Deceived (A Kelly Pruett Mystery)
Cozy Mystery – Woman Sleuths
3rd in Series
Setting – Oregon
Camel Press (May 10, 2022)
Paperback ‏ : ‎ 218 pages

Synopsis

In the third thrilling book in the Kelly Pruett mystery series–Her world was falling into place. Then women started dropping off the map.

PI Kelly Pruett finally feels like she’s coming into her own. With her personal life well on track, a gig uncovering what drove a client’s granddaughter underground could be good for business. But after her undercover operation at the homeless shelter reveals rampant drug dealing, she’s suddenly kicked off the case… just as another girl goes missing.

Vowing to expose the truth even if it means pro-bono work, Kelly is taken aback when her half-sister helps her hunt down answers in a tent city brimming with distrust. When her investigation doesn’t move quickly enough to save a second woman from a vicious murder, Kelly doubles her efforts unwilling to accept defeat.

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Excerpt

Nettie led me into the building and pointed to the back corner. “Toiletry kits are available and showers are open for the next few hours. I suggest you use them.”

There’d be no need. I wouldn’t be stripping down.

She continued, “The doors are locked at ten. House rules state no in, no out after. Got it?”

I nodded as she talked and took the opportunity to check the basic surroundings of scuffed floorboards, vinyl wainscotting that reached waist-high, all topped off with the unmistakable smell of bleach.

“Laundry’s available, but you need to be here much earlier if you plan to get in line for that. Questions?” she asked.

“Not so far,” I said.

We stopped at the edge of the dining room where a buffet ran parallel to the long rows of tables crowded with women of various ages, no children.

Some of the women were unkempt, others well-groomed. Some stared blankly into space and others had their heads down. They were putting the food into their mouths at a rapid pace. Many carried on full conversations with themselves and a few to each other. Some were thinner than others which told me that a place that offered a hot meal would be a magnet to many homeless women.

Kyle had prepared me for some of what I’d seen. What he hadn’t prepared me for was how many women were here, and I couldn’t wrap my head around how that was possible. One could be down on their luck, and things could go wrong with no family or friends. Women could also be a victim of domestic abuse and even be abandoned by a spouse; but how had this many women have nowhere else to turn?

I had to stay focused and do what I came here to do: assess the situation and discover who the low-life drug-dealers were and then inform the man who’d hired me.

I turned back to Nettie with a nervous smile. “Are all of these women regulars?”

“A few, but beds aren’t promised. We’re not a residential, stay all day facility. If you’re on a list, that helps, but you must check in on time, and if you’re late, there are no guarantees. We open at four in the afternoon. If you want a bed, come earlier rather than later.”

I nodded, looking again on the dining room. Where did I even begin to get answers?

“We’re serving dinner.” Nettie placed her hand on my shoulder. “Get something to eat. You’ll feel better. I can see you’re fairly new to the streets.”

My dirty clothes hadn’t made me look any less like a newbie. “That obvious?”

“The deer in the headlights look wears off after a while. It becomes more internalized and hardens you. You, however, have that shock in your eyes. You’re wondering how you got here. But there’s no use crying over spilled milk, as they say. You’re here. Warm and dry. Make the best of it. Now go, get some food, and find yourself anywhere you’d like to sit. You’ll be fine here.”

Except people weren’t always fine here.

Someone in here knew something about Amber, but Bernie’s orders had been quite clear: this was a fact-finding mission, no heroics, no going it alone. I was not to do anything that might spook Amber (and/or the people who’d scared her into hiding). If I did my job, Bernie might trust me with more investigative work.

All I had to do now was blend in and find someone who would talk to me. There’s one in every group, and they’re never that hard to find––at least not in the world when standard operating rules applied and where safety nets were in place. Perhaps it was different once you fell through the cracks; only one way to find out.

I shrugged the pack off my back and looped the strap over one shoulder. A stack of gray trays piled high started the buffet line. Despite having eaten a few hours ago, nerves had my stomach growling. What I wouldn’t give for a spoon of peanut butter.

Tray in hand, I fell in line behind a tall brunette. Her polyester pants hung off her waist and her shoes, which could have fit Big Bird, were held together by duct tape. She smelled sour. She looked sixty but could be forty. It was hard to tell. Sadness, addiction, weather, and mental illness had to take its toll out on the streets. I looked thirty-two. If I had to spend time out here, my looks would change fast. This lady’s tired eyes had none of that deer in the headlights look.

Dinner was beef stew, with chunks of potatoes, celery, and carrots. It smelled delicious. A hawkish woman with glasses dropped a roll onto my tray and grunted, indicating that I keep it moving. There was a holdup around the dessert, which was a choice of orange or green Jell-O. A dollop of Cool Whip was its only redeeming feature.

The line started to move again. I balanced the tray with one hand, grabbed the marshmallow-filled orange version, and was clearing the line when an elbow slammed against my shoulders. As I turned, a hand slapped up under my tray, sending the stew flying into the air and then raining down on my shirt. So much for blending in.

About the Author

Mary Keliikoa is the Shamus finalist and Lefty, Agatha and Anthony nominated author of the PI Kelly Pruett mystery series, and the Misty Pines mystery series featuring former Portland homicide detective turned small-town sheriff. Her short stories have appeared in Woman’s World and in the anthology Peace, Love and Crime.

A Pacific NW native, she spent years working around lawyers and admits to being that person who gets excited when called for jury duty. When not in Washington, you can find Mary on the beach in Hawaii. But even under the palm trees and blazing sun, she’s plotting her next murder—novel that is.

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