by Brian Meeks
Contents
Chapter One - Copyright
Henry Wood Detective Agency
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Henry Wood: Time & Again
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Henry Wood: Perception
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Henry Wood: Edge of Understanding
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
>
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Epilogue
Reach the Author
About the Author
CHAPTER ONE
Copyright
HENRY WOOD DETECTIVE AGENCY: BOOKS 1-4
BRIAN MEEKS
This is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and story contained within, are created within the fertile imagination of the author. Any resemblance to persons, whether living or dead, or any events, are purely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means electronic, mechanical, printing, photocopying, recording, chiseling in stone, or otherwise, without the written permission from the publisher, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review. For information regarding permission contact the publisher.
Copyright© 2015 by Brian D. Meeks All rights reserved.
HENRY WOOD DETECTIVE AGENCY
CHAPTER 1
It wasn’t the weather, or the city, or the cars passing that struck Henry. It was how, at 3:00 a.m., everything seemed so black and white. It was 1955. Henry’s life was about to change, and there would forever be shades of gray.
The city seemed uninterested in the goings-on of a single detective who was wandering home after ringing in the New Year. All around, people were out smiling and kissing, and more than a few stumbling. It was two more blocks until he reached his apartment, alone. He had a house but didn’t want to drive, which is why he kept the tiny apartment. It was nice to be able to stay in the city if the need arose…or the drinks were flowing. The life of a private detective wasn’t glamorous; most days were spent chasing deadbeats, watching cheaters, or sitting alone in an office wondering how one ended up there.
Henry got to his place and stumbled through the front door - not quite hitting the floor but needing to put a hand down. He was several sheets to the wind and couldn't remember the blonde's name. The one at the bar with the great smile and huge…
He tossed his hat in the direction of the hat tree - he was nowhere close to it - and staggered to the kitchen table. A bottle of vodka was sitting there, waiting for him. Being a thinker, Henry had placed it there before heading out to celebrate the New Year, knowing it would welcome him home if he made it back in one piece. He had forgotten a glass, so he took a small pull from the bottle. The warm glow of a New Year and the thought of the blonde's midnight kiss made him smile. He just wished he knew her name or where she had gone.
Some detective, he thought, you can't even keep track of a dame you were kissing. It might have been the sailor at the end of the bar. He had been giving her looks. Case closed, he concluded. Not because he was sure but because he didn't care. He decided he should go to bed but, while he was getting up the energy to go to the bedroom, passed out at the table.
* * *
In a flat in Brooklyn, a dark-haired woman sat alone. She couldn't believe it. Her frantic worrying and pacing hadn't helped, so she tried several hours of tears to no avail. Now she just sat in her kitchen, legs pulled up to her chest, alone with her fears. She looked at the clock; it was 3:37 am.
On the table next to a plate of fresh-baked cookies was a pad with an address on it. The name of the detective she had found in the phone book was underlined three times. She had planned to go visit him on the third, which would be Monday, but the anguish had become unbearable. She decided she could go into the city in a few hours and leave a note for him. It wouldn't really speed things up, but she needed to do something. She was tired and ended up writing the note, but “Dear Henry” was as far as she got before her head was resting by the cookies.
CHAPTER 2
Henry had hoped the walk to his office would help him feel better. It hadn’t. There wasn’t any work to do, but Henry still liked being there - mostly because it was quiet. Henry wished he had stayed in bed.
Henry's head was still throbbing from ringing in the New Year. He looked at his calendar, a present from his brother in Manhattan who was a New York Giants fan of all things. The calendar had a team picture of The World Series Champion Giants who swept the Cleveland Indians in four games. It was galling to look at it. He mumbled to himself, “At least the damn Yankees didn't win their sixth in a row.” Although Henry didn't care for the Giants, the previous two years had seen his beloved Brooklyn Dodgers beaten by the Yankees. He could barely stand it, but looking at January 1, 1955 filled him with hope and optimism. This would be the year for Robinson, Hodges, Snider, Reese, Koufax, Newcomb, Campanella, and the boys. His daydreams were interrupted when there was a mouse-like knock at the door. He started to yell, “Come in,” but then lowered his voice and mumbled, “Yes?” His headache made him wince in pain.
The door opened slowly, and a tall, svelte woman eased herself into his office. Her dark hair was pulled back in a bun. She was quite striking but obviously shy. He guessed librarian. “May I help you?” he asked, trying not to sound miserable.
