Blue Goodness (Michael Kaplan Mysteries)

by David W. Cowles

  “Always, Michael, always.” But Kimberly had certain feelings she had not yet expressed. She would, though, when the time was right.

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, MICHAEL sent Kimberly to the Times to start writing the update story on Gunther Hogg, instructing her not to mention Soozie in any of the articles. He bought another box of donuts and went to Metro to confer with Mark. While driving, he called the hospital again for the umpteenth time and was told Soozie was awake and having breakfast. Michael decided to pick up some flowers and visit her after his meeting with Mark.

  Mark was all smiles. “I have a news flash for you, Michael,” he said, dragging Michael down the corridor to the coffee room. “You and Kimberly were dead wrong about Soozie.

  “Stewart Lamb came out of his coma late last night. It’s going to be a long recovery for him, but he’s going to recover fully. I was given a few minutes to talk with him, and he was quite lucid. The ‘woman with orange hair’ Lamb had mentioned yesterday wasn’t Soozie Snyder at all—it was a nurse that had been tending to him.

  “Apparently, Lamb had been waking up momentarily for the past several days and each time the orange-haired nurse happened to be in his room. Lamb positively identified Gunther Hogg as the man who tried to snuff him. Soozie’s completely exonerated of that charge.

  “As far as your speculation that Soozie may have killed Hogg’s wife, I’m going to consider it just that. Idle speculation. There’s more than enough evidence to convince a jury that Hogg killed his wife. But of course, he’s dead, so the taxpayers don’t have to waste money proving his guilt. Your cockamamie theory that Soozie stole Hogg’s blood from the blood bank and planted it in his house is ludicrous, now I’ve had time to think about it objectively.

  “You said you thought Soozie might have been the person who burglarized Dr. Royal’s clinic to get drugs. Well, we searched her apartment thoroughly and didn’t find any drugs at all, except for a very small amount of marijuana in her night stand.”

  “What about valium?” Michael asked.

  Mark shook his head. “No. None.”

  “That’s strange. According to Soozie’s doctor, the reason she was so out of it when we broke in yesterday was because she’d overdosed on valium.”

  “Well, there wasn’t any valium in her apartment. Not even an empty container. In any event, there would have been no reason for Soozie to burglarize Royal’s clinic. As you pointed out, she used to be Hogg’s girlfriend and could have gotten anything she wanted from him. I learned this morning the Board of Pharmacy had been watching Hogg for a long time—he was prescribing or giving out veterinary medications to anyone who would slip him a few bucks. Besides, if Soozie still had a key to his clinic, which you say she did, she could have gone there any time she wanted and helped herself.”

  “What’s going to happen to her now?” Michael asked.

  “Do you want to file charges against her for drugging and sexually assaulting you?” Mark asked.

  “Hell, no!” Michael replied without equivocation. “Not only would I make a fool of myself, Myra would divorce me for sure.”

  Mark stroked his chin. “Well, let’s see, then. There’s the suicide attempt. That’s the only felony for which a person can be tried for an unsuccessful attempt, but not for actually committing. Then there’s the matter of possession of controlled substances—the Blue Goodness and the marijuana. There wasn’t much marijuana, just enough to make a couple of joints; and the Blue Goodness possession was related to the attempted suicide.

  “Oscar Stein has already informed me he’s going to represent her. With Stein on the case, my guess is it will never go to trial. Soozie will probably be transferred to a psychiatric hospital and kept there for a month or so—until the doctors feel she’s of no further danger to herself or others—and then released. Case closed.

  “Now, what about you, Michael? How much longer are you going to be staying with Kimberly? That’s a pretty ticklish situation, if you ask me.”

  “I didn’t ask you, Mark, but I’ll tell you anyway. Kimberly and Myra are friends again. Myra is coming back to Las Vegas in a few days. When she does, I’ll be moving back into the condo. Everything is returning to normal, and it isn’t one minute too soon to suit me.”

  Epilogue

  IT WAS BITTERLY COLD in Las Vegas that winter. The mountains to the west were continually covered with a thick blanket of white, and some of the oldtimers predicted it might turn out to be one of those rare years when a foot or so of snow would cover the city for a few days, closing schools and snarling traffic.

  E.J. Geller summoned Michael to his office. Michael never knew for certain whether Geller was going to roll out the red carpet or call him on the carpet. This time, it proved to be the former.

  “Michael, m’boy, you’ve been doing a fine job,” Geller complimented generously. “You’ve honed your investigative reporting skills to a razor’s edge, and your writing is getting better and better by the week. By the week.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to give me a raise, E.J.?” Michael asked hopefully.

  Geller harrumphed and puffed on his cigar, looking at that moment very much like Julius Dithers in the Blondie comic strip. “Certainly not. You’ve earned one, I must admit, but times aren’t the best right now for our newspaper.” His eyes brightened. “But I have a proposal you may like even better. Even better.”

  “Oh? And what’s that?” Michael asked wearily.

  Geller took a long puff on his cigar and held it in the air. Michael thought he looked like the little man with the silk top hat on the Monopoly game.

