by Rick Murcer
There was some good news. Five days ago, Gavin came out of his coma. The next day, they performed the six-hour surgery to remove the bullet near his aorta, and he came through with flying colors. He’d have some balance issues and some short-term memory problems, but he was going to make it.
Mike sounded so excited when he’d called, then he’d grown sullen. Gavin had remembered how he’d gotten in the IC ward, only he didn’t want to talk about it. Who would?
Manny had gone up to see him, and they were both truly glad to see each other, but neither mentioned the other’s pain. Soon enough.
Taking one more sip, he decided to go for a warm-up of coffee. As he stood, Sophie pulled into the driveway with Alex riding in the back. He hadn’t seen them since the funeral.
Of course, if he’d gone to work, he would have. But that hadn’t happened either. Maybe it never would again, at least not as a cop.
Alex and Sophie had called a few times, sent a couple of e-mails, and so had Josh, Max, and even Chloe, all leaving messages to offer their support. Whatever he needed, they were there. The problem was no one could bring back Louise and fill the indefinable hole in his soul.
Sophie and Alex had someone with them whom Manny didn’t recognize. Alex got out of the back and leaned against the car sporting shorts, a tee shirt, and sneakers.
Sophie was a different story. She was dressed like he’d never seen her. She was wearing a San Francisco Giants baseball cap, a Barry Bonds jersey, and baseball spikes. She had a bat draped over her shoulder with a baseball glove wedged on the end. The new baseball was too big for her small hand. She looked like she was headed for her very first Little League game.
The young lady with them was dressed in pink sweats and matching cap. She walked a step behind Sophie, looking at the ground, like she was embarrassed or shy. Manny guessed a little of both.
“Hey,” Sophie said.
“Hey yourself. Going to a Giant’s game?”
“Hell no. Better than that.”
“Can’t be a Tiger’s game. They didn’t make the playoffs.”
“Better than that too.”
Manny shrugged. “I give up. Tell me. But first, who’s your friend?”
The young lady in pink stepped closer, took off her hat, and looked him square in the eyes. “You don’t remember me?”
He smiled a tired smile. Maybe the first one since the funeral.
“Hi, Shannon. I like this look better than the hooker thing.”
She nodded. “Me too.”
“Are things working out with your foster parents?”
“Better than I could have hoped for, thanks to you.”
He shook his head. “I just made a call. They’re good people.”
Sophie reached down, grabbed his hand, and pulled him up. “Come on. We’re going to the park. We have a bet, and you’re going to pay up.”
“What bet?”
“Remember when you said you could whiff me? Time to see if your mouth wrote a check your ass can’t cash.”
Manny released her hand and backed up the steps. “Sophie, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’m not ready . . .”
He turned and started up the steps. Shannon flew past him and stood in front of the door.
“Sophie says you live to help people. I don’t know about others, but you went out on a limb to help a messed-up, drug-using hooker, angry at all of the bad breaks the world had thrown her way. You helped me when dying seemed like the best way to stop the pain. Let us return the favor.”
He looked in her face and saw Jen in a couple of years. Way too close to home. “I don’t know . . .”
“Please. I think I need this. Besides, Sophie says you have a rag arm, and it’ll be the easiest hundred bucks she ever made. You gonna take that?”
Just then, Jen came around the side of the garage, her softball glove in hand. Not only that, Manny’s baseball spikes and his old Al Kaline glove in the other. She moved in front of Sophie’s SUV. “I . . . I think I might need this too, Dad.”
More conflict welled up inside. The last conversation he had with Louise, he came within an inch of accusing her of being a member of the Justice Club. He didn’t deserve to feel better.
Somewhere deep inside, he knew neither statement was really true. Just excuses to stay checked out.
He watched the drops of coffee in his mug swirl from one side to the other. Quietly, the memory of what the old timer, John Eberle, who had identified Argyle on the Ocean Duchess, had said to him forced its way into the middle of his grief.
There ain’t no reason to die until you’re dead.
The old man had lost his wife, but somehow found the strength to go on, even enjoy life.
He turned to face Sophie. “Did you bring your checkbook?”
***
Three hours later, Jen and Manny returned to the house exhausted, but glad they’d gone to the baseball diamond. He’d watched his daughter, at least temporarily, throw away burdens a fifteen-year-old should never have to bear. He’d ditched one or two of his own.
Even though he’d lost the bet, he’d gained much more. His friends had made him realize that life would go on, for both of them. They weren’t over the hump, not even close, and maybe they’d never be, but they’d taken the first step.
Jen went to her room to get ready for dinner when he noticed the two messages on the answering machine.
