Good morning! Happy Monday and Happy October! 🍂🎃🐈‍⬛👻💜

 Currently, I am on chapter 39, page 166 of "The Detective & The Socialite." If you read my previous posts concerning this novel, you would know this is quite a different size than the original, which was 13 chapters and roughly 80 pages (depending on line spacing). 

 I'm nearing the end, so almost ready to start editing the new version. I thought you'd be interested in a teaser, so I'm sharing Chapter 8 (with a few bits edited out for spoiler reasons). 

 One thing you may notice different from my previous novels published here is the indention. Some people don't care but others might be like me and notice those little differences. When I first wrote this story, I was using the 5 space indention style. I was trying to be as close to a traditional detective novel as possible, and the 5 spaces style is how I first learned to type stories. 

 When I brought this over into a new doc, the indentions automatically stayed the same. I thought of going through and shortening them to the double spaces most of us use now, but I like this style for this story. It may become a habit again. 

Please enjoy! 💜

     The living room, lit only by the afternoon light, echoed with a heavy knock on the solid wooden door. After a pause, the doorknob jiggled until it clicked. Slowly, the door opened on hinges recently oiled to reveal a small group of anxious men.

     They looked around toward the treeline behind them as the first one cautiously entered and looked about. There was a vehicle in the garage that had been recently driven. No one answered the knock, and no one was supposed to be there.

     Perhaps the previous owners had come by to check on the place and left the vehicle until they returned to gather the rest of their things. There were numerous possibilities, and the men couldn’t afford to make incorrect assumptions.

     “Pierce, where do we put our stuff?” one of them asked as they joined the first.

     “It’s supposed to have six rooms,” answered the man called Pierce. He dropped one of the bags he carried and hung a smaller one on a rack near the door. “Each of us gets one to ourselves,” he told them. “I get the big one. That’s where we’ll set up the equipment.”

     “Why’s it so damn hot in here?” he wondered as he shifted his black duffel bag over his shoulder.   

     He turned to look around for the thermostat just as another man found it.

     “The heater’s on,” replied the man wearing a plaid shirt.

     “Who the hell would set the heater in June?” asked another setting bags by the others.

     “Turn it off, Davis,” Pierce ordered the one near the thermostat.

     “Did the realtor know we were coming?” asked another. “Maybe she meant to turn on the air conditioner but hit heat, instead.”

     “No one was supposed to know,” Pierce answered, looking upward at the second floor. “Harrison, you and I will check it out. The rest of you, look around down here.” he commanded.  

     He set down his bag and reached into it. He released a handgun from its holster as he and Harrison climbed the solid wooden stairs to the second floor. 

     As Harrison explored a room on the left, Pierce walked directly down the hallway. It was open on the right to overlook the living room.

     He quietly made his way to the main room he had seen when he visited with the realtor. It was obviously the master bedroom and had an incredible view across the wide, clear river. A room with this view was their purpose for the cabin. 

     He opened the door carefully and walked in, hoping to find a logical and uneventful answer to all their questions and eager to get a bit of sleep after their long drive. 

     The soft white curtains lifted gently from the warm wind entering through the large opened windows. The sunshine beaming in allowed him to see everything. It was beautifully decorated with the elements of the mountain in mind.  

     The décor of the room, however, was not what caught his breath. The culprit for that was laying face down naked on the queen-sized bed, sound asleep with an opened book beside her. She had her head at the foot of the bed and her feet were crossed at the pillows. 

     Her creamy skin caught the sunlight and her soft curves caused gentle shadows upon the crisp white sheets. Her long honey-brown hair formed a wispy halo around her head and cascaded down the side. 

     He set his gun down quietly on the dresser before he moved around to look at her face. She was sleeping peacefully. He didn’t want to wake her, but he needed to let her know they were there. 

     He also wanted to find out what she was doing on state property. She wasn’t in any of the pictures of the previous owners, so he was positive she had no business there. Still, she didn’t look like any ordinary squatter, and he concluded that the expensive, newest edition Jeep in the garage was hers. 

     She was clean, with no sign of hard living. Her hair was well-kept, her hands were smooth, and the light pink polish on her nails looked recent. She took care of herself. She was somebody, so why was she trespassing? If she knew the previous owners, she would have known they moved. How did she have a key? The realtor had given him a new set after changing all the locks, as per their agreement upon purchase.

     He sighed quietly as he watched her sleep. He couldn’t help allowing his eyes to wander across her body until he saw again the strange marks around her ankles and wrists. Instead of a quick glimpse as he looked her over, he stared closer this time. What had this young woman gotten herself into, and was she there to hide from it?