Dead Wrong: Lukas Boston - Private Investigator Book One

by Logan May

  Harry wisely didn’t say anything.

  Raymond said to Max, ‘Grab the gear. We’ve gotta go. As for you,’ he pointed at Lukas, ‘Drop around for another beer and we’ll talk about who owes who, okay? We’ll square the ledger.’

  ‘Can’t wait, I love that comfy chair,’ Lukas said.

  Max, Bob and Oscar examined the organ for a moment, argued among themselves and finally picked the whole thing up, shuffling awkwardly off the stage and towards the front door. Max said over his shoulder, ‘We’ll get it in the trunk somehow.’

  Raymond waved impatiently and announced grandly, ‘I’m sure we’ll all be seeing each other soon.’

  He followed the organ out of the church, holding his arms in the air like a triumphant prize fighter.

  Straight into the cordon of waiting FRT, who knew better than to run inside any building where people were trying to shoot each other. It was much safer to wait outside and see who came out in one piece.

  SIXTEEN

  Lukas and Beth stood outside in the cold and drizzling rain, surrounded by forensic personnel in their white suits, a myriad of police vehicles with flashing blue lights and a gathering media gaggle on the fringe of the car park. They’d been kicked out of the comparative warmth of the church because the amount of bullets sprayed everywhere turned the whole place into a crime scene. The criss-crossing blue tape looked like a spider’s web.

  ‘Your assistant?’ she asked him, glaring. ‘What kind of crap is that? You should have let me arrest him.’

  ‘If Raymond knew you were police he might have killed us all. He’s as nutty as a squirrel.’

  ‘Oh…’

  ‘You can thank me later.’

  ‘Thanks—there, I’ve done it. Can we move on?’

  ‘Next question?’

  Beth hesitated and said quietly, ‘Did I see what I think I saw in there?’

  Lukas said, ‘Ah… you mean Gavin Hucknall? Yeah, he dropped in for a visit. You get used to it after a while. I wouldn’t let it worry you.’

  ‘You’ve seen him before?’

  ‘Bastard won’t leave me alone lately—well, maybe he will now. It’s a gift, apparently. Seeing dead people, I mean.’

  ‘Right,’ she said, thinking it over. ‘As if I needed any more reason to stay well clear of you.’

  ‘Really? I was thinking that after tonight with you and I sharing… you know, a bit of an adventure, a kind of bonding thing… you might be more open to going out for a drink sometime? A nice meal somewhere?’ Against his better judgment Lukas tried The Smile on Beth one more time.

  ‘How many times do I have to tell you not to try that stupid smile on me?’

  ‘I’m only smiling.’

  ‘No, you’re not. That’s it, I’ve had enough. I’m going to catch a lift back with a patrol car.’

  ‘What’s wrong with mine? I’ll give you a ride. It was good enough for getting here.’

  ‘You’ll be in it, that’s what’s wrong,’ Beth called back.

  While Lukas tried to think of a quick reply his mobile phone chimed that it had a message. It was from Julie Monroe.

  You have a lot of explaining to do. Don’t forget, there’s more than one way to skin a rabbit.

  Lukas winced at the thought. So much for making Julie feel indebted. Still, for once she wasn’t threatening to actually kill him. That was a positive.

  His phone chimed again. Lukas expected a follow-up from Julie with the forgotten death-threat. But it was from Karen Roland.

  Just got hired by Raymond Monroe. Make sure you don’t say a word about him or I’ll have you arrested for contempt of court and put in jail. See you tonight! XX K.

  ‘Oh, that’s just great,’ Lukas groaned, sending back “OK”. He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  At least Barbara had her precious, damned cat back. Lukas wouldn’t be hearing from her again.

  His phone started ringing.

  END

  TURN THE PAGE FOR AN EXCERPT FROM THE NEXT LUKAS BOSTON MYSTERY, HUNG OUT TO DIE

  Hung Out To Die.

