Out today - 'It Takes an Archaeologist - Quint and Clay Art Crimes Book 4'!!

 It Takes an Archaeologist

Quint and Clay Art Crimes Book 4

https://www.jms-books.com/edward-kendrick-c-224_229/it-takes-an-archaeologist-p-3746.html

www.amazon.com/dp/B08ZZXRH8Q

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/it-takes-an-archaeologist-edward-kendrick/1139091867?ean=9781646567249

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/it-takes-an-archaeologist

 

GENRE: Gay Mystery Romance
LENGTH: 35,268 words
RATING:

Gideon Monahan is a man dedicated to what he does -- recovering stolen art -- to the exclusion of anything else, including a personal life. There's a reason for that, something that happened in his past that he can't forget.

Cole Newell is an archaeologist with a problem. He needs to find out who looted a dig he worked the previous summer, after one of the artifacts shows up at his gallery. Cole calls on Gideon to lend his expertise, which, much against his better judgment, Gideon does.

When one of the looters is murdered, they set out to find answers, with the help of Detective Quint Hawk. In the process, Cole realizes he's attracted to Gideon, even though he's certain the man is straight. After he helps Gideon open up about -- and accept -- his past, can the two men become more than friends? Both Gideon and Cole hope so, once they overcome the myriad problems facing them.

EXCERPT:

Gideon arrived at the gallery at ten-fifteen, as promised. Cole greeted him, escorting him into his office. On one wall there were shelves holding a variety of Native American artifacts -- from bowls to arrowheads to what appeared to be tools and axe heads. Bookshelves lined the second wall. A quick perusal showed Gideon that most of them related to Cole's line of work. No surprise there.

Cole's desk took up most of the third wall -- a state-of-the-art computer setup in the center. Next to the doorway was a small seating area with two chairs and a coffee table, as well as a low chest with a coffeemaker sitting on top. After Cole offered Gideon coffee, which he declined, they sat.

"I hope he shows up," Cole said.

"Why wouldn't he? Especially if the bowl is valuable."

"If I were to buy it from him, I'd offer somewhere in the neighborhood of five hundred dollars."

"And sell it for?" Gideon asked.

"Nine-fifty to a thousand, minimum."

Gideon smiled. "So you'd both make out like bandits. Just kidding," he added, when Cole frowned. "If the rest of what was stolen was as valuable, the man ... What is his name, by the way?"

"Oscar Ellis. Or at least that's what was on his driver's license and how he signed the contract for the appraisal."

"You doubt it's his real name?"

Cole shrugged. "Let's just say that since he was giving me a stolen bowl to appraise, it wouldn't surprise me if it was an alias."

"Good point. Do you mind if I take a look around the gallery while we're waiting for him?"

"Not at all, after you tell me what you have planned."

"Probably a good idea," Gideon agreed. "I presume you'll bring him in here? I'll join you a few minutes after I see that happen. I'm debating on being official, but understanding -- or just the opposite."

"Like a crook who wants his cut?" Cole asked, sounding appalled.

"Good heavens, no. Official and stern, like I've got him dead to rights and plan on arresting him, if he doesn't come clean on where he's stashed the rest of the items."

"Whew. I don't think I could pull off being your criminal accomplice."

Gideon laughed, then took his leave, going out to the gallery. In many ways, the main room was set up like a museum, with cases holding the various artifacts. There were paintings -- which he realized were done by modern tribal artists -- on the walls, as well two intricately woven textiles. There were also, he discovered, more recent pottery pieces. He suspected that was to catch the interest of the casual walk-in visitor.

He was examining the intricate beadwork on a pair of leggings in one of the cases when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Detective Quint Hawk standing there. Almost at the same time, they said, "What are you doing here?"

"You first," Gideon replied, fearing the worst.

"I'm here to talk to Mister, no, Doctor Newell. And you?"

Gideon puffed out a breath. "Helping Doctor Newell deal with a man he believes looted a dig he, Newell, worked at last summer."

Quint frowned. "That wouldn't by chance be Owen Elliot?"

