Many of you have heard me rave about my latest novel,
SILENCED. It's the first in the Cybil Lewis series and one story that's near and dear to my heart. Cybil's residence is in the D.C. district, but most of
SILENCED, takes place in the Memphis quadrant. Being originially from Tennessee (Knoxville), the southern piece of this story is my favorite.
Since Cybil is so new, I'm going to post an excerpt from her story here for your reading enjoyment.
Enjoy.
Nicole Givens Kurtz
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Excerpt from
SILENCED: A Cybil LewisNovelAvailable from Parker Publishing, LLC
Price: $10.95
Genre: Science Fiction Hybrid
(From Chapter 1...)
Two floors later, I fled the tiny elevator space and moldy air for the somewhat cleaner breeze of the air-conditioned hallway. As I approached my office down the sixth floor corridor, I noticed an armed bodyguard posted outside. He wore opaque, sunglasses and a big navy blue jacket that could have been used as an elephant tent. I caught a brief glimpse of my reflection in his glasses as I passed him and entered my office.
His post outside my place of employment didn't work well if he wanted to be incognito.
But with bleached blonde hair, a turquoise blue sweater and shiny black shoes, perhaps incognito wasn't what he was going for.
Let's not overlook the big-barreled Bronzing laser gun he held over his chest like a crucifix.
Now everyone who passed my office would know that someone who _thought_ they were important was inside.
As you walk in from the hallway, the lobby's layout consisted of Marsha's desk in the center. Her desk was flanked by the door to my private office on the right and Jane's, my inspector in training, desk on the left
Immediately I didn't like what I saw.
Seated in the two visitors' chairs were two more goon-heads like the one outside, each wore navy-blue jackets and turquoise sweaters. They smelled like honeysuckles mixed with gun powder. One of the bodyguards, a male had a serious hair loss condition and the other, a rail thin female of no older than eighteen reached for her weapons when I entered.
Jumpy and possibly trigger-happy?
Tuesday was already looking up.
Marsha's empty chair had been moved over to join the two visitors' seats and there sat Mayor Christensen, of the Memphis Quadrant, in all her polished, political glory.
Jane, my inspector-in-training, looked up from her desk and stood, a look of complete angst on her face. Oh, Jane, what have you been up to?
"Cybil…"
I'd never actually met the mayor before, but I had seen enough of her grinning picture in many jpegs and e-news files to know her upon sight. Pretty and well dressed in a manner consistent with those of power and privilege, the mayor of the Memphis quadrant was a media favorite. Every little detail, down to the most meaningless of things, was reported with fervor all over the online tabloids. The Internet mags thrived with coverage of her triumphs, failures, and risky political moves.
"Good afternoon, Mayor Christensen. What brings you to D.C.?" I asked nicely, ignoring Jane.
She could explain it later—although I was curious to see what spin she would put on this.
Jane sat down at her desk, her hands twisting together in front of her as she kept her eyes on the mayor and me. Already a thin line of sweat decorated her upper lip and even from across the room, I could see her eyes flittered around, unable to focus on one thing.
Yep, she had done something she knew I'd be pissed about.
I don't like being ambushed and despite what Jane would tell me later, the situation definitely felt like an ambush. If it quacks like a duck, walks like a duck, and looks like a duck, then it surely is a duck.
Ditto the ambush.
Mayor Annabelle Christensen, Belle to Jane and other family members, was as Southern as grits and bluegrass music. She had occupied the mayoral seat of the Memphis quadrant for at least ten years. The Memphis quad extended up as far north to what was once Louisville, Kentucky and as far south as the modern day Jackson, Mississippi. The quad's eastern border stopped at the eastern border of what was once Tennessee, dipped down to the former Mississippi. The Mississippi River served as the western border to not only the Memphis quad, but also the entire Southeast Territories to which Memphis was the largest quadrant.
She rose from her seat like a queen, gracefully and with the air of royalty. Her media smile was glued to her face. The room smelled like sweet southern honeysuckles and was thick with humidity.
