101 Ways to Die (A Magical Romantic Comedy (with a body count) Book 21)

101 WAYS TO DIE A Magical Romantic Comedy (with a body count) Book 21 R.J. BLAIN 101 Ways to Die A Magical Romantic Comedy (with a body count) (Book 21) by R.J. Blain * * * Officer McMarin of the NYPD is in for the ride of her life when the Chief Quinns storm into her station, promote her to the rank of detective, and relocate her to Manhattan. Saddled with the dubious honor of being Chief Bailey Quinn’s primary rider is only the beginning of her woes. Her first case delves into the dark waters of the many ways in which a person can die. At the heart of the mystery is one Alec Mortan, a forensic accountant with a knack for being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Witnessing so much death is hard on a soul, and she can’t help but admire his tenacity and desire to help her uncover the truth. When the forces of the heavens and the many hells involve themselves in the case, McMarin’s beliefs and skills are put to the test. If she’s not careful, she’ll lose her witness to fate right along with her chance for a happily ever after. * * * Copyright © 2023 by Pen & Page Publishing/R.J. Blain All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Cover design by Rebecca Frank of Bewitching Book Covers. Contents 1. The hell and the high water had already come calling in the form of the Chief Quinns. 2. “Bailey Ember Quinn, what have you done?” 3. “Angels are assholes.” 4. I imagined the apocalypse unfolding in our precinct. 5. “I have a 10-10 N partnered with a rain of frogs.” 6. Life rarely worked out that way. 7. “Wait, Bailey is the one agreeing with the sensible theory?” 8. The Devil might show up. 9. Even the small steps mattered. 10. “I would have experienced horrified embarrassment.” 11. “Just wait until you see the body.” 12. “But were you given an appropriate paycheck?” 13. “The hagfish needs a home.” 14. The public adored seeing the cindercorn in action. Afterword 15. Interlude (During Chapter 10) 16. Meeting Josefina 17. In Training 18. The Stolen Mugs About R.J. Blain ONE The hell and the high water had already come calling in the form of the Chief Quinns. Captain Hugh Frankson of the NYPD stormed to my desk and slapped a file down on the ever-growing stack of misdemeanors I needed to register in our database before I could leave. Any other day, I would have indulged in an anxiety attack over the man’s unexpected appearance. Whenever the captain showed up at my desk, hell came chasing on the heels of high water, as he went out of his way in his idiotic attempt to prove women had no business being on the force. Today, however, the hell and the high water had already come calling in the form of the Chief Quinns, who haunted the station somewhere, doing whatever it was chiefs did when checking in on precincts they were responsible for. In addition to dodging jabs over my gender, I’d likely escape from being ribbed over my mixed heritage thanks to their presence. Aware the captain would lose his shit if he believed I wasn’t taking him seriously, I set aside the case I’d been working on and picked up the folder. Before I had a chance to flip it open and behold the terrors within, the captain announced, “You’re being transferred.” His declaration carried through the open room, loud enough everyone could hear—even the cops busy on the phone. A still quiet fell over the cubicle farm, except for the cops forced to continue their conversations. “I’ll take your cruiser keys now. You’ll have a ride to your new place of employment.” Well, screw me sideways with a baton while lighting me on fire. With a little luck, the poor bastard saddled with my cruiser would survive the experience; it had needed to retire years ago, but I kept the damned thing running through investing a few hours every week at home convincing the engine to keep trucking along. I opened my drawer, grabbed my keys, unclipped the dying vehicle’s keys, and handed them over. “Effective immediately, sir?” Captain Frankson snatched the keys out of my hand. “Yes.” Before I could say another word, he blew through the cubicle farm in the direction of his office and turned the corner. A moment later, a door slammed. “Damn, McMarin. What did you do?” my now ex-partner, Kit, demanded in an amused tone. “I haven’t seen the captain that pissed since the day you were assigned to our station.” If Kit ended up with my cruiser, I hoped he survived the experience. “I did something?” I heaved a sigh, well aware I had an audience. Bracing for the worst, I flipped open the folder and checked the file. A single sheet of paper informed me I’d been promoted to the rank of detective third grade and instructed me to report to my new place of employment under the direct guidance of Mr. and Mrs. Chief Quinn. My mouth dropped open, and I blinked several times before rereading the sheet, which remained the same. I passed the sheet to Kit, who read it over and joined me in attempting to catch flies in his mouth before he leaned over to hand the news off to the next cop in line. Typically, those up for promotion endured tests, trials, and tribulation along with a warning of the impending changes. I viewed my daily life as some ridiculous challenge where I needed to prove I could be just as good—or better—than the boys. While the captain loathed me, the boys in blue liked me around, or so