"No. Cole ... Doctor Newell, said his name is Oscar Ellis."

"One and the same, according to what we found in Mr. Elliot's wallet. Is Doctor Newell around?"

"Yes. Come on. I'll take you to his office." Gideon slanted Quint a look. "I take it, since you're here, Mister Elliot is dead?"

"Very."

When they got to Cole's office, Cole looked up from what he was doing, then Gideon introduced the two men.

"A detective?" Cole said worriedly. "Believe me, everything we have here has been authenticated."

Quint nodded. "I'm sure it has been, Doctor Newell."

"Please call me Cole. Then why ..."

"We found your card in Owen Elliot's wallet -- or as you apparently knew him, Oscar Ellis' wallet -- with a notation Monday -- eleven A.M."

"I wrote that to remind him of our appointment today." Cole frowned. "He's been arrested?"

"No. He was murdered last night."

"Damn." Cole sank back in his chair. "You're sure it was him?"

"Yes. From his fingerprints and some of the ID in his wallet."

"How?" Gideon asked.

"He was bludgeoned to death, sometime around one A.M., in the parking lot behind a fast-food restaurant. No witnesses, although an employee who was getting ready to close for the night heard some shouting. He called 911. By the time the officers arrived, Elliot was dead."

 

Don't Touch Me! - 30

"Do you remember how long he was in here?" Brent tapped Cody's photo.

"Hmm. Maybe an hour? He was drinking real slow. Finally got up and left."

"He only had one beer?"

"Yep. Far as I remember."

"What about the two men you mentioned?"

"Don't remember how many they had."

Brent chuckled. "No. I mean, when did they leave?"

Norm closed his eyes. "I think one of them left right after the kid. But don't quote me on that."

"I won't," Brent replied, smiling.

Norm looked over as the door to the bar opened. "Hang on a sec." He got up, going over to greet the newcomer. They talked for a moment, then Norm brought the man over, introducing him as Red, "Because of his hair."

Red looked at Cody's photo and nodded. "I recall him. I took off the same time he did. Had to get home before the wife decided to kill me."

"Did you see which way he went?"

"Yeah. Headed right, then went into the cut-through between the dress shop and the restaurant down the street. I figured he probably lived that direction and was taking a shortcut."

"Do you remember the man who left the same time the two of you did?"

"Yep. He followed the kid. Well, not sure he was following him, but when the kid turned into the cut-through, the guy was right there a second later, watching. More than that I can't say 'cause I went the other direction."

"Okay. Thanks for talking to me. Would you like a beer?" When Red grinned and nodded, Brent bought him one. "What did this man look like? Is he a regular?"

"Sorta tall, burly, dirty blond hair," Norm replied. "I've seen him in here a couple of times but not recently."

Brent made note of the description, despite the fact it was so vague it could fit dozens of men. Then he finished his beer, thanked the men again, and took off.

Don't Touch Me! - 29

Entering the bar Cody had visited a year ago, Brent looked for an empty table. None were available so he took the only vacant stool at the bar. When the bartender came over, Brent ordered a beer then said, "I don't suppose there's a chance in hell you were working here a year ago."

The man chuckled. "Actually, I was. Not every night, of course. Why?"

Brent showed him Cody's picture. "Do you remember this guy?"

"Nope. Why are you asking?"

"My name's Brent. I'm a private investigator, Mr.…" Brent looked at him in question.

"Tom."

"Okay, Tom. This man was in here on the twenty-fifth of May last year." He had gotten the date from Cody. "I need to find someone who remembers him being here and leaving that evening."

"That's pretty damned specific." Tom glanced down the bar at a customer who was trying to get his attention. "There's a couple of regulars who might. Let me talk to them when I get a free second and send them over. Mind if I hang on to this"—he waved the photo—"to show them?"

"Be my guest." He waited for Tom to deliver his beer then turned with his back to the bar, drinking while he surveyed the people at the tables. They were the usual types one found in a local bar—men, women, couples, all out for few drinks before heading home for the night. There were a few older men seated at the far end of the bar. Brent wasn't too surprised to see Tom approach them with the photo. Three of them shook their heads. Another one said something and Tom pointed at Brent.

