Mesozoic Murder Read Online Free

stomach is killing me.”
    â€œSorry. You been eating a lot of chocolate?”
    â€œYeah. I’m a chocoholic,” Dorbandt admitted, thinking of the malted breakfast drink he had chugged down that morning.
    Tweedy chuckled. “Chocolate’s the worst thing for a weak esophageal sphincter. It has a chemical in it that relaxes the stomach valve. I’ve seen plenty of stiffs with a one-way valve that swings like a doggy door. Take it easy, Reid.” The ME hobbled away.
    â€œSee you.”
    An acid burp propelled past Dorbandt’s tonsils with nuclear intensity. That would teach him to share his gastrointestinal ills with a slice-and-dice man. Too much information. He slapped his notebook shut. He’d peruse the area and then get to the next pressing issue: interviewing witnesses.
    From his shirt pocket, Dorbandt pulled a slip of paper which a deputy had handed him earlier. It contained preliminary information about the people who found Capos. His eyes immediately locked on the first name. Anselette Phoenix.
    No. It couldn’t be. He had hoped his luck would change sometime today. Sure, Dorbandt ruminated, and black pigs could fly.
    ***
    Ansel shifted uncomfortably in the wooden chair at Pitt’s kitchen table and tried not to look overly nervous. After all, the detective introducing himself in a deep voice as Lieutenant Reid Dorbandt had to ask questions. The suited cop had nothing to do with the fact that her seat bore an unnerving likeness to a wooden electric chair. Lydia, Shane, and Tim had already been questioned and dismissed.
    Three hours after finding the body it was her turn, and she felt sick to her stomach. Pitt’s kitchen, though clean and orderly for a widower, smelled of greasy pork sausage. She was totally drained by disbelief, sadness, and worry. Losing her lucky stone had heralded more than just bad luck for herself. Who in the world would want Nick dead?
    Dorbandt stared at her from his seat across the table. Ansel had seen that speculative gaze a hundred times. Her mixed Blackfoot heritage, evident in her high cheekbones, caramel skin, and raven hair, often evoked curiosity. Dorbandt was sizing her up, and she met his blue eyes without hesitation.
    Ansel gave Dorbandt the once over, too. When standing, he looked over six feet. Early thirties with brown hair clipped into a short, squeaky-clean professional cut. He looked hot and tired. A brown holster strapped beneath his right shoulder told Ansel that he was a lefty. It was also a grim reminder of the seriousness of the situation.
    Dorbandt fixed her with an unblinking stare. “Are you related to Chase Phoenix?”
    Ansel tensed, surprised by Dorbandt’s first question. “I’m his daughter. Do you know my father?”
    â€œI’ve never met the guy. Just heard of him. He owns a big cattle ranch, doesn’t he?”
    â€œYes. The Arrowhead. Who mentioned his name?”
    â€œMy supervisor. Captain Ed McKenzie.”
    â€œMcKenzie is my father’s friend?”
    â€œI don’t think so.” A strange smile softened the edges of Dorbandt’s square jaw line. “I didn’t know he had a daughter.”
    â€œI went to college and worked out of state, but I’ve been back in Big Toe for two years.”
    Dorbandt pulled out a pen and leather pad. “I need to verify information. You don’t mind if I make notes, do you?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYou’re Anselette Sarcee Phoenix. Home address is 77 Platte Road. Born December 14th, 1973?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhat’s your occupation?”
    â€œI’m a freelance paleoartist doing fossil artwork for magazines, books, and museums.”
    â€œI’m curious. Where’d you go to school to learn all this?”
    â€œMontana State University in Bozeman.”
    Dorbandt scribbled in his notebook. “Bozeman. Isn’t that where that famous fossil hunter works? The guy who dug up all