  “My wife’s family is having a big reunion in California, which means we won’t be able to use our timeshare week in Cancun this year. I hate to see it go to waste. If you don’t mind taking your vacation a bit early, you and Myra are welcome to stay at our villa. My treat.”

  There was no way Michael could turn down free accommodations at a luxurious Mexican resort in midwinter, and he accepted Geller’s generous offer immediately. He knew Myra wouldn’t have any trouble taking a week off from her job at the Gold Crest.

  “That sounds great, E.J. Give me the details.”

  “We own a week at the Caribbean Sands resort in a penthouse villa overlooking the beach. It has two bedrooms and two baths, a living room, large patio, dining area, and full kitchen. Everything’s furnished—linens, kitchen utensils, dishes.

  “The weather will be perfect. I can almost guarantee it. Warm, balmy days, usually in the mid-eighties. Quite a pleasant change from what we’ve been going through here in Vegas.”

  Michael thought for a moment. “You say the villa has two bedrooms?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you mind if Kimberly joined us? If I’m going to be on vacation, there won’t be much for her to do here. She might as well take her vacation at the same time.”

  “No problem. You’re sure Myra won’t object to the fifth wheel?” Geller questioned.

  “Oh, it will be no problem at all. We spend most of our free time together anyway. The fact of the matter is, Kimberly would be quite put out if we didn’t invite her to come along.”

  “Fine. Why don’t you go back to your office and give her the good news.”

  “I will, E.J. Thanks a million. Please thank Mrs. Geller for us, also.”

  MICHAEL, MYRA, AND KIMBERLY departed early on a Saturday afternoon from McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas. The trip was long and tiring, and there was a two-hour stopover and change of planes in Houston. Their jet arrived in Cancun late at night, but they could feel the warm, tropical humidity the moment they stepped outside the aircraft. After clearing immigration and retrieving their luggage and going through customs, they took a short taxi ride to the Caribbean Sands. Once they had checked in at the resort office, they strolled to their villa, unpacked, and went to bed.

  The following morning Michael awoke to a salmon sunrise and the sound of waves gently kissing the snow-white sugar sand below. He could smell
the aroma of coffee brewing in the kitchen. He hopped out of bed, shaved and showered quickly, and put on a bathing suit and sandals. When he entered the dining area, Myra had just finished setting the table.

  She poured their coffee, sat down next to Michael, leaned over, and gave him a good morning kiss. “This is going to be such a perfect vacation! I know it will,” she told him. “There’s so much to see and do here in Cancun. I can’t wait to get started.”

  Michael nodded. “I hear you. We can visit the pyramids at Chichén Itzá or the Mayan ruins at Tulum. Perhaps take a boat ride to Isla Mujeres—that’s the Isle of Women—and do some snorkeling. And lots more. Today, though, I’d prefer to just stay here and lie around on the beach or relax by the pool. I’ve a touch of jet lag. But, I’m flexible. What would you like to do today, Myra?”

  Myra took a sip of her coffee. “I really don’t care. It all sounds like fun. Whatever you and Kimberly decide will be fine with me.”

  Michael added two spoonfuls of sugar and one of coffee lightener to his coffee. “We’ll leave it up to Kimberly, then. Where is she, anyway? Is she still sleeping?” he asked quizzically.

  Myra shook her head. “No. Kim must have gotten up very early this morning. She set up the coffee—all I had to do was plug in the cord—and left a note on the table saying she was going to take a quick run on the beach and then stop off at a convenience store to buy a few groceries, so we can have breakfast here in the villa. Kimberly will probably be back any time now.”

  At that moment, Kimberly bounced in the door. She was wearing a turquoise string bikini; her arms were filled with grocery bags.

  “It looks like you bought out the entire store,” Michael commented.

  “Not really,” Kimberly shrugged. “Just a few items for breakfast and some munchies for later. I don’t know about you, Myra, but I didn’t come to Cancun to spend my days cooking.”

  “Nor did I,” Myra agreed wholeheartedly.

  Kimberly set the bags down on the counter, removed a bottle of guava nectar, and filled a glass. She declined when Myra offered to pour her a cup of coffee. After slicing a papaya and halving several Mexican limes, Kimberly put the fruit on a plate in the center of the table, next to another plate piled high with sweet rolls.

  When Michael finished his coffee, Kimberly jumped up and refilled his cup, then warmed Myra’s coffee. She helped herself to a second glass of guava nectar before sitting down, squeezing in between Michael and Myra.

  “Is there anything in particular you’d like to do here in Cancun?” Michael posed the question to Kimberly.

  She moistened her lips with her tongue before replying. “Yes. I’ve planned a marvelous adventure, full of surprises for both of you. This will be a vacation we’ll all treasure forever. If you don’t mind, though, I’d like to keep you in suspense for a little while longer. Go ahead, finish your coffee.”

  “Whatever you say, Kimberly,” Michael acquiesced.

  “We’ll do anything you want,” Myra promised. “Anything at all.”

  Kimberly’s turquoise eyes flashed and she grinned wantonly. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear you say,” she gloated.

  About the Author

  David W. Cowles was born in Los Angeles, California, and grew up in California’s San Fernando Valley. He moved to Las Vegas, Nevada in 1976.