A moment later, the old man wandered down to join Brent. "I remember this kid." He gave back the photo. "Mainly 'cause I'd never seen him in here and he sort of stood out. Like he was sort of…well, look at him. If he's not a fag, I don't know who is."

"Don't like fags, huh?" Brent replied, keeping his voice calm.

The man shrugged. "Got nothing against them, but this isn't the kind of bar they hang out in, if you get my meaning."

"Yep. Did he talk to anyone while he was here?"

Rather than answering, the man eyed Brent's beer. Brent got the message and ordered one for him, asking his name as he did. When it arrived, Norm—as he'd told Brent—took a deep swig, then said, "The kid just sat there"—he pointed to a seat at the end of the bar—"drinking and watching. I figured either he felt out of place or he was shy."

"Did anyone seem to pay special attention to him?"

Norm obviously pondered the question while taking another drink. "Yeah, now that you mention it, there was two guys sitting at a back table who kept eyeing him. Like they didn't like the cut of his jib."

 

Don't Touch Me! - 28

They walked on to the corner, then took a left. After a couple of blocks, Cody pointed. "That's the bar I told you about."

Brent nodded. "I'd suggest we go in, but it looks busy. I'll come back later to see if anyone remembers the last time you were there."

"They won't."

"Haven't I told you not to be a doomsayer? Someone might. I'll need a picture of you, though, if you have one."

"I do. Remind me when we get back. It was taken for the cover of my last book, before the publisher decided the mystery of who I am was helping sell them."

"Interesting theory. I sometimes wondered about that. I'm used to seeing an author's picture on the back of a book, or on the inside flap of the dust-jacket, with some sort of bio."

"I am 'the great and mysterious Oz'," Cody intoned.

Brent laughed. "I believe it's 'the great and powerful Oz', but mysterious works."

Grinning, Cody replied, "Whatever."

"You have a nice smile."

"Umm, okay. What brought that on?"

"Seeing it. It's been pretty much nonexistent since I've known you."

"Yeah, well, I haven't had much to smile about until today."

"I know. But it's going to change. Soon, you'll be smiling every day."

"If I—we—can figure out what happened in those lost hours." Cody shook his head. "I don't know if it's possible."

Brent looked seriously at him. "I'm glad you said 'we', because I'm as much a part of this now as you are."

"I know." Hesitantly, Cody reached out to touch Brent's arm. "Thank you for that."

Brent smiled. "For you…anything."

"You mean it, don't you?" Cody said, withdrawing his hand.

"Very much. So let's get you home then I'm going to pay that bar a visit."

'Strays in the Time of Covid' is out today!

 STRAYS IN THE TIME OF COVID

https://www.jms-books.com/edward-kendrick-c-224_229/strays-in-the-time-of-covid-p-3739.html 

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08Z7KBT7C

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/strays-in-the-time-of-covid-edward-kendrick/1139038181?ean=9781646567218

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/strays-in-the-time-of-covid

 

GENRE: Gay Romance
LENGTH: 30,487 words
RATING:

Beaten and thrown out of his home by his father, Guy ends up on the streets. A few days later he's 'adopted' by two strays, a German shepherd mix and a gray kitten.

Later that night, when he returns to a vacant house he'd found the previous day, he meets three other homeless teens -- Mack, Tone, and Dani. After a false start, because they think he's a punk looking for trouble, they become friends. Dani insists the animals need names, and she decides to call the kitten Ghost, while the dog becomes Shadow.

When Mack and Guy are threatened by two real punks in the alley behind the house, Shadow defends them, with Mack's help. This leads to their decision that it isn’t safe to remain where they are. As they move on, the quartet's friendship deepens, and Guy eventually trusts them enough to tell them he's gay ... which they accept with no problem, as it turns out so are Mack and Tone.

Now they have to continue dealing with life on the streets while COVID ravages the country, making being homeless a fight for their very survival.

EXCERPT:

When they arrived at the house, and the broken window, Guy stuffed his mask in his pocket before telling the dog, "We're here." The dog looked singularly unimpressed and Guy wondered if he'd balk at going inside. He hoped not because he liked the sense of security the dog gave him. He put the kitten down before climbing through the window and then reached through to pick it up. Holding it against his chest, he looked at the dog who was eyeing him dubiously. "Come," he whispered, taking two steps back. A moment later the dog jumped down beside him. Guy patted his head and then walked cautiously through the dark basement to the stairs.

When they got to the top, the dog gave a deep growl, followed by a warning bark. Guy heard rustling and then someone called out, "Keep the dog away from us."

He wrapped his hand in the long hair at the dog's neck, knowing it would do nothing to restrain him if he decided to attack whoever was there. "Behave," he said firmly. The dog looked up at him and relaxed ... marginally ... as they walked through the empty kitchen into what had probably been the dining room. Three teens sat on sleeping bags along the far wall.

The dog growled, again, but didn't leave Guy's side.

"He gonna attack if you tell him too?" one of them asked, pulling back into the shadows against the wall.

Guy shrugged. "He might, but I won't unless you give me a reason."

The teen held up his hands. "Not looking for trouble."

A second one, who in the dim light looked as if he was around eighteen, scowled as he took a length of pipe from his backpack and stood up. "You try anything, punk, and I'll beat the shit out of you and your dog."

"I'm not a punk," Guy protested, grabbing the dog's hair again when it seemed as if he might go after the guy with the pipe. "I'm homeless, like you."

"Uh-huh. The hair says different."

Guy knew he had a point. One he hadn't thought of until that moment. "If I'd had a choice, it would still be as long as yours. My dad did this to me." He ran his hand over his head. "Before he beat me and tossed me out."

"For real?" To Guy's surprise, the voice sounded female. A moment later he saw he was right when she got up to join her friend, putting one hand on his arm. "Ease it back a notch, Mack. What kind of punk carries a cat with him?"

"Maybe it's an attack cat." The third team member laughed as he stood to join them.

Guy snorted. "Not that I know of, but then I only found it, and the dog, an hour or so ago. I think they're strays, like, well, like all of us I guess."

"And they just happened to decide to keep you company?" the belligerent or, Guy thought, more likely protective teen asked.

With a shrug, Guy nodded. "I fed them from a Dumpster and I guess they figured it would be a good idea to stick with me."

"Can I pet the cat?" the girl asked.

"Umm, sure." Guy put the kitten down. The girl knelt, smiling when it came to her outstretched hand, allowing her to rub its head.

"What's its name?"

"I don't know," Guy told her. "Same with the dog. Like I said, I just found them and they don't have collars or tags."

"You gotta name them. You can't just call them dog and cat."

"Well, he could," Mack, the protective teen, said with a brief smile. He tossed the pipe on his sleeping bag, which Guy hoped meant he finally trusted him.

"What's another word for gray?" the last teen asked.

"No clue," Guy replied.

"I know, you can call him, or her, Ghost, or Ash." The girl picked the kitten up, turning it on its back. "Her, I think. No dick."

"Not sure you'd see it unless it was peeing," Mack pointed out.

"Well she looks like a she, so how about Ghost. That's, what do they call it? Gender neutral?" She looked up at Guy.

"I suppose Ghost works. What do you think, cat?"

Still holding the kitten, who of course didn't answer Guy's question, the girl returned to her sleeping bag and sat down, cradling Ghost in her arms. "Now, the dog needs a name."

Mack and the other teen sat, too. Mack patted the edge of his bag. "You can join us if you want, umm ...?"

"Don't laugh. I'm Guy. A guy named Guy, which got me teased sometimes." He hesitated before accepting Mack's invitation. When he was seated the dog settled beside him, obviously having decided by then that the teens were no threat to his new friend.

"I'm Dani, one n and an i, and that's Tone." She nodded toward the third member of their team. "I think it's short for Tony but he denies it."

"It's not, damn it," Tone stated emphatically.

"Whatever." She grinned. "So, dog, what'll we call you?"