Mourners: A Nameless Detective Novel ("Nameless" Detective Novels)
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Also not helping was the mood in the office. Tamara had something eating at her and Jake…well, Jake needed a case so he could stop thinking about what was happening with his son. It was a mournful time for everyone.
Then the bits and pieces began to fall into place: The funerals James Troxell was attending were all for women who had died violently. Was he responsible? One woman thought so, thought Troxell had killed her sister, and her insistence was becoming a problem.
Too many deaths, too many roads leading nowhere, too many crimes and secrets and fears were coming together as heavy as the fog rolling over the Bay. Too many answers were needed before there'd be sunshine again for anyone and the mourning could stop.
She said, “We’re off the Troxell case. And we don’t have a client to justify mixing in a homicide investigation.” “Unofficial client. My time, my expense. I told Erin Dumont’s sister I’d try to help.” “Why?” Because she looked like Colleen. Because she seemed to be stuck in his head and he couldn’t get her out. He said, “Because she’s the type who’ll keep on grieving until there’s some kind of closure. And the SFPD hasn’t come up with anything in six weeks. You know what that means.”
from work he hung around with?” “Not that I know about. He doesn’t make friends easily—he’s always been shy, doesn’t relate well to other people. Women especially.” “So he didn’t date much.” “Not at all when we were kids. He seemed almost afraid of girls after that time he was expelled from high school. If he did finally meet someone, I couldn’t be happier for him.” “Why was he expelled?” “For fighting. It wasn’t his fault, he’d worked up enough nerve to talk to a girl he liked and the
as he was, he expected to spend the night and the briefcase contained his toothbrush and a change of underwear. Wrong. Wrong big time. Everything went along fine for a while. They drank some more wine and made out on the couch, both of them getting their temperatures raised—man really did know how to kiss. So then she said, “Come on in the bedroom, Clement,” and they got up and swapped some more spit and she started leading him into the other room. And then it all fell apart. He unlocked their
you’ll see. Best you’ve ever had.” “Oh, sure. Blondes have more fun, right?” “Don’t you want to find out?” “Uh-uh. No way.” “Tamara, it’s important to me that you wear it.” “Must be. What, you carry it with you everywhere you go, just in case you get lucky?” “I won’t dignify that question with an answer.” “Dignify? I don’t see much dignity in a black man hauling a Marilyn Monroe scalp around in his briefcase.” “It’s just a wig. You make it sound like something obscene.” “It is if you
singing is one of her favorite pastimes. The thought of her emulating Shannon Stark or any other noisy teenage idol was not a happy one. “The CD’s not mine anyway,” Emily said. “Carla’s brother downloaded it off the Internet.” “Isn’t that illegal?” “Well, technically, but everybody does it.” “You’d better be the exception. Where’s Kerry?” “She has to work late tonight.” “First I’ve heard of it. How late?” “I don’t know. I didn’t talk to her.” “She didn’t pick you up? How’d you get home