Hit and Nun Read online

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Hit and 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

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  Note from Dakota

  eBooks by Dakota Cassidy

  Excerpt

  Bright and early the next day, I was more than ready to play amateur detective. I banged on Higgs’s dark green apartment door at seven a.m. sharp. He lived in a swanky high-rise overlooking the Willamette, not far from the shelter, with lots of glass and steel, totally the opposite from Knuckles’s house, which was warm and homey. But it was still very appealing, with all its sleek lines and fun metal art sculptures in the lobby.

  He told me he’d bought the apartment after he’d retired from the force because he loved the amazing view of the mountains and the river, and while it was very manly, with a lot of hardwood ceilings and ironwork, I had to admit, the view really was amazing.

  I’d had a restless night, spent worried about Knuckles and his ex-girlfriend. I got up before the sun and watched the news, hoping for more information, but the report mirrored the one from the night before with no new details.

  Naturally, because I don’t know how to stop myself since I’d discovered this urge to solve mysteries, I hypothesized well into the wee hours of the morning, tossing and turning in my big king-size bed with so many throw pillows, my head would never lack support.

  Many of my theories revolved around Suzanne being a serial killer who’d killed all of her prior husbands by some nefarious means. Which meant I was being woefully petty, and I regretted that. But we couldn’t ignore the fact that she’d been through a few marriages.

  Now, showered and dressed, my morning devotions done (it’s not exactly the traditional devotion. I simply map out goals for myself for the day and spend some quiet time listening to the silence), coffee in hand and one for Higgs from Betty’s, the itch to get a move on was real.

  “Trixie?” a very sleepy Higgs said from beyond the crack in his apartment door.

  “Reporting for duty,” I joked, giving him a salute and a smile.

  He squinted at me. “Do you know what time it is?”

  “Time for us to catch a killer.”

  “Oooor,” he drawled on a yawn, scratching the part of his chest exposed in his bathrobe. “Time for overzealous ex-nuns to go away and come back at a more reasonable hour. I was at the shelter until four this morning, sorting out Mario and Griffin. Cal’s covering for me this morning.”

  Cal Hallows being the social worker he’d hired who’d grown tired of the system, and the limitations it placed on him, and had decided to deal with the community in need directly. I liked Cal a lot. He was a thirty-something nerd who loved all things Star Wars and football.

  I held up the cup of coffee and shook it at him. “But I brought coffee, strong and black. Just the way you like it—with a hint of hickory. That should help get your engine started.”

  He popped the door open wide to reveal the rest of his blue-and-white striped bathrobe cinched at his waist. I was grateful Jeff bounded toward the door at me, jumping up on my thighs and almost knocking me over, distracting me from Higgs and his nightwear.

  I’m still a little unsure what’s appropriate and what isn’t in male-female relationships. I never dated much before I entered the convent because I was too wrapped up doing drugs. Not that Higgs and I are dating, mind you. That’s not what I mean at all.

  I just don’t know male-female protocols for a friendship, what’s acceptable and what isn’t. I didn’t know if I should look away, so I kept my eyes on Jeff.

  “Jeff! No! That’s not nice. Down, Jeff, down!” Higgs reprimanded, grabbing him by the collar to pull him off me.

  I winked down at Jeff. He really is the cutest, even when he’s knocking me around, trying to be the best dog he knows how to be.

  “Hey, little man. You ready to help catch a killer?” Jeff let out a bark I found myself pretty impressed with. He was dogging like a champ these days. All that YouTube was paying off. “See? Jeff’s ready.”

  Higgs ran a hand through his thick hair, which, by the way, didn’t look like he’d been sleeping at all, leaving me feeling a little jealous. “Jeff needs to potty, and seeing as you’re disturbing my beauty sleep and I haven’t even showered yet, I’ll take that coffee, thank you very much, and grab a shower. You can take Jeff out for potties, Detective Lavender.” He reached down and scratched Jeff’s head with a fond smile. “You gotta go potties, bud?”

  Jeff ran around in circles, another sure sign he was paying attention to the videos he’d been watching.

  I stepped inside and held out my hand for the leash. “Fifteen minutes, partner. That’s all you get. I have to be at the shop at noon. I want to cover as much ground as possible this morning before I have to open. I have a list of things we should do and people we should talk to. I’ve already looked up Agnar and his friends on social media, so I’m more familiar with our suspects. Want me to run what I found out by you?”

  “Pushy, pushy,” he said on a groan, taking a long gulp of his coffee. “Save your list for after my coffee, Sleuth. I’m barely functioning.”

  Peering up at him, I nodded my understanding, but that didn’t stop me from telling him what I’d found on Agnar. “So you don’t want to know that he’s a rich art dealer, dealing in exotic and rare pieces?”