  Cowles is a member of the State Bar of California (inactive) and is admitted and qualified as an attorney and counselor of the Supreme Court of the United States. He’s served as a board member and president of numerous nonprofit organizations, and was awarded Congressional and other commendations for his efforts.

  Cowles founded and was CEO of companies in the photographic and financial communities. He’s flown his own airplanes; traveled extensively; and spent a month as a volunteer with the Israeli Defense Forces.

  For over eight years, Cowles published and edited Keno Newsletter, a monthly publication read by keno players and casino executives. For six years, he wrote a weekly column for Gaming Today. For three years, Cowles wrote op-ed columns and a weekly cooking column for the Peninsula Gateway newspaper in Gig Harbor, Washington. His articles have been published in the Las Vegas Sun and Newsweek magazine.

  Cowles draws on his background and experiences to write in a wide variety of genres including mystery, adventure, thriller, comedy, fantasy, romance, erotica, how-to, children’s, novellas, treatises and expositions, short stories, and cookbooks. Often he’ll combine several genres in one book.

  More books by David W. Cowles

  Please read below to learn about other entertaining and informative Kindle books by David W. Cowles. On many ebook reading devices and applications, clicking on the book titles will take you to the appropriate Amazon.com catalog page for additional information and convenience in ordering.

  The Michael Kaplan Mysteries

  The Michael Kaplan Mysteries are a new generation of novels. They’re murder mysteries with the tempo of fast-paced R-rated movie thrillers, filled with gorgeous wanton women, sleazy, amoral villains, rapid-fire action, multiple killings, explicit sexual encounters, and extremely graphic violence. As with today’s motion pictures, the Michael Kaplan Mysteries are intensely erotic and mayhem-filled.

  In the Michael Kaplan Mysteries, David W. Cowles, a long-time resident of Las Vegas, Nevada, captures the essence and flavor of the exciting “Entertainment Capital of the World” and its surroundings—the glitz, glamour, and grit as seen through the eyes of tourists and gamblers; an insider’s view of the casino industry; and the ordinary hometown known to locals.

  The Michael Kaplan Mysteries provide readers with an accurate insight into the fascinating day-to-day operation of Las Vegas casinos. Readers familiar with Las Vegas will instantly recognize the famous hotels, casinos, and restaurants upon which fictional counterparts are modeled.

  From the prologues through the teasing, I-want-more epilogues, the Michael Kaplan Mysteries abound with strange but interesting three-dimensional characters; demented, despotic, obsessed villains; exciting, romantic locales; constant plot twists and turns; clues, false clues, red herrings, surprises, and gotchas; and an abundance of subtle humor, wordplay, sexual repartee, and erotic situations.

  Seldom are things as they seem in the intriguing, fast-moving Kaplan mysteries. The good guys often turn out to be the bad guys—and vice versa.

  Michael Kaplan is in his early thirties. He’s tall, dark, and handsome; intelligent, educated, and urbane. A woman-charmer, not a womanizer. Masculine, not macho. But Michael has major character flaws that make him fallible, culpable, and a thoroughly different type of mystery hero.

  He’s completely clueless (and therefore helpless) when dealing with the seductive wiles of the beautiful, lustful, sexually predatory women he encounters, until it’s too late for him to avoid entanglement. His naiveté and compete lack of judgment when dealing with the opposite sex keep him in constant trouble.

  Although Kaplan is a law school graduate who passed the California bar exam on the first try, he’s never practiced in the profession. His legal training entitles him to quote the law. His lack of experience causes him to sometimes misquote it, and he frequently proves the adage that “A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.”

  Kaplan isn’t particularly ambitious—in fact, he’s rather lazy. He works beneath his education and abilities as a restaurant critic for the Las Vegas Times. The newspaper’s managing editor continuously prods and goads Michael into taking on additional responsibilities—which he reluctantly accepts, with an attitude falling somewhere between stubbornness, obstinacy, and recalcitrance—and with good reason. Michael has an uncanny ability to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. When bodies are found, convincing evidence usually points toward him.

  Except for one deliberate exception (Cowles never reveals who committed the original crime in Blue Goodness) by the end of the books all the myriad clues fall neatly into place. There aren’t any dusty trails leading to a dead end.

&
nbsp; Many of the realistic plots, sub-plots, and devices—such as the slot route operator scandal and the newspaper joint operating agreement in Buridan’s Ass and the attempted murder of a veterinarian in Blue Goodness—were inspired by actual events that transpired in Las Vegas … examples of art imitating life.

  But then … numerous times, shortly after wholly fictional passages in the novels were written, strikingly similar incidents actually occurred in Las Vegas and were reported by the local media. To the author and those who read early drafts of the manuscripts, it was beginning to seem that putting an idea on paper destined it to happen.

  Cowles wrote in The Tastevin of dead bodies found in the desert. A few weeks later, newspapers reported a like occurrence.

  In Buridan’s Ass, he wrote about mysterious green lights in the skies north of Las Vegas. The words were barely typed into Cowles’ computer when several casinos installed lasers on top of their buildings and residents many miles away complained about being kept awake at night by laser beams reflecting off clouds and mountains.