibly eat a Gobstopper when you’re excited or you’ll get it stuck in your throat, right? And then you can tell me all about where Griffin went. But you have to take your time so we can find him, and then everything will be all right.”
Solomon
shook so violently, when he went to retrieve the candy from my palm, he knocked most of them to the ground. But Knuckles scooped them up as though they were marbles and popped one from its plastic wrapper.
He held it out, keeping his tone soothing and low. “Here, guy. It’s red. Your favorite, right?”
Solomon dropped it in his mouth and bounced his head, taking deep breaths. “Good. I love Gobstoppers. They’re good. So good.”
I smiled warmly at him and reached out again, placing a hand on his arm and squeezing with light pressure. “I’m happy you like them.”
“Trixie?” he asked quite suddenly, his eyes hopeful.
“Yes, Solomon?”
“Will you hug me? My mother used to hug me. A-a-a long, long time ago, and I like you. You smell nice, just like she did.”
I didn’t have time to be surprised. I didn’t care that his request came out of nowhere. Instead, I wrapped my arms around him, ignoring the fact that he smelled of week-old baloney and stinky cheese. I was honored. More than honored that Solomon trusted me enough to allow me to offer him solace.
“Of course. Of course, I will, Solomon.”
As he settled into me, his arms hanging limply at his sides, his mouth working the Gobstopper, he muttered, “He took Griffin. Just took him, Trixie. It was sooo scary.”
“Who, Solomon,” I whispered. “Who took Griffin?”
My heart throbbed in my chest, and even as I squeezed Solomon, I worried I’d lose my balance, my legs were shaking so much. Out of fear. I was afraid to hear Solomon’s answer.
His breathing had evened out now, and his body language said he wasn’t nearly as riled as he’d been. So I pressed forward with a gentle nudge. “Solomon? Who took Griffin?”
“The gorilla, Trixie. The gorilla took him.”
House of The Rising Nun
Nun of Your Business Mysteries, Book 3
Dakota Cassidy
Published 2018 by Book Boutiques.
ISBN: 978-1-949797-13-8
Copyright © 2018, Dakota Cassidy.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of Book Boutiques.
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, locales, or events is wholly coincidental. The names, characters, dialogue, and events in this book are from the author’s imagination and should not to be construed as real.
Manufactured in the USA.
Email [email protected] with questions, or inquiries about Book Boutiques.
Blurb
Trixie Lavender here, ex-nun on the run with her demon friends Coop and Livingston the talking owl in tow!
Things have been going really well for us at our tattoo shop in Cobbler Cove, a district in the heart of Portland, Oregon. We’re making friends with our fellow shop owners, enjoying serving our community, and really getting to know our new friends, Higgs, Knuckles, and Goose.
When we’re invited to a Halloween party at the Peach Street Shelter, how can we resist spending some time with our favorite ex-undercover police officer turned shelter owner Higgs, on a day that involves candy and costumes?
Unfortunately, the day also involves a murder, a spooky urban myth spreading like wildfire among the homeless population about an organ-stealing-madman, and of course, my testy and unpredictable demonic possession…
Join me, Coop, Higgs and the rest of the gang as we relentlessly hunt for answers to the murder of a local dentist and the legend of The Organ Grinder!
Acknowledgements
Cover Artist: Valerie Tibbs, Tibbs Design
Author’s Note
House of The Rising Nun
Welcome to the Nun of Your Business Mysteries! I so hope you’ll enjoy the third adventure for Trixie Lavender and her pal Coop, an ex-nun and a demon, respectively, just trying to make their way in the world—together.
Please note, I currently live in the beautiful state of Oregon, just outside of Portland. And though not a native (New Yorker here!), I’ve fallen in love over and over again with my new home state every day for the five years we’ve been here. That said, I’ve created a district (sort of like the Pearl District, for you natives) in a suburb of Portland that is totally fictional, called Cobbler Cove.
You may recognize some of the places/streets/eateries I mention because they do exist, but keep in mind, I’m also flagrantly instituting my artistic license with the geography of gorgeous Portland to suit my own selfish needs. Some names for characters or groups/eateries/streets mentioned herein are completely fictitious.
As I’ve mentioned in my previous cozy mysteries, there’s an ongoing mystery surrounding Coop and Trixie that will play out over the course of the series (sorrysorrysorry!), but the central mystery in each story will be all wrapped up in a pretty package with a nice bow by book’s end.
