To Collar a Killer
Lee Charles Kelley
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
In this delightful and witty third book in our wonderful series created by veteran dog trainer Lee Charles Kelley, a clever kennel owner, his lady love, and his loyal canines must solve their most sinister mystery yet!
One of Maine kennel owner Jack Field's favourite pastimes is spending quality time with a fun-loving pooch--which is why he's playing fetch with a Corgi named Tipper instead of mingling at a July 4th shindig. But when Tipper returns with a bloodstained boating cap in his teeth, the ex-New York cop decides to investigate...and finds an anonymous dead body clutching the tennis ball Jack tossed away moments before. The local law think Jack's the killer, since he had the opportunity and, as it turns out, a motive. Even his loyal and lovely fiancée, sometime medical examiner Dr. Jamie Cutter, is troubled by evidence that contradicts Jack's tale. Someone's going to great lengths to frame Jack Field, and he's determined to find out why--even though everyone, from a powerful tycoon to a Miami drug lord to a whole passel of professional killers, is equally determined to see him doggoned dead!
fighter pilots, you know, on aircraft carriers, but since when do they train helicopter pilots?” She looked at the phone. “And how come no one’s called here this morning? I would think your phone would be ringing off the hook.” “Don’t you remember? I unplugged it last night.” She was shocked. “And you haven’t plugged it back in? Jack, what if someone needs to get in touch with you?” “Then they’ll keep calling until I finally plug it back in. And the Navy trains helicopter pilots for lots of
orange striped sail. The only boat that looked even mildly suspicious was a fifty-foot yacht whose stern was facing me, meaning that she was headed away from the island. She was at least a hundred yards off, with hardly any wake that I could see, which indicated that she was in no particular hurry to go anywhere. I couldn’t read her name from where I stood. I didn’t have my cell phone with me (I think it’s rude to bring your cell phone to a party or any other social gathering, though don’t go by
a hell of a time with this, I thought. There was at least one item of curiosity, at least in my mind, if not in Tipper’s. I finally figured out what she was barking at: the guy’s hand. What was he holding in it? I knelt down again, and as I did I noticed the bottom half of a tattoo on his upper arm. The rest was hidden under the sleeve of his polo shirt. I could just make out part of an anchor, meaning it was probably a Navy emblem. I didn’t bother examining the tattoo, though. I just pulled
was married to the other one’s sister, or what. Ferguson was of medium height and build and had wavy carrot-colored hair. His face was hard and angular and his topaz eyes seemed always on the verge of flashing angrily at something or someone. He and Sinclair wore plastic ponchos over their street clothes, which in both cases was simple jeans and a polo shirt. The two FBI agents, Bruce Baker and Myles Kuwahara, were both in their late twenties, both of medium height and build (though Baker had a
I thought you were referring to something else. You see, we’re having a softball game on Saturday. So, if any of you guys want to come play ball with us—” I laughed. “Yeah, we still need a shortstop and a third baseman, so if anyone here can handle those positions…” “I’ll play,” said Baker. Kuwahara glared at him. “Shut up,” said Kondolean, wiping his brow again. “Hey, Field, don’t you believe in air-conditioning?” I started to get up but Kelso said, “It isn’t working.” I looked at him and