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    Dusk and Shiver (Remy Pigeon Stories): Remy Pigeon
    Dusk and Shiver (Remy Pigeon Stories): Remy Pigeon
    Dusk and Shiver (Remy Pigeon Stories): Remy Pigeon
    Ebook54 pages50 minutes

    Dusk and Shiver (Remy Pigeon Stories): Remy Pigeon

    By Annie Bellet

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    About this ebook

    From urban fantasy and USA Today bestselling author Annie Bellet comes three paranormal mystery short stories featuring Creole gentleman Remy Pigeon.

    Remy Pigeon has a gift, or a curse.  He touches objects and reads the past from them. Sometimes this lets him solve mysteries, but mostly it gets him neck deep in paranormal problems.

    Til Human Voices Wake Us-
    Bodies of men start turning up in the bayou and the sheriff turns to Remy to solve the who, why, and how. But when his gift uncovers more mystery and more bodies, Remy might have to choose between justice and saving his own skin.

    Dusk and Shiver-
    The last thing Remy expects on a quiet day at home is an axe-bearing zombi breaking through his front door.  Worse, she’s a former client of his, and the mother of a newborn baby.  To solve the mystery of her un-death, Remy must venture out into the post-hurricane wreckage of his town, find the baby, and stop a murderous voodun sorcerer.
    It’s one hell of a day off.

    Flashover-
    Remy prefers to stay away from trouble, but when an attractive red-head with a serious problem and a supernatural secret wanders into his house on a hot summer day, Remy knows that trouble has just found him.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDoomed Muse Press
    Release dateAug 28, 2014
    ISBN9781501423369
    Dusk and Shiver (Remy Pigeon Stories): Remy Pigeon
    Author

    Annie Bellet

    Annie Bellet is the author of the Pyrrh Considerable Crimes Division, The Twenty-Sided Sorceress, and the Gryphonpike Chronicles series. She holds a BA in English and a BA in Medieval Studies and thus can speak a smattering of useful languages such as Anglo-Saxon and Medieval Welsh.   Her short fiction work is available in multiple collections and anthologies. Her interests besides writing include rock climbing, reading, horse-back riding, video games, comic books, table-top RPGs and many other nerdy pursuits.  She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and a very demanding Bengal cat.

    Read more from Annie Bellet

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      Book preview

      Dusk and Shiver (Remy Pigeon Stories) - Annie Bellet

      Dusk and Shiver

      Three Remy Pigeon Short Stories by Annie Bellet

      Copyright 2012, Annie Bellet

      All rights reserved. Published by Doomed Muse Press.

      These stories are a work of fiction. All characters, places, and incidents described in this publication are used fictitiously, or are entirely fictional.

      No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, except by an authorized retailer, or with written permission of the publisher. Inquiries may be addressed via email to doomedmuse.press@gmail.com.

      Cover designed by Greg Jensen

      Electronic edition, 2012

      Table of Contents

      Story One: Til Human Voices Wake Us

      Story Two: Dusk and Shiver

      Story Three: Flashover

      Til Human Voices Wake Us

      They waited until the fourth man drowned before someone from the Toil d’Crespuscule Sheriff’s office came to fetch me. The large rookie deputy, who looked as though he’d never managed to miss a meal in his life, drove me in total silence out past the crumbling factories and the lone smoking coal plant, deep into Bayou Delphine. He didn’t offer much more than that the sheriff wanted me at a crime scene and I didn’t ask.

      I’d read the paper. Someone was dead, again, and they probably wanted from me what everyone else did.

      They needed me to touch things.

      Watching the grey Spanish moss slap wetly against the SUV’s windows as we drove off the main road onto a poacher’s track and the swamp closed her sticky arms around us, I wished they’d paid me up front. I glanced at the fresh-faced, grain-fed boy beside me and decided that was just another thing to take up with the sheriff.

      The crime scene, if that’s what it was, was a mess. The coroner’s van and the two trucks already on scene had ground up the spongy soil, raising large ribs of grey pussy earth.

      I slid reluctantly out of the car, lamenting the inevitable as sucking filth coated my loafers. I should have swallowed pride and worn boots, but a man has to present a professional appearance. Especially when that man is a Psychometrist.

      The swamp smelled ripe. The waterlogged body, which the coroner and the sheriff currently stood over, arguing, had a stench that sailed right past ripe and landed on rotten. I tried to breathe through my mouth as I picked my way toward the men.

      Mr. Pigeon? The sheriff was a pale man who’d seen the other side of forty not too long ago. He had a large belly protruding awkwardly from an otherwise petite frame and nervous hands that drifted like birds around his torso when he spoke.

      Call me Remy, I said, deliberately not extending my gloved hand to shake the pasty bird that he offered with a slight tremor.

      Ben Hargrave, sheriff, he said, the bird descending to rest lightly on his gut. After a moment of hesitation in which he sized me up and appeared to still have no idea what box to stick me in, he turned toward the body and his hands took flight again. This here, well, he was Cordy Labbe.

      A poacher, I guessed.

      He jerked back, his pale blue eyes narrowing. You doing your thing already? I thought you had to touch stuff or something.

      I sighed. I read the paper, sheriff. The other three men were all out here on the waterways at night. Not exactly rocket surgery to say they might have been poaching.

      Nom de Zeus, this whole conversation was making me long for the familiar cases. Most people came to me with underwear, wanting to me to confirm the affair they already suspected. I’d thought I was tired of underwear, but at least my shoes stayed dry, my woolen and pressed suit pants free of stinking mud, and those clients always paid up front.

      Well, the papers don’t say everything, Hargrave said. We’re desperate, Remy. These men, they didn’t just drown. We think they were murdered. And worse, someone chewed on them.

      It’s a swamp, not surprising the bodies were... attendez. I forced myself to look down at the bloated corpse. It was a parody of a body, blown out of proportion with the skin like a blue and grey sponge.

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