The Florentine Cypher: Kate Benedict Paranormal Mystery #3 (The Kate Benedict Series)

Read The Florentine Cypher: Kate Benedict Paranormal Mystery #3 (The Kate Benedict Series) Online

Authors: Carrie Bedford

Tags: #Female sleuths, #paranormal suspense, #supernatural mystery, #British detectives, #traditional detective mysteries, #psychic suspense, #cozy mystery, #crime thriller

BOOK: The Florentine Cypher: Kate Benedict Paranormal Mystery #3 (The Kate Benedict Series)
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Praise for THE FLORENTINE CYPHER, the third Kate Benedict Paranormal Mystery by Carrie Bedford

"An intense, edge of your seat mystery, with just the right amount of paranormal twist I'm always looking for.”

—M.P. McDonald, author of the Mark Taylor Mystery Series

“Kate Benedict could be BFFs with Mary O’Reilly. Kate’s desire to help, especially when she notices an aura looming over someone’s head, spurs her into action that carries with it both mystery and danger. I thoroughly enjoyed the fast-paced action and exotic locales of The Florentine Cipher. It is an edge-of-your-seat page turner.”

—Terri Reid, author of the Mary O’Reilly Paranormal Mystery Series
.

Praise for DOUBLE BLIND, the sequel to THE AURA by Carrie Bedford


Double Blind
is a cozy mystery with intense characters who struggle in a world of pharmaceutical intrigue with political twists. Author Carrie Bedford writes with a high suspenseful flair and creates an engaging protagonist, Kate Benedict. Paranormal elements mix with murders, kidnappings, and a dash of romance, all racing through an unusual and satisfying plot. A fast read, well-written, and thoroughly enjoyable.”

—Paula Cappa, author of
The Dazzling Darkness

Praise for THE AURA, the first Kate Benedict Paranormal Mystery by Carrie Bedford

“Carrie Bedford is a real find…
The Aura
is an engaging paranormal suspense story whose heroine is smart, strong, and almost overwhelmed when she is suddenly able to see that someone— friend, family or stranger— is about to die. Bedford is a fine writer, an accomplished novelist, and a terrific storyteller whose characters ring true and pull us deep into the mystery.”

—Shelley Singer, author of the Jake Samson-Rosie Vicente mystery series and
Torch Song
, first in the Blackjack near-future thriller series

“… a terrific book with a likable protagonist, skilled plotting, and a supernatural spin. This gripping mystery had me hooked from the first chapter.”

— Janet Dawson, author of the Jeri Howard series

 

THE FLORENTINE CYPHER

A Kate Benedict Paranormal Mystery

BY

CARRIE BEDFORD

 

booksBnimble Publishing
New Orleans, La.

The Florentine Cypher

Copyright 2016 by Carrie Bedford

All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9973630-2-9

www.booksbnimble.com

First booksBnimble electronic publication: September 2016

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Confirmed grump Eddie Valentino placed the ad. Hotshot twenty-something Talba Wallis knew exactly how to answer it.

And thus was born the dynamic duo of New Orleans private detectives, one cynical, sixty-five-year-old Luddite white dude with street smarts, and one young, bright-eyed, Twenty-First century African-American female poet, performance artist, mistress of disguise, and computer jock extraordinaire. Think Queen Latifah and Danny DeVito in a hilariously rocky relationship— yet with enough detective chops between them to find Atlantis.

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CHAPTER ONE

I’d seen an aura on my way to work that morning, and the memory of it had stayed with me all day. It was only a brief glimpse of swirling air over the head of a man who’d boarded the Tube train I was just leaving. I couldn’t help but stare for a few seconds— he was so young— and he grinned back at me, no doubt assuming I was admiring his fashionably gel-spiked hair and hazel eyes. But all I’d been thinking of was that aura. What was going to happen to him? What was it that would kill him, and soon? I’d thought about him this afternoon when I should have been working, the image of the aura blurring the lines on my computer screen. Should I have warned him? Said something that might save him?

“Hey Kate?” A voice brought a welcome halt to my bleak thoughts. It was Laura, my project manager, standing at the door to my office. “We’re going to the Fox and Hound for a drink,” she said. “We all bloody deserve it after the week we’ve just had. And it’s my turn to buy.”

I glanced at my watch. It was six-fifteen already, and I’d promised Ethan I’d be at his office by half past six.

“I wish I could, but I can’t tonight,” I said, shoving my mobile phone and some weekend work files into my well-used leather shoulder bag. “I’m going out to dinner with a friend.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Just a friend,” I said.

“Okay. I’ll walk down with you.” She waited, smoothing her short white-blond hair into place while I shut down my computer before putting on my coat. “You did great work this week, Kate. If it weren’t for you, we’d be pulling an all-nighter, but you got it done. And your designs were brilliant. I really do owe you a drink.”

My cheeks warmed. I’d never been good at accepting compliments.

In the lobby, Laura gave me a hug goodbye before hurrying off to join a group of my architect workmates who loitered at the door, buttoning up coats and knotting scarves in preparation for their dash to the pub through the wind and rain. The forecast was for rain all weekend. Of course.

I hurried through the commuter crowds and ran on to a train just before the doors slid shut, but it was almost seven by the time I emerged from the Tube station in Blackfriars. The ride had brought back thoughts of the young man I’d seen that morning. His aura made me sad, but there was nothing I could do.

The downpour had dwindled to a cold drizzle, and a stiff breeze blew long strands of dark brown hair into my eyes. I tucked as much of it as possible inside the collar of my cream-colored raincoat before wrapping my scarf twice around my neck. The coat had been a splurge and worth every penny, considering how often I wore it.

I watched out for puddles as I hurried to Ethan’s office. Just as I approached the steps that led up to the old red brick building, I caught sight of a man waving down a taxi a few meters further along the street. He had his back to me, but I thought it was Ethan. His thick, fair hair was hard to miss, despite the fading light.

Even harder to miss was the aura that rippled above his head, like wavy air over hot desert sand. I stared, momentarily shocked into inertia by the sight of it. Then I took off towards him, pushing past a group of young men in suits.

“Ethan!” I called, as he bent to climb into a cab that had pulled up beside him. He didn’t look around and made no sign that he’d heard me. I shouted again, but he slammed the door and the taxi merged into traffic.

I ran to the curb, arm outstretched. At once, a black cab sidled towards the curb a short distance up the street. The taxi gods were on my side for once. But, as I hurried towards it, a man in a black raincoat ran down the steps from Ethan’s office building, pushed in front of me and jumped in. Before I could say anything, he’d slammed the door closed. The taxi shot away. So much for divine intervention, I thought, waving my arm frantically when another taxi made an appearance. This time, it pulled up right next to me and I got in.

“Can you follow that cab?” I said, pointing to Ethan’s car, which had stopped at a traffic light fifty meters ahead.

Without a word, the driver accelerated away, but the James Bond-like thrill faded quickly when we braked to a halt at the light. Ethan’s taxi made it through and disappeared into a cluster of more black London taxis. Within seconds, I couldn’t tell which was his.

While the driver tried for a couple of minutes to catch up and identify the cab, I texted Ethan, but got no response.

“What now, miss?” my driver asked.

I didn’t know what to do. “Can you give me a minute?”

In the rearview mirror, I saw his eyes rest on me, brows raised under his tweed cap. But he didn’t say anything as he edged out of traffic to park at the side of the road. I stared through the rain-slicked windscreen at blurred lights flashing red and green. Maybe it wasn’t Ethan I’d seen after all. Plenty of Londoners had fair hair, and the man getting into the taxi had paid no attention when I yelled his name. Ethan wouldn’t have ignored me. Suddenly, I felt like an idiot. I’d gone chasing off after a complete stranger, and Ethan was probably waiting impatiently at his office.

“Can you take me back to College Street, please, where you picked me up?”

I settled back into my seat, loosening my scarf, feeling the damp collar of my raincoat pressing on the back of my neck like a wet eel. The hems of my black wool trousers lay drenched and clammy against my ankles, proof that I must have failed to circumnavigate a puddle somewhere. Hot air began to blow through the cab as we started driving again, and I relaxed, relieved that I hadn’t seen Ethan, because that meant he didn’t have an aura.

Still, it was unnerving to see two auras in one day, even over the heads of strangers. I saw those haloes of circling air when death loomed close, a few days away, or a week or two at the most. Inevitably, I fell into my usual dark cycle of wondering what the threat to those two young men could be. Bad health perhaps, a car crash or a Tube derailment, a whole smorgasbord of ways to die. Fortunately, I didn’t have much time to brood about auras and mortality, because we were soon back at the Adams Institute.

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