That out of the way, welcome to the crazy world Trixie and Coop inhabit. I hope you come to love them as much as I do!
Chapter 1
“Coop? Why so glum, chum?” I asked while I assessed my costume in the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door.
Coop sighed and held up her long, graceful arms, spreading them wide, the wad of material hanging from them flowing long and free. “I really thought this would be funnier, but I think I should have gone with the Alexis Carrington costume instead.”
“You mean your idol?” I teased as I straightened my horns and twisted the wire in my tail so it curled properly.
“She is the queen of facial expressions, Trixie, but I feel as though she’d find our costumes dull. Mine especially.”
Coop was still watching old reruns of Dynasty, and she still admired Alexis Carrington. Not for her horrible deeds. No, on the contrary. She admired her ability to emote with such passion, something, as you know, Coop isn’t capable of quite yet. Though, she continues to work at it every day with a determination like none I’ve ever seen.
She sighed, and it was very close to a shade of forlorn, her shoulders slumping as she toyed with the fabric at her waist.
I turned to face her with a grin, hoping to lighten her mood as I dug around in my dress pocket for a packet of candy to give her. Sugar Babies. Coop had discovered she loved Sugar Babies. She’d also discovered she wasn’t thrilled about tonight.
It’s Saturday, just four days before All Hallows Eve, which falls on a Wednesday this year, if you’re wondering. We’re going to a party at the shelter—or as we call it, the Guy-MCA—to help Higgs fundraise.
I’m so impressed with Higgs and his ability to socially engage the men who frequent the shelter. While drumming up donations, he’d made it very clear to the people he’d invited that he was going to have his guys present at the party. It was, after all, about them, and he wanted them to feel included.
Some of the guys were actually excited about the party and have been planning their costumes since the beginning of the month. And on top of that, somehow, Higgs had managed not only to garner donations from the local shop owners, but doctors, lawyers and even a couple of attorneys.
His dedication to Peach Street Shelter and the men there is one of the many reasons I like him so much. Our friendship grows daily, and I look forward to the time we spend together. Maybe more than I should at this particular juncture in my life…
Anyway, Coop doesn’t love Halloween, and it’s not for the reasons you’d think a demon would find a day like this tedious. According to her, there is no witching hour when demons and zombies come back from the dead.
Coop says they come back when Satan tells them to come back, and not before, and no one is jumping up and down with excitement about having to do their jobs as demons on Halloween any more than they are on any other given day of the year. Apparently, demon work is hard work.
Food for thought, yes? That she knows that kind of detailed, intimate i
nformation keeps me up at night sometimes. I still haven’t even touched on her relationship with Satan. Even though I know that day is coming, I’m still not quite ready for that conversation.
All that aside, the reason she doesn’t like Halloween is because the candy aisle was stripped bare of all the good stuff when we went shopping today, and all the Sugar Babies were gone—as were the Mary Janes, another favorite of hers.
So I dropped the little yellow packet in her hand and curled her fist over it. “Here. Have some of these. They ought to cheer you up.”
She stared at me, her green eyes intense. “I thought you said if I ate one more of these, my teeth would all fall out?”
What I really meant was, who can possibly eat three bags of Sugar Babies in four hours without throwing up or at the very least gaining an ounce on their gorgeous body? If you’re wondering what the answer is, it’s my demon, Coop. She can, and has since the beginning of October.
I tweaked her cheek then smoothed her skin with my palm. “What’s the big to do about having teeth anyway?”
She planted her hands on her hips and gave me a strange look—one I think was meant to be skeptical. “That was one of those expressions, wasn’t it?”
“Well, it is true they’re not good for your teeth, but one more isn’t going to kill you, Coop. Not after all the junk you’ve eaten today. And yes. It’s an expression mothers often use to prevent their children from overdoing something that has too much sugar.”
Her eyes narrowed as she pursed her lips. “Humans baffle me.”
I chuckled, smoothing my knee-length red satin dress over my hips. “Me, too. So what’s the trouble tonight? Don’t you like your costume?”
“It’s not very glamorous,” she said on a sigh as she practiced opening her eyes wide in surprise in the mirror.
Running a brush through the ends of my hair, I smiled in satisfaction. I’d gotten a trim a week ago, and I was feeling pretty good about my new hairdresser, Lavinia. She was young and fun and she’d given my hair the nice bounce and shine it so desperately needed.
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