Murder in Color Excerpt
The day didn’t get better. Not at all. The chief capitulated where Baino hadn’t and granted Arman and his partner access over the “case of the yellow paint” as he deemed it. I got the distinct impression that he was having a hard time believing it wasn’t anything more than a joke, but that he wanted to cover his ass. Which was probably why he assigned Baino and Rhodes to head the investigation jointly with the other two detectives from my old station.
And all that meant to me was my lab became a breeding ground for officers, as if I’d hauled open the door and shouted up the stairwell that I had free drinks and strippers for all.
“Can’t you base your operations upstairs at your desks?” I demanded when Arman spread out some files on my counter. “Or maybe in one of the conference rooms? Blazes, take over the break room, why don’t you? This is my lab.”
“We will, we will,” said Arman, his voice soothing as he laid a hand against my bicep.
I didn’t exactly brush him off, but I did swallow down the nasty retort on my tongue and spin around, where I almost ran smack into Jevette Tunalti. Unlike Arman, his hands didn’t seem to have the incessant need to grab me as if I couldn’t stay on my own two feet without his guidance. And unlike Arman, he didn’t seem all that excited to see me.
“Salain,” said Jevette in a terse greeting.
He had a deep, raspy voice. The kind that couldn’t shout across a crowded, noisy room and hope to be heard. But then again, he’d never needed to. People listened when Jevette opened his mouth. Even Arman. Maybe especially Arman since the two of them had been partners for at least nine years and counting, despite all my fumbling, accidental attempts to pull them apart.
“Jevette,” I muttered. “Nice to see you.” Continue reading