He pushed the play button.
Josh Corner’s voice came to life. “Hi, Manny. Just checking in to see how you’re doing . . . never mind, stupid question. Anyway, I want you to know that Max, Chloe, and I are all thinking about you, and when you’re ready, and if you want, we can talk about the position I offered you. Obviously, take your time. No hurry. Hey man, if you ever want to talk, I’m here. Day or night.”
Josh hung up. Good man, maybe he would call him soon. But not about a job.
The second message started.
“Detective Williams.”
Manny stood still.
Argyle.
“I’m so sorry to hear about your wife. I wanted that pleasure. But it does my state of mind a great service to think you’re suffering . . . your daughter, too. Imagine how it will feel when she goes next. I think about her often. What she will be like as she begs me to kill her? Until then, remember detective: one never knows.”
Manny yelled and then ripped the phone from the wall, smashing it against the kitchen floor with such force that it shattered into so many pieces.
Jen flew out of her room and rushed into the kitchen, eyes wide.
“What happened?”
He reached for his daughter, hugging her fiercely. “Nothing baby. Just one of those moments.”
She squeezed him back. “It’s okay Dad; I get those too.”
Thank you so much for reading this book!!
Please go to www.rickmurcer.com to visit me.
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Below are the first four chapters of Emerald Moon . . . another Manny Williams thriller.
I hope you enjoy it.
<
P.S. THANKS FOR LETTING ME PARTICIPATE IN THE REFINEMENT OF THE MANNY WILLIAMS BOOKS. HOPEFULLY WE WILL BE ABLE TO DO MUCH MORE WORK TOGETHER. YOU’RE A GREAT WRITER AND A REAL SICKO MIND. PEACE. ~~EDITOR JAN
Chapter-1
She fastened the last button of her blouse and reached over to pinch his nipple. “Time to get up, sleepy head. We have to get this done in the next hour, per instructions.”
“Yeah. I’m up. Well, I was.”
She giggled. “And you will be again, soon. I promise. But I mean the ‘get dressed and come with me’ up.”
Who said that working with the love of your life could ruin the relationship? Granted, not many husbands and wives did what they did for a living. But they truly loved each other and spending almost every waking momen
t with one another was a bonus.
“Has the money been transferred?” he asked, pulling on his slacks.
She ran the brush through her long black hair. “Yep. Every penny. Just like the last time, and with the bonus he promised.”
He nodded. “You know how we agreed to never look for someone who hires us?”
“Yes. Bad for business.”
“This one has me curious, though. Not just that he wouldn’t tell us who turned him on to us, but the jobs. I mean…cruise ship employees?”
“You’re right, on both counts, but we make a living by not asking questions, and I’d like to keep it that way. She reached up to straighten his tie, catching the look in his big brown eyes. She smiled. “I love you, too.”
He pulled her close, cupping her cheeks with both hands. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, and you’re my wife. Win-win, for me.”
Their kiss was the long drawn-out kind. She loved how his touch made her spine do that little shiver-slip. Not to mention, the way her insides twisted like a hot pretzel when their lips met. Even with his clothes on.
“Win-win for both of us,” she said. “You can whisper more sweet nothings to me later. It’s almost midnight. Let’s go to work.”
They left the posh Miami Hotel and walked, hand-in-hand, to the new Lexus LS parked on the side street, next to the river.
She waited for the street to clear before checking the trunk.
The streetlight revealed the owner of the LS. The scarlet bullet hole between his eyes added an eerie dimension to his frozen expression of surprise.
“Just checking to make sure you’re still with us.” She grinned and slammed the trunk.
“So, how’s he doing?” her husband asked.
“Oh, he doesn’t smell so good, but he looks comfy.”
“It was kind of him to let us drive his new baby.”
“It was.”
Fifteen minutes later, they stepped out of the car on Snapper Creek Drive in South Miami. They removed their gloves, wiped the interior with bleach wipes, and he tossed the keys into the canal.
“Dos keys sleep with da fishes tonight,” he said in his best New York mob voice.
She laughed and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re so talented.”
Holding hands once again, the couple walked north for five minutes. They approached a small stucco ranch.
She kissed him again. “I’ll go first. It’s my turn, isn’t?”
“Anything you want, my darling, anything at all.”
For a moment, that brilliant smile made her forget why they were here. She could jump right here. Right now. She turned away, anticipating the rest of the evening.
Up two steps of the stoop, she saw the light glowing through the tiny front door window. She waived at her husband and then knocked on the door. The custom .40 caliber Glock 22 was in her hand, hidden behind her leg, while she waited for him to answer.
