A Deadly Bone to Pick - Softcover

Rothschild, Peggy

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0593437101 ISBN 13: 9780593437100

Verlag: Penguin Publishing Group, 2023

Inhaltsangabe

When Molly Madison, dog-wrangler extraordinaire, stumbles upon a murder in her new hometown, she must track down a killer to save the day.

Ex-police officer and former P.I. Molly Madison is starting over. After the death of her husband, she and her golden retriever, Harlow, move cross-country to California. But as charming and peaceful as the beachside town seems, she soon learns its tranquil tides hold dark secrets.
 
On her first day in the new house, a large, slobbering Saint Berdoodle wanders in. Molly winds up taking on the responsibility of training Noodle since his owner is too busy to do the job. On one of their daily beachside walks, Noodle digs up a severed hand. Once Molly alerts the police and they run a background check on her, an incident from her past makes her an immediate suspect—after all, Noodle’s testimony to clear her name won’t hold much water in court. 
 
To prove her innocence, Molly must rely on instincts keener than a canine’s to sniff out the real killer. But when Molly’s life is put in danger, will her two very loyal pups be able to rescue her?

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

After losing their home during a California wildfire, Peggy Rothschild and her husband moved to the beach community of Los Osos along the central coast. When not at her desk or out walking, you can usually find her in the garden.
 
Peggy is a member of Sisters in Crime National and Sisters in Crime Los Angeles. A DEADLY BONE TO PICK is her first cozy mystery.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

"Please be careful with that." I winced as the two muscle-bound men, dressed in matching navy-blue uniforms, wrestled the antique ship captain's desk through the front door. "It was my great-grandfather's." In reality, it had belonged to something like my great-great-great-great-grandfather. But why would they care? Nor would they care that Mom insisted I take the desk-part of a misguided effort to show she believed I'd move back to Massachusetts one day.

 

 

My golden retriever, Harlow, tail waving, practically vibrated with her desire to meet these potential new friends.

 

"Stay." As much as I expected every person to love my dog, this was not the time. Ever obedient, she settled onto the travertine tile.

 

"Where do you want it?" Muscle Man Number One said.

 

"On the second floor. Here, I'll show you." The front door stood wide open. I looked back at Harlow and told her to stay again, then led the way up the broad staircase. I hoped my few possessions all made it safely inside. But, even if they didn't, nothing here was irreplaceable.

 

I wanted this move to work out. No, not wanted. Needed. I needed this move to work out. My gaze blurred. I wiped my eyes and hustled to the landing.

 

When I reached the hall, I hesitated. Was I sure I wanted to use the ocean-facing room for my office? The alley-facing room to the left would offer morning light. Shaking my head, I entered the first door on the right side of the hall. It didn't matter where I put the antique desk. My work life was effectively over.

 

Ruined. Destroyed. Finito. Just like my personal life.

 

Shaking off a fresh wave of sadness, I entered the smallest of the three upstairs bedrooms. "Right there." I pointed at the bare wall under the west-facing window.

 

As the movers unwrapped the desk, I trotted back downstairs. Harlow stood and smiled, tail still wagging. I knelt next to her and scratched the spot below her ears. "You are such a good girl. I move you all the way across the country and you roll with it." I buried my face in the ruff along the back of her neck. As soon as my eyes closed, Stefan's face shimmered before me. I took a deep breath and looked into Harlow's warm eyes. "We may not be lucky, but we've got each other, right?"

 

Harlow thumped her tail.

 

"Helloooo?"

 

Startled, I raised my gaze to the vision filling my open front door. Standing at least five feet ten, not counting the cobalt-blue stilettos, the bottle blonde in an emerald tank and black leggings gave a finger wave. "Hi."

 

Before I could scramble to my feet, she strutted inside. "Sorry to intrude. Are you the new neighbor?"

 

"That's me. Molly Madison." I extended my hand. "And you are?"

 

"Seville Chambers." We shook, then she gave a mock bow. "At your service. Since you're new, I figured I should tell you to keep your doors shut. Always."

 

The moving men tromped down the stairs. Faced with two people who dwarfed her-at least in bulk-Seville stepped past me into the great room. "Sorry to pop in this way when you're not even settled. But I saw the open door and thought you should be warned."