“Are you Henry Wood, the detective?”
“Yes, and you are?”
“I’m Luna Alexander, and I’m afraid my father has gotten into a sticky situation. I need your help. I’m sorry to bother you, and I didn't think you would be here, but…”
Henry was a detective by day and a woodworker by night. To be truthful, he was a moderately good sleuth but a subpar craftsman. Just two days earlier he had been gluing up a jig for his router to cut perfect dados, and the squeeze-out had gotten everywhere. It had been a sticky situation in its own right. He turned his attention back to Luna, who, he was sure, wouldn't be interested in his gluing issues.
After she told him about her father and his background and the last time he had been seen, Luna asked if she might sit down. When she took a seat, it seemed as if the weight of the world threatened to crush her. She looked defeated and sad. “Will you help me?”
Henry was about to say it sounded like a missing persons matter for the police but instead said, “I would be happy to take your case, Luna.” She gave the slightest smile, stood, and shook his hand. Henry wasn't sure, but he thought he caught a glint of hope in her eyes. She handed him an envelope and said, “My address and number are in there along with the retainer. Please let me know as soon as you find out anything.”
As the door closed, he took out his little notebook and jotted down the details. Luna’s father was a senior-level accountant with the Smith, Havershome and Blickstein law firm and had been with them for 20 years. He and Luna lived in a modest flat in Brooklyn, and he took the train into the city. Luna worked at a bakery and was up and gone before her father but also arrived home several hours before him. She described him as a meticulous man. He liked routine and always came home at 6:22 each evening. Lately, however, he had been getting home at all sorts of odd hours and would skip dinner, not even bothering to listen to the radio. He loved his job, he loved radio mysteries, and he loved routine. She mentioned first noticing something strange when her father didn't even react to 'The Shadow' going off the air.
Henry wondered if 'The Shadow' knew what lurked in the heart of Mr. Alexander. He headed back to his tiny house and went into the basement. He checked his magic closet, which held a time portal to the future. The story of the portal was a mystery Henry had not been able to solve, although he had tried. Since it hadn't yet sucked him into an abyss and often gave him
presents, he didn't care. Occasionally a new and wonderful tool would show up. The Bosch router had arrived just a month or so earlier with a magazine describing all sorts of things it could do. Today it was empty. The glue up from the day before was ready for him to start the next step. He found woodworking helped him mull over his cases.
The instructions in the magazine indicated the dimensions were rough. Henry figured he needed the practice, so he devoted considerable time to precision. After cutting two pieces, he realized he hadn't accounted for the thickness of his circular saw blade and had also made a measuring error of two full inches. It amused him that his attempts at precision had been such an abysmal failure. Henry had anticipated as much and had purchased plenty of extra lumber in preparation. On the upside, he had gotten much more comfortable with his circular saw. Henry was a glass half-full sort of guy.
He took a few photos of the glue up and went upstairs to call Mr. Alexander's firm. His foggy brain slowly remembered it was Saturday and also January 1, so he would have to wait to make the call until Monday. He returned to his jig and thought about Luna.
CHAPTER 3
Sunday had been relaxing. Henry spent the day finishing the dado jig for his router. He was starting to get comfortable using the router and was able to create a straight edge and, from that, to square up the jig. He could hardly believe it when he put the square on each corner, and they were all 90 degrees. What a rush. After he finished the jig and photographed it for posterity, he relaxed a bit and started a new case journal. He jotted down a few of his thoughts:
Jan 2, 1955. A New Year…A New Case. 37th floor, Chrysler Building, Office 16…Go there in person; meet Mr. Alexander's co-workers; look for clues. 8 am, Monday.
Henry had called Luna, just to check if she had heard from her father. He told her he intended to look around his office on Monday. She mentioned she suspected someone at the firm. Her father had been missing since December 24, and Monday would be the first day the firm was open since he disappeared. Henry wondered if they knew he was missing. He would need to be coy.
The door of Mr. Alexander's office was mahogany and had his name on it. Henry walked in, and a weathered woman, with a serious look, was sitting behind a desk. She had a slight scowl on her face and was opening the morning mail. She looked up and asked, “May I help you?” in a voice that was much kinder than Henry expected. “Yes, I was wondering if I might speak with Mr. Alexander,” he said, taking off his hat. He had decided to play it cool and gauge her reaction.
“Mr. Alexander isn't in yet, but he should be here shortly; he is never late. Do you have an appointment?” she said, while continuing to open letters.