Free Still Life: The Randi Lassiter Series, Book 1 by DB Kennison

Georgia visibly relaxed.
    Randi had the time it took to drive out to Walnut Ridge to think about the consequences of not calling Detective Bricksen with this potential lead. It took six minutes to cover ten miles of rolling hills in her little red convertible, long enough to know she’d take the time to investigate the essentials before calling the police, and when she did, it would not be Detective Bricksen that she contacted.
    Walnut Ridge was just that, a long moraine of mostly mature walnut trees that banked along a curved hillside with an immense log lodge nestled in its center. Not so much a bed and breakfast, more an expansive retreat with twelve guest cabins tucked into the lush timber and a multitude of sleeping accommodations at the main lodge. There was a grand conference center that was booked most weekends for meetings, wedding receptions and other large events. Georgia’s calendar of events was consistently packed with a rotation of stay packages, which included art appreciation in the form of classes, art history, and exhibitions. Other scheduled events included medicinal plant identification and usage, meditation and yoga, and apiary design and management. All of that meant lots of people coming and going. That Georgia hadn’t known who Larissa was off the top of her head did not seem that strange.
    Randi recalled the large sign by the driveway entrance, which advertised their current event: “Eclectic Art—Appreciating the Unique”.
    “Don’t worry, Georgia, we’ll figure it out.” She patted the woman’s arm. No sooner had Randi sat down that Georgia jumped up and fetched a tray of warm snickerdoodles and orange pekoe in an heirloom porcelain cup. Georgia pushed the plate of cookies at her and encouraged her to eat, as if the innkeeper were on autopilot and Randi was a paying guest.
    Randi picked up a cookie and nearly choked on it when what looked like a giant tarantuala scurried across the floor and beneath the table. Georgia placed a firm hand on her shoulder before she had a chance to bolt.
    “Hold still.”
    “What?” Randi’s heart was in her throat. She hated spiders. And this one was the size of a small dog! “Georgia, I need to…”
    “It’s okay. It’s just Kotori.” She patted the table with her hand. “Kotori, come.” She commanded.
    Randi had the same feeling in the pit of her stomach that she got whenever friends talked her into going through a haunted house. It always sounded like fun and sometimes it actually was…until some jerk in a zombie suit came after her. Then it was all about him and his broken nose.
    Randi reached down and took off one of her platform sandals, gripped it in her hand and prepared to Gucci it. There was a chattering animal noise and movement from the far side of the table when a tiny face popped up over the edge and grinned at Randi. It was a monkey! A tiny one at that.
    “Kotori, come.” Georgia repeated. The monkey jumped up on the table and scampered over to them. Georgia moved the cookie plate to the counter and gave Kotori a small hard biscuit that she’d pulled from a baggie. The monkey nibbled on it and watched Randi with curious dark eyes as his eyebrows danced. He was so cute.
    “Where did you get this little guy?” Randi reached out a finger and touched Kotori on the arm. He cackled but let her touch him. His fur was even softer than it looked.
    “Kotori belongs to one of the artists. He is a Cotton-Top Tamarin monkey. I’m afraid she is no good at remembering to lock him up and he is no good at staying in even when she does.”
    “I thought monkeys needed diapers?” Kotori was bare except for the brown hair that covered his body and the Albert Einstein mop of white on his head.
    “I know. That’s usually the case but this little guy is house trained.”
    “Okay, Kotori. Time to skedaddle.” Georgia picked him up and carried him like a toddler in her arms. She set him down and directed him out of the kitchen.
    After Georgia