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- Herausgeber: Ryer Publishing
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
A Winnie Parsons Mystery Single.
Cutting-edge scientist Dr. Benjamin Rook returns home to the peace and solitude of his remote mountain laboratory—only to discover that someone destroyed his entire lab and everything he worked on for the past fifteen years.
Without any clues who might have done it, Ben turns to Dr. Winifred Parsons for help. She is a retired scientist herself, but more than that, Winnie Parsons is clairvoyant.
Winnie discovers there were a few witnesses after all—although no one else would ever guess it. No secret can stay hidden for long once Winnie Parsons is on the case.
Don’t miss the newest full-length Winnie Parsons Mystery Novels, THE SECRET JUROR and THE TRUTH CHAMBER.
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
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A DROP OF SWEAT
A WINNIE PARSONS MYSTERY
ROBIN BRANDE
RYER PUBLISHING
A DROP OF SWEAT
A Winnie Parsons Mystery
By Robin Brande
Published by Ryer Publishing
www.ryerpublishing.com
Copyright 2025 by Robin Brande
www.robinbrande.com
Cover art by green liana and Junelle Aliya/Canva
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-952383-57-1
Print ISBN: 978-1-952383-58-8
* * *
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
More from Robin Brande
Secret Code for Winnie Parsons Readers
A Mind for Mysteries
The Secret Juror
The Truth Chamber
The Miraculous Unknown
About the Author
Also by Robin Brande
1
Winnie sat in the narrow inner courtyard between her front gate and her front door. The pathway between the planting beds was hard brick, but she always brought a soft, plush pillow with her to sit on. She was past the days of ever subjecting herself to discomfort if she could help it.
The pillow was actually a dog bed that Clover her yellow Labrador had rejected within a day of Winnie bringing it home. Something about the shallow sides, or maybe the texture of the corduroy fabric along the rim … Clover was a girl of strong opinions, and Winnie had no desire to try to boss her.
They lived as companions and roommates, both admiring and respecting each other. Clover especially admired Winnie’s ability to toss cubes of cheese and slices of carrots into the air when she was cooking. Every evening Clover sat diligently on the long blue runner rug in the kitchen between the sink and the stove while Winnie cooked dinner, waiting for that magic toss.
But now, midmorning, after their walk from the house to the University of Arizona campus where they always completed the same three-mile loop, and after their respective breakfasts of kibble and oatmeal and coffee, Winnie sat on the rejected dog bed and Clover lay sleeping on the brick pathway in the sun, and they breathed in the fresh, flower-scented air and thought their own deep thoughts.
Even in January, Winnie’s flower garden prospered. She no longer spoke to the plants out loud, ever since her neighbor to the south had built an extension onto her house that brought her patio right up against Winnie’s tall stucco wall—the woman was an orthopedic surgeon at the university hospital, and had proven herself nosy and judgmental almost immediately after moving in—but Winnie still spoke in her mind to the courtyard’s climbing sweet peas and bougainvillea, complimenting them on their stunning purple and magenta blossoms, and thanking them for their beauty.
She grew daisies here, too, and hollyhocks, pansies, and petunias. On the other side of the house, where the sun shone longer throughout the day, she grew fruit trees and vegetables and tall, cheerful-looking sunflowers that poked their heads above the wall.
Winnie needed color in her life, and sometimes the desert landscape of Tucson felt too brown and drab and dry.
Winnie favored life. It was the simplest thing in the world to surround herself with evidence of it inside the wall surrounding her modest, comfortable home, when outside this wall the world sometimes wanted to show her a much darker picture.