  As far as derelict warehouses go, this one was typical—apart from the corpse hanging from the rafters. The body cast a grim, long shadow from the beams of cold sunlight streaming from a line of skylights in the roof.

  The place was big, built on an old harbour dock with wooden piers beneath and a weathered timber floor. A labyrinth of forgotten packing crates was piled high along with sea containers and stacks of loading pallets covered by musty sacking. The abandoned goods created a maze of narrow passages and alleys that stank of rat’s droppings and rotting hessian. Outside, seagulls could be heard wheeling hopefully above the wharves and ships, the water of Port Phillip Bay below them glinting under the weak winter sun with patches of spilled oil and scum-lined waste. The next stop south was Tasmania, then Antarctica. The sunlight had so little warmth that these might have been a stone’s throw away, not thousands of miles.

  The dead man was suspended above a clear area among the clutter and near the middle of the building. In the gloom, the circle of surrounding boxes and rubbish was like the edge of miniature, dusty city.

  Lukas Boston stared up at the corpse and said, ‘Yep, I know him. Edward Rewold. The last time I saw him, he looked a lot healthier. Not so... blue around the face, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘Was he a miserable bastard?’ Detective Peter Goodall asked. ‘Miserable enough to do this to himself?’

  ‘Not at all. He needed a good private investigator and I came highly recommended—highly recommended. You don’t hear that too often, do you?’

  ‘Certainly not where you’re concerned,’ Goodall said. ‘What was the problem?’

  ‘I can’t tell you. Client confidentiality and all that. I’m sure you understand, Pete.’

  ‘I understand that your client is dead and hanging from the roof. He won’t be putting in any complaints.’

  The two men stood side by side. Lukas was tall and lean, with a shock of black curly hair and brooding, green eyes. Goodall looked more like the policeman he was—spending too much time at his desk and gaining pounds on his already thickset body with every donut he ate. His hair was thinning and grey. Both of them hunched into heavy coats. The air was chilly and a wind coming off the water made it sharper. Inside, the shadows seeped a dank, unpleasant cold.

  Lukas said, ‘Your powers of detective observation are almost Sherlock Holmes-like at time, Pete. I’m impressed.’

  Goodall just looked at Lukas, waiting.

  ‘And I’ve got my professional reputation to consider. A very good one, apparently.’

  ‘Give me a break, Lukas. We haven’t got all bloody day.’

  Lukas looked hurt. ‘All right, keep your shirt on. I’m investigating a bit of in-house robbery in Rewold’s home. Probably done by one of his own family, so he doesn’t want to call you blokes in. Rewold’s really pissed off, but prefers to keep it private.’

  ‘How much are we talking about?’

  ‘Money? I don’t know.’ Lukas shrugged. ‘But I’m guessing that it was little more than petty cash for this guy. Hardly worth stretching your neck for.’

  ‘Seriously? You don’t know how much?’

  Lukas protested his innocence with a gesture. It was true, Rewold hadn’t told him.

  Goodall said, ‘He’s on the wrong side of eighty. Maybe a terminal illness and he didn’t want kick the bucket too slow?’

  ‘Fit as a fiddle when I saw him.’

  One of the forensic team walked past. Although she was dressed in a baggy, white overall she had a shapely figure underneath it, so the two men still watched appreciatively.

  ‘Hi Denise, how’s it been going?’ Lukas asked lightly.

  Without turning around or saying anything, Denise flipped him a middle finger and kept going.

  Goodall said, ‘Have you been disappointing my female officers again?’

  ‘Okay, let me ask you,’ Lukas said. ‘How many times can you expect to sleep
with a woman before she should start thinking that the relationship is... you know, exclusive? That you shouldn’t be having sex with anyone else?’

  ‘I dunno,’ Goodall thought it over. ‘Three times maybe. Four tops, I guess?’

  Lukas was annoyed. ‘Well, there you go. You and Denise apparently have a few things in common, strangely enough. Personally, I would have said five or six times, right?’