She licked her lips and felt her heart begin to pound. It happened every time. There was no rush like this one, not even making love to her man. Not even that.
Chapter-2
Security Chief Craig Richardson pored over the two case files for the hundredth time. Photos and reports covered his oak kitchen table. A couple of the pages had inherited coffee stains from a cup gone wild, but he barely noticed.
Each folder contained details of the recent murders of two of his security staff from the Ocean Duchess. Puzzling shit. Both victims found at home, shot between the eyes at close range, their throats slit from ear to ear, postmortem. It seemed the neck butchering served no other purpose than to shock whoever discovered the bodies. No witnesses were found. Just as puzzling, forensic evidence was slim, other than a few stray fibers and a ballistics’ report on a .40 caliber bullet in both cases. The rifling on the slugs was close enough to think it could’ve been the same weapon. The barrel may have been retooled between shootings, but the CSU couldn’t be sure. Retooling was rare, but not unheard of. Either way, there was no match in NIBIN, the Fed’s ballistics database.
He’d seen a few execution-style slayings in the Big Apple, but usually the mob or gang connection was clear. The reason for these murders was as clear as the Mississippi River during spring rains.
Both of his people’s background checks were clean. No shady connections that would expose either of them to a gruesome fate. They’d been good people with futures. Those facts made their murders even more perplexing.
His employer, Carousel Cruise Lines, wanted answers neither he nor Miami Homicide had. They didn’t care for excuses, they wanted answers. Now.
To top it off, he was scheduled to depart for his three-month stint on the Ocean Duchess in two days. Unless the killer walked into his house and confessed--fat damn chance of that--there would be no solving these cases before he left.
There was talk of bringing in the FBI. He hated the idea, but thought maybe they should. The Feds weren’t total screw-up’s, at least not always. He’d even toyed with the idea of calling Detective Manny Williams from that hick town in Michigan. They didn’t like each other much, but they’d parted on good terms after that cruise from hell a year ago. The guy was pretty good and might have an idea or two.
The subtle knock on the front door brought him out of his trance. A quick glance at his watch showed twenty minutes after midnight.
Who in the hell could that be?
There had been reports in the neighborhood of renegade teens harassing people with wild door knocking, rocks through windows, and bright graffiti on cars, but there was nothing wild about that knock. In fact, it was a little too controlled to suit his taste. One rap and that was it. Like the visitor knew what was required to get him to answer. And how did anyone know he’d be up?
He hoisted his six-foot-three frame from the chair, (good God he needed to lose some pounds) pulled the Glock 40 from his holster, and moved to the door. His years as a New York cop, and subsequently as Security Chief on the Ocean Duchess, had made him more than paranoid. That wasn’t about to change tonight.
Peeking through the small window, he saw her standing close to the door, her face in plain view. He did a double take. He recognized her.
He unfastened the security chain and unlocked both dead bolts, swinging the inside door open.
“What are you doing here so late?”
“Don’t look so damn mean. I have updates on the murders of your people. Can I come in?”
He stared at her, then caught himself. “Sorry. Of course. It’s been a long four days.”
She brushed by him.
The faint allure of her perfume woke up more than his sense of smell.
She took a few steps and stopped.
His eyes never left her walk. She was a fine looking woman, and it had been awhile since he’d really paid attention.
“Why Chief, were you staring at my ass?”
He looked to the floor sheepishly, then back to her. “Guilty as charged. Not had anyone in my house that looks like you in a long time. Want me to apologize?”
Richardson heard the screen door open behind him, but had no time to turn his large frame. The blow to the back of his head sent him reeling to the floor, groggy, but not out. His hand snaked for his weapon, but the furious kick to the face from his female guest sent him to the realm of darkness.
****************
Her husband closed the door and locked the deadbolts. The clicks sounded like locks in a jail block.
“Ready?” he asked.
“In a minute, darling.” She bent close to Richardson’s face and ran her tongue along his bleeding cheek. “No Chief, I don’t want an apology. I want you to die.”
Chapter-3
“Dad, you’re going to miss the flight. You’d better get your ass moving.”
Manny Williams stopped shoving clothes into his tattered red suitcase and stepped into the hall. “Where did you learn to talk like that, especially to your old man? From Sophie?” He was working hard to hide the smile tha
t was unstoppable.
Sophie Lee, his long-time partner with the Lansing Police Department, stuck her head around the corner from the kitchen. “Hey, you can’t blame me for that one. Have you heard yourself? I mean, where’s the damn bar of soap?”
Jen Williams hauled her overstuffed bag from her room and put her hands on her hips. Manny felt a twinge of nostalgia. She reminded him of Louