Glimmer Of Dragons: The Other Realm, #0.5
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Every dog has its day. Mine has its own realm.
I can tell when you're lying. Every. Single. Time.
As a private investigator, being a walking talking lie detector is a useful skill but let's face it, it's not normal. You'd think it would make my job way too easy, but even with my weird skills, I still haven't been able to track down my parent's killers.
I'm hired to retrieve a lost heirloom, but I have no idea that the job is going to send me careening into a co-existing magical realm where my dog is a hell hound, and where there are werewolves and dragons and elves…
Some of whom will stop at nothing to hide their lies…
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Glimmer Of Dragons - Heather G Harris
Glimmer of Dragons
The Other Realm Series, A Prequel Novella
Heather G. Harris
Copyright
Copyright © 2021 by Heather G. Harris
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Contents
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
Chapter 1
image-placeholder‘I’m going to kill you!’ Mrs Sanderson screamed at her husband. I felt relieved as my internal radar pinged. Lie.
Thank goodness I wasn’t about to witness a murder. I’d stared into the underbelly of human existence a few times, but I hadn’t witnessed a murder yet. The aftermath, but not the action itself. I had so few ‘I have nevers’ left’.
I couldn’t help but feel a little responsible for this particular pickle. Sure, Mr Sanderson had brought it on himself by the whole cheating thing. But, as Mrs Sanderson’s private investigator, I was the one who had dug it all up. And taken photos. And videos. And sent them to my client.
Truthfully, all I’d gotten was some evidence of some hot and heavy petting. For plenty of clients, that was enough: foreplay still ticked the cheating box. With hindsight, I should have waited until the promiscuous couple had gone somewhere private to get it on before I sent the email. How was I to know they were in Mr and Mrs Sanderson's ‘special spot’? I didn’t think my cuckolded client would recognise the place, let alone turn up for a smackdown. Honestly, I think at least half Mrs Sanderson’s rage was due to the fact he’d taken his secretary for a romantic picnic at ‘their’ special place. The other half of the rage was due solely to the cheating thing.
Mrs Sanderson might not have been willing to kill, but I winced a little as she smashed her fist into the face of her erstwhile husband. She was currently giving him a piece of her mind – and her fist. I don’t generally encourage violence, even though I’m proficient in it, but it was hard to feel that Mrs Sanderson was in the wrong. Her tirade was in full flow; she had given him the best years of her life and he was shtupping the secretary. An affair was bad enough, but he hadn’t even had the decency to be discreet. I’d been on the job for all of half a day. And besides, doing the secretary was just an embarrassing cliché.
I’ve found that most cheating spouses react in a number of set ways when confronted. One is ‘the pleader’, who begs his wife to forgive him and explains that Hussy Number 1 means nothing to him. Two is the ‘man’ excuse: he does really love you but he has needs. Three is the worst. Three is the sneerer; what did you expect when you’ve let yourself go? I hate threes. I was honestly a bit relieved that Mr Sanderson was a pleader.
His beautiful secretary, the aforementioned Hussy Number 1 in this scenario, was watching him with her luscious lips wide open, eyes batting in disbelief, as he told his wife that nothing had really happened, lie, and that he loved her dearly, true. Hussy’s eyes narrowed and her hands rose to her hips. Hussy Number 1 wasn’t taking this lying down. I was warming to her.
‘Have the decency not to lie, George,’ she said, glaring at him. ‘We’ve been sleeping together for six months. You told me you were in the midst of a divorce. I would never, ever have considered dating you if I’d known you were still together.’ True.
Mrs Sanderson’s rage was wholly focused on her husband. She waved Not-So-Hussy’s explanation away. ‘I don’t blame you, you weren’t to know better. You didn’t put a ring on my finger and swear to be loyal to me for better or for worse.’ All true. Poor Mrs Sanderson. Her voice rose louder and louder.
Mr Sanderson was looking forlorn and desperate. His left eye was already puffing up nicely. Mrs Sanderson had scored a direct hit.
On days like today, my job didn’t