  ‘Did you count the early dates? Going out to dinner and stuff without taking her home afterwards? The nights without sex?’

  ‘Without sex?’

  Goodall sighed. ‘Hard to imagine, I know, Lukas.’

  ‘All right, assume that happens, do they count?’

  ‘Of course, they count.’

  Lukas pulled a face and muttered something.

  Goodall said, ‘How’d she find out about the other woman?’

  ‘First hand, unfortunately. I really must figure out a better place to hide my spare front door key.’

  Goodall blew out his cheeks in sympathy, but hid a pleased smile. He nodded at the hanging man. ‘Notice anything strange?’

  Lukas obliged, studying the corpse again. ‘Rewold’s wearing a really nice suit and he’s got bare feet. A Paul McCartney fan?’

  Goodall squinted at him. ‘What?’

  ‘You know, that picture of the Beatles crossing the street in front of Abbey Road studios and Paul McCartney’s got no shoes on...’ Lukas’ voice trailed off as he saw Goodall wasn’t interested. ‘You don’t like the Beatles?’

  ‘I’m a Johnny Cash guy myself,’ Goodall said flatly. ‘Real country and western, not that bubblegum country shit they play now.’ He pointed at the body. ‘Why don’t you take a closer look?’

  Careful not to disturb any of the forensic people, Lukas stood right next to Rewold and examined him, waiting for something to leap out. He started saying, ‘Maybe he didn’t want to piss on his best shoes? Sometimes they think about stuff like that—’ Lukas stopped, surprised as one of the forensic team took a cue from Goodall and lifted the corpse’s legs, one by one, so Lukas could see the soles of Rewold’s feet.

  On the bottom of one foot in green marker pen was written “Lukas” and on the other was “Boston”.

  ‘That’s odd,’ Lukas said.

  ‘You think so? That’s why you’re here,’ Goodall told him. ‘Mind you, there’s always odd shit happening whenever you’re involved. What the hell is it about you?’

  ‘Why does it always have to be my fault?’

  ‘Because it usually is your fault. Are you still saying this has nothing to do with your missing petty cash?’

  ‘Let’s not rush into anything.’

  ‘No one’s paying you by the hour here, Lukas.’

  Lukas ignored that, thoughtfully regarding the body. ‘Have the rest of the Rewolds been informed he’s dead?’

  ‘Yes, but nobody’s been interviewed. We just broke the news and no one exactly burst into tears. You’d think we’d told them their pet parrot had fallen off the perch. A little suspicious, if you ask me.’

  ‘Then why not let me talk to the family first? I might get more out of them.’

  ‘If you think it’s worth a try.’

  Lukas stared up at the corpse’s face and thought, And I can try talking to someone else, too. Like maybe this guy.

  END

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  If you enjoyed Dead Wrong and have a few moments spare, posting a brief and honest review of this book on Amazon will be of tremendous help to myself and to other readers, too. Of course, if you didn’t like this book, I’d like to know that as well. Feedback from readers is important and I’ll appreciate all comments and suggestions for making my books better.

  Thanks, Logan May.

  Serious Stuff…

  DEAD WRONG

  by LOGAN MAY

  This Ebook Kindle edition published in January 2017

  Copyright for all editions owned by Logan May.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Logan May is a pen name for G.M.Hague. (Graeme Hague) Check my website at www.graemehague.com.au for more Lukas Boston books not listed here.

  In the interests of allowing readers to freely exchange this Ebook between their own personal devices I’ve not applied any Digital Rights Management restrictions myself, although there may be some DRM in place beyond my control according to the format you’ve purchased (for example, Amazon’s Kindle). Therefore I’d appreciate it, if you didn’t support digital piracy by freely distributing this book. If you’d like any information or simply want to get in touch my website is at www.graemehague.com.au and my email address is mailbag@graemehague.com.au. My Facebook page is under the name Graeme Hague.

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