  “I want to know everything you’ve gathered, my little Nancy Drew, after my coffee.”

  I rolled my eyes, adjusting the strap of my purse over my shoulder. “Fine. Coffee before murder, but before I take our boy here for a walk, any more news from Tansy you can share?”

  He shook his head, his eyes direct if not still full of sleep. “Not a word. As far as I know, nothing’s changed. They’re calling it homicide, but I have no idea why because I didn’t see any signs of foul play.”

  I nodded, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows splayed across his entire living room just beyond his brown leather couch. “Me neither, but they know something we don’t, for sure.”

  “They’re probably waiting on the coroner’s report for anything definitive. We might want to do that, too, before we jump through hoops.”

  “Oh, no, Mr. Play-It-Safe. We don’t have time to wait. Do you know what that woman did last night after you left?”

  He gave me a skeptical glance over his coffee cup. “I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure you’re going to tell me…”

  “She asked Knuckles to go outside and cover the solar landscaping lights because the shades in her bedroom weren’t enough to block out the glare. It was too much for her delicate sensibilities.” I said, mimicking her words from the night before.

  Higgs tipped his cup at me. “Wow. Nice Suzanne impression. You’re pretty good at that breathy, sultry thing she does with her voice.”

  I ignored his praise in favor of my anger. “Do you know how many landscaping lights Knuckles has, Higgs?”

  He winced, shoving a hand into the pocket of his bathrobe. “A lot?”

  I pointed my finger in the air. “That’s right. A. Lot. Oooh, that woman infuriates me, Higgs!”

  “Did he really do it?”

  I snorted in disdain. “With bells on, he did, tripping all over himself the entire way while she took a long hot bath. She’s the worst, and she’s taki
ng advantage of him. I think Goose was spot on about her. I don’t think her mistakes had anything to do with youth. I think she’s just mean. Now, get that shower, because the sooner she goes back to wherever she came from, the sooner we can all go back to normal.”

  “I’m on it,” he said, turning his back to us to head for his very white, very marble bathroom.

  I latched Jeff’s leash to his collar and gave him a tug toward the door, closing it behind me. “C’mon, buddy. I need to walk off some of this steam or it’s going to come out of my ears.”

  “She’s a wicked piece a work, huh, Trixie?” Jeff asked from below.

  I hit the elevator button and huffed an aggravated breath. “If you only knew. Knuckles is at the market right now because concentrated orange juice is processed and Suzanne can’t put processed food in her temple of a body. She only drinks fresh. The poor man was up half the night covering landscaping lights, and then back up at the crack of dawn to go get what she needs for breakfast.”

  Jeff scampered next to me as we got on the elevator, his claws clacking on the tile. “This isn’t like you, Trixie. You never complain about anything. She’s really got ya all twisted up.”

  I narrowed my eyes. Just the thought of Suzanne rankled, and I couldn’t seem to stop it from showing. “She’s horrible, Jeff. I hate the way she’s abusing Knuckles and his penchant for protecting and nurturing the people he cares about.”

  “Ya think he’s still got a thing for her?”

  My stomach sank at the thought as I watched the display of floor numbers drop until we stopped at the lobby. “I think he’s just in a bad place in his life, missing Candice like he has lately, but I hope not. I really hope not. And she’d better not have a thing for him. She’s been a widow for two-point-two whole seconds. She should be grieving, not toying with a man she did wrong and hasn’t seen in decades.”

  The elevator door popped open with a ding, and I stalked out of it, all worked up. As we made our way to the revolving glass door, I inhaled a cleansing breath, trying to rid myself of my ill will toward Suzanne. Everyone had an off day. Maybe Suzanne was having one last night and I was unfairly reacting to her demands. Today was a new day and I was going to start it with a clean slate.

  Hit and Nun

  Nun of Your Business Mysteries, Book 2

  Dakota Cassidy

  Published 2018 by Book Boutiques.

  ISBN: 978-1-946363-95-4

  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

  Sister Trixie Lavender here!

  After a rocky start (read: murdered landlord) to our arrival in Cobbler Cove, OR, things have finally slowed down.

  Er…mostly.

  My demon buddy Coop and I, along with our sassy talking owl Livingston, have settled nicely into our newly opened shop, Inkerbelle’s Tattoos.

  We’ve met some awesome people, including new friends Higgs and Knuckles, and we’re forging friendships with our fellow business owners. And sure, we’ve had a few glitches (see Jeff), but we’ve found our groove, our clientele is growing, and everything’s pretty great.

  That is, until Portland’s World Naked Bike Ride finds us smack dab in the middle of another murder mystery! Yep, you read that right. Naked people. On bikes. It ain’t pretty. And even less so when a dead, bare biker lands right on our doorstep.