 

That didn't sound good. "Warned about what?"

 

"Frankendoodle."

 

I couldn't imagine anything called Frankendoodle being a cause for concern. But the crease between Seville's eyes seemed to indicate she was serious. Not wanting to be labeled the neighborhood grouch, I kept my expression interested. "I'm sorry, but who-or what-is a Frankendoodle?"

 

Seville pointed at the doorway. An ivory and mocha monster filled the opening, upturned tail swinging like a metronome. "That's the Frankendoodle."

 

"Good lord." The dog had to weigh close to two hundred pounds. I checked Harlow. She was still sitting, but her nose twitched, obviously eager for the go-ahead to meet a new playmate. I neared the door, holding out my hand to the dog. "Hey, there."

 

He nudged my palm. "So, you want some pets, huh?" Seeing Harlow bristle, I called her closer and told her to sit. Keeping my body between the two dogs, I reached one hand out to stroke the Golden while running the other along our visitor's curly coat. "You're a sweet fella, aren't you?"

 

"Excuse us." The movers approached the front porch with my sofa.

 

I urged the humongous dog inside and out of their path. He gave a deep woof as the men entered. "It's okay." I rubbed his head and soft brown ears, then turned my focus to the moving men. "That goes over there." I pointed at the great room before glancing up at Seville. "I'm guessing he's a Saint Berdoodle? Half poodle, half Saint Bernard?"

 

"No clue. Don't get me wrong, he's friendly enough, but if you leave your door open, he'll walk right in and drool all over everything. Six months ago he absolutely ruined one of my silk blouses."

 

The ropey skein hanging from his mouth backed up Seville's drool claim. "Where does he live?"

 

"Just down the street. At Dr. Joe Handsome's."

 

"Dr. Joe Handsome?"

 

"Okay, his last name is Johannson. But he really is a doctor. Once you get a look at him, you'll call him Joe Handsome, too."

 

"You actually call him that?"

 

"Not to his face. Besides, the man barely speaks to me anymore. Not since the Silk Blouse Summit."

 

Not sure whether to pursue this detail, I dried my hand on my jeans and straightened. "And which house is yours?"

 

"I'm right across the street. The tan Mediterranean. If you need help getting to know where anything is in town, just ask." She pulled out her cell. "Give me your number and I'll send you mine."

 

"Sure."

 

We exchanged digits. I checked on the movers while keeping one eye on the dogs. The men were still unwinding the plastic from my sofa. After patting Harlow, I ran my fingers through the Saint Berdoodle's fur and found his tags. Who engraved their dog's name on a tag but didn't include a contact number or license? Goofball. "So Frankendoodle's a nickname."

 

"It's appropriate."

 

I looked back at my retriever. "Harlow, come." My dog bounded over to meet the Saint Berdoodle. "Meet Noodle." Both dogs sniffed each other, tails wagging. I grabbed a thick piece of knotted hemp from the toy basket and tossed it to them. Harlow bit down on one end and shook it. Noodle pranced, then snatched the other end and pulled. "Smart dog."

 

"I couldn't help noticing the moving van's almost empty."

 

Since the truck was blocking a large section of the alley, I was sure all my new neighbors were counting down the minutes until it left. "They'll be out of the way soon."

 

Seville shook her head. "Don't worry about that. I just mentioned it because your furnishings seem sort of sparse."

 

I looked around, trying to see the ground floor through Seville's eyes: no entry room table, no stools lining the kitchen bar, no dining table, no pictures on the walls, no tchotchkes or mementos of the past anywhere in sight.

 

"Is another truck coming with the rest of your things?"

 

"Nope. This is it. For now."

 

"Is this some sort of feng shui thing?"

 

No way was I going to explain how I'd sold or given away nearly everything Stefan had bought for our house in Duxbury. "Most of my old stuff wouldn't look right here, so I got rid of it." I checked to be sure the dogs were still getting along before turning back to...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Penguin Publishing Group
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2023
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0593437101
• ISBN 13: 9780593437100
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 320
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Nicht verfügbar