The mayor had been waiting a long time since her scent seemed infused into the office's atmosphere.
"Ms. Lewis, so good to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you and your work," she said, her voice like syrup, thick and sugary seemed to drop on me in heavy globs. "I wish it could be on better terms. I assure you that what I have to say will not waste your time."
Jane fidgeted in her seat as if she wasn't sure about the claim her aunt was making.
I didn't look over at her, but I could feel how uncomfortable Jane was. When you partner with someone for the time Jane and I had been together, you don't need to see them to know what they were thinking or feeling…you just knew.
"What do you want?" I asked, ready for the game to be over and failing to keep my irritation out of my voice. Mind games, pomp and circumstance didn't suit me well. My immediate dislike for the mayor didn't help the situation either, and beneath my attempts at professionalism, I think she heard it.
Her eyebrows rose and her mouth made a small little 'o'.
She quickly recovered and her media smile was back on, full blast as if I hadn't said anything.
Despite the grin, a smarminess seemed to radiate out from her heart-shaped face as if she was restraining her own dislike for me.
Sometimes, a person doesn't have to do anything to you for you to dislike them. It had to do with chemicals and personalities and other biological complex stuff.
I didn't know the exact chemicals, but I knew I didn't like Mayor Christensen.
Moreover, I didn't trust her.
Already pain nibbled at the edge of exploding along the base of my neck. Stress. I didn't feel like bullshitting around with the mayor and her entourage of goons. Had the clientele been a little seedier, I'd shot someone by now.
I have only so much honey in my system a day. Nice people, sometimes-even clients (when we get one) received small doses of my honey. My mother used to say I had an overabundance of vinegar. Of course, bees liked honey, and no one liked vinegar.
Right now, my honey supply of kindness was ebbing away faster than the eastern coastline.
The two bodyguards reached into their jackets threateningly, their eyes narrowed and attached to me. I fought the urge to smile and wave back at them.
Mayor Christensen's red painted lips opened to speak, but instead she waved the goons into submission. A reddish flush appeared on her cheeks.
"May I speak with you in private?"
I shrugged and headed to my private office with her in tow. I unlocked the doors with my
fingerprint and they slid open. I dropped my satchel on my big oak desk as I stepped into the room and remained standing behind it. It was big, open space, and had room for all of my belongings.
Mayor Christensen did not sit in my only visitor's chair.
With that well-bred posture, she remained standing as she scanned the walls of my private office taking it in. I knew what she was seeing, and I didn't really care. Everything in the office came secondhand or was here when I leased the space twelve years ago. The walls were adorned with newspaper and electronic clippings of various cases I had either been involved with or solved. The yellowing on some of the actual paper ones had chipped and split along the edges. New jpegs had been enlarged and added with updated electronic articles about recent cases.
"Mayor, why are you here?" I asked tightly, my voice edgy and impatient. With amazing effort, I tried to hang on to some professionalism. It slipped out of my hands, like sands through an hourglass. "I do have work to do."
I had a good idea of what the mayor wanted. Still I wanted her to say it, to speak it out and to ask. There was something naughty in the smile I gave her. The edges curled up in a dark satisfaction of knowing that I'd refuse her request anyway.
She brought her eyes back to mine and pressed her lips together before talking as if trying to keep her mouth from saying things she might regret later. With three more attempts, she finally spoke.
"Miss Lewis, I am from tough southern people who aren't bothered by mosquitoes, wauto wrecks, or mouthy inspectors."
Her voice lost its sweetness and turned hard, like wet sugar left out in the cold. In place of the soft, worried mother, was now the voice of a hard politician who thought I would cower and obey her every whim.
Obviously, she did not know me very well…
"The Memphis regulators are idiots," she was saying, her hands folded neatly in front of her.
"They have bungled my daughter's missing person's case and I want the bastard that took Mandy found," she finished, her voice demanding, her eyes seething with anger and raw emotion.