  But this ex-nun is prepared this time. There’s not going to be any fumbling-around-in-the-dark nonsense for this girl. No, sir. I’ve trained, sacrificed, studied…

  Okay. Not true. I’ve binge-watched a lot of police shows on Netflix. But I’m armchair ready, if nothing else. So ready!

  Now, if only the evil spirit possessing me would let me investigate in peace—and I don’t end up dead in the process.

  Acknowledgements

  Cover Artist: Valerie Tibbs, Tibbs Design

  Author’s Note

  Hit and Nun

  Welcome to the Nun of Your Business Mysteries! I so hope you’ll enjoy the second 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, but do 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.

  Also, please note, the World Naked Bike Ride, which takes place every year in Portland, doesn’t have an official route. According to some research I’ve done, that’s to dissuade people lining the streets to watch (ahem), which poses public safety issues. I’ve taken liberties with the date of the ride and the route to suit my own purposes. So all you amazing Portlanders, please forgive my artistic license. The title worked so well with the event, I couldn’t resist.

  As I’ve mentioned in my previous cozy mysteries, there is 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

  “Jeeeff, Jeff-Jeff-Jeff-Jeff, slow down, little buddy,” I urged his adorable puppy face, giving him a quick scratch between his spry ears. “You’re talking a mile a minute. Take deep breaths.”

  “Ooooh, yeah!” He cooed a groan followed by a happy sigh. “That’s nice, Trixie. So nice.”

  Yes. That’s the dog talking. With a Boston accent, by the way. He sounds a lot like Peter Griffin from Family Guy. No. I’m not off my rocker. Jeff really is a talking dog. He sort of makes a nice pairing with our talking owl, Livingston.

  Rather like mac and cheese or eggs and bacon. Except the bacon’s a little tough and the eggs are a bit runny.

  Jeff sat for a moment at my feet, looking up at me with his soft brown eyes, his white and tan tufted eyebrows so expressive. “Sorry, Trixie. I can’t seem to control myself. My words just pour outta me like water from a fountain. I try to slow them down, but my mouth works wicked faster than my brain in this body. I always feel like I’m gonna explode.”

  I reached down and stroked his tan and white head. “I get it. On the inside, you’re a strong, silent pit bull but on the outside, you’re a yippy, excitable Yorkie who wants to lift his leg on everything, right?”

  “Winner-winner-chicken-dinner!” he crowed before letting out a howl he clearly couldn’t contain.

  I leaned back in my white Adirondack chair and nodded with a smile. “So we’ll take it slow. Let’s go over this one more time, okay?”

  “Alrighty-do, but I’m telling you, Trixie, it’s like a block. A big block in this pea brain I ended up with.”

  I tried not to show my discouragement, but we’d been doing this off and on for a few weeks now, since we’d first met, and I didn’t have much hope we’d ever fin
d out the message he was supposed to bring me, courtesy of Hell. Or if there really even was a message.

  Our friend Higgs, who owns the men-only Peach Street Shelter—or what we lovingly and jokingly call the GUY-MCA—found Jeff rooting around in the alleyway by the shelter, starving and homeless. So because Higgs had recently lost someone very close to him in a way that was nothing short of a painful betrayal of trust, he’d scooped Jeff up and the rest was history. He never went anywhere without him if he could avoid it.

  Higgs doted on Jeff like a new father dotes on a newborn, and it was adorable, if not a little disturbing, to see a big, tough, tattooed ex-undercover cop like Higgs use baby talk to coerce Jeff into taking his heartworm pills.

  I met Jeff shortly after Higgs found him a few weeks ago, at a party we’d hosted to get to know our fellow shop owners and neighbors and celebrate Higgs’s official release from a murder charge, which is where Jeff first approached me with an alleged message from Hell.

  A message he couldn’t remember.

  Now, after weeks of trying to get him to remember what that message was, I was beginning to think we’d never know, and I’d have to chalk it up to yet another unanswered question in my topsy-turvy world since being possessed by an evil spirit.

  If Hell really was trying to reach out to me—and I can assure you, the evil thing inside me has reached out plenty—then it’s crucial I make every effort to leave no stone unturned. I had to know I’d done everything I could to help Jeff remember if I hoped to protect myself from the forces of evil working to consume me.

  I don’t ever want to suffer another time in my life like I did when I was booted from the convent, a.k.a., The Great Mooning Incident of 2017.

  There’s even video of the incident—in case my shenanigans weren’t properly cemented in history by the gossiping all the nuns did after it occurred. I’ve seen it; it’s in the number two spot on my list of things I hope to never experience again.

  I often wondered what it would be like for me, for us, if Knuckles or Higgs saw me possessed and found out Coop was a demon? Worse, what if a client at Inkerbelle’s witnessed me in full-on possession? The very thought made me shudder.