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Category:
Crime
ISBN-10: 1512027383
Type: Fiction
Pages: 118
Copyright: Apr, 19, 2015
ISBN-13: 9781311342997
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
Busted, the cozy crime fiction sequel to Bounty, is about mistaken identity, money, and murder.
Busted, the cozy crime fiction sequel to Bounty, is about mistaken identity, money, and murder. Private investigator Mason is called in again, this time to investigate the disappearance of a nurse from Riverside Hospital. His investigation leads him to a woman purporting to be Norma in a Midway nursing home. Who is this woman? What does she really want in Midway and how far will she go to get it? And where is Norma?
Excerpt
From her tenuous position behind the counter, she watched the thickset but too thin old man reflexively duck his head to avoid clipping it on the door frame. His back held erect, he walked unaided into the well-lit reception area of the Midway Nursing Home. Dressed in black slacks, shirt, and jacket, and a dinky tan bow tie, she idly wondered if like owners who look like their dogs, he owned a rottweiler.
As he approached the counter, he turned to his right to acknowledge an elderly woman seated on a black vinyl upholstered sofa facing the desk. He looked down on the short, sparse white hair combed with care to cover her scalp. She wore a wash and wear, lavender and white print dress with an engaging bow tied at the keyhole neckline under an unbuttoned lacey white cardigan. Clad in pink ballerina slippers, her petite feet barely touched the highly polished floor. He presumed she was waiting patiently for attention so gestured for her to go in front of him in the informal line. But, smiling sweetly, she waved him on ahead of her. Without conscious effort, he returned her smile before turning to the hard-faced woman manning the desk.
About thirty, he guessed, of average height, her spare body encased in an institutional uniform. She wore a swipe of red lipstick on thin lips and her brown hair pulled back from her otherwise unmade up face in a utilitarian bun. When he looked closely, one narrow eye was blue, the other green.
She watched him make a mental note of the name on her badge. Norma. A keen observer of men, she waited while he pushed the thick fringe of black hair back from his wide forehead to reveal an enquiring frown. The man’s ears lay flat and close to the side of his head. She liked neat ears. His dark brown, almond shaped eyes lent him a calm expression. There were no tell-tale red marks or indentations on the bridge of his broad, flat nose to suggest he wore glasses. His mouth was generous and his neck free from loose skin. Not something she was used to in her chosen line of work. Then again, she had discerned a few white hairs in the scruffy wave over his shirt collar when he turned to address the elderly resident.
What was grandma doing parked in the reception area anyway? It looked untidy and so unprofessional and clearly wasn’t what was advertised on the cover of the glossy brochure for the nursing home on the desk in front of her. Granny reflected badly on the home and on the staff. If she hadn’t observed the man before he reached the front entrance, she would have ordered a nursing assistant to wheel her away. She was already enjoying the privilege of rank.
He exuded self-confidence as he extended a hand across the desk. In a deep, low tone he rumbled, “Orson.”
Although he’d already read the name on her uniform, he appeared to be waiting for a response. Pointing to the tag, she introduced herself as Norma. It had been only a few short weeks since she’d applied for and accepted the casual nursing appointment at the Midway Nursing Home. They’d been short-staffed and lucky to get her. It had suited her to start straight away. But she was still getting used to her new position and couldn’t afford to forget herself for a moment. Any hesitation invited unwanted attention and might result in letting slip her old identity. She dreaded a staff member or a patient asking her pointedly, “Don’t you know who you are then?”
He observed her openly appraising him while she returned his firm handshake across the desk. Orson preferred her direct approach rather than sly, sideways glances. He took the opportunity to read of his right to dignity and privacy set out on the laminated poster pinned to the cork board on the off-white wall behind her. Orson noted his medical, pecuniary, and visiting rights. The words triggered a sudden sensation of prison bars locking into position behind him and blocking his exit. He glanced guiltily over his left shoulder to satisfy himself that he was just being fanciful.
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