Will the real Mayor Christensen please stand up? There is something knowing, hell creepy, about someone who could flip the coin of her personality like that. It made me want to lock my satchel in the safe, and nail down the valuables.
She stood there in her immaculate gray suit that cost more than my monthly food budget allowed. The layers of make-up didn't hide the bluish circles under her eyes, or the new crop of wrinkles along her forehead the photos and media coverage seemed to have missed or airbrushed.
"In case you haven't noticed, this is a long way from Memphis," I said, my temper escaping into thin strips of exasperation. "And I don't respond well to threats and name calling."
The mayor's eyes held mine.
"I apologize," she said forcefully, as if she didn't really mean it. "You're the best in this business, or so I'm told." She crossed her arms over her chest. "You solved that case that sent Governor Price packing to Alamogordo Cradle a few years back."
"Yeah, I did. But the answer is still no," I said back, inserting my own steeliness into my voice.
The Change met with certain death and several key political figures were apprehended, killed, or promoted depending on what side of the case they landed on. It garnished me some publicity and the client list swelled after that, like a monsoon rain, drowning me in payments, vile human actions, and action.
It had since dried up.
I came around to stand close to her, to face her so that she knew she wasn't intimidating me. I was taller by about three inches and weighed more than her for sure, which somehow didn't make me feel all that great.
The doors to my private office opened and Jane came in, cautiously. She stood inside the entranceway. She opened her mouth to say something and quickly closed it.
Smart girl.
Mayor Christensen ran her hand through her light brown Afro, ruining its puffiness.
"Miss Lewis, I have come all this way. The regulators are no closer to solving this than they were four weeks ago! Time is ticking away, and my, my baby is out there somewhere. These are dangerous times, as you well know. Help me find her, please."
Suddenly, she was the sweet, southern girl from Memphis, twang and all—the distressed parent,
not the bullying politician.
This one was quite the actress.
I shrugged. "As a rule, I don't investigate cases where the regulators have already been called in."
My friend Daniel Tom, a regulator and the only one competent one on the D.C. staff would kill me for meddling in his case without his permission. I'm sure the Memphis regs felt the same way.
She stared me, aghast. "As a rule? This is my daughter, Miss Lewis, surely…"
"Yeah, a rule. You should know about those. They're kind of like regulations…laws. When you are self-employed you can make up rules for your business. That's one of mine."
I did not dance to the beat of anyone's drummer, but my own, especially not that of some big shot politician. She could bring all the muscle she wanted, but I wasn't budging unless I wanted to.
Call me stubborn. Call me cautious. I didn't like the way this whole thing was unfolding.
"I will double your usual retainer," she said as she looked around the office. "It seems you can use it."
Jane winced, but still didn't speak.
"No," I said, struggling to keep my displeasure from going nuclear. "I just explained it to you. I don't do regulator ruined cases."
"Miss Lewis-"
"No."
My voice was louder than I wanted. Could it be that she just didn't get it? I wasn't taking her on as a client. Was it because she was a mayor and no one in the Memphis quadrant told her no that she seemed to not understand what the word meant?
Or could it be that she was so desperate to find her daughter, no was unthinkable?
I wasn't quite sure yet, but I did know one thing…I didn't like the ambush and it had put me in a bad mood.
Mayor Christensen stiffened as if slapped.
Jane finally spoke. "Cybil…"
I waved her off. My ire boiled beneath my somewhat awkward grin. I didn't take kindly to people barging into my office with a trio of paid thugs to flex on me. If you truly wanted my help, there were better ways to ask than to come armed. Sure, she required protection, who didn't in this age? Still, the entire affair could've been handled differently. Way different.
"Excuse me, Mayor Christensen," I said. "Jane. I have work to do."
What work? I had no idea, but I wanted them both out of my office and fast before I lost total control. I hunkered down at my desk and turned on my computer. I played around with the mouse, clicking as if I had something important to read or type up.
I didn't look up as the doors opened and closed after them.
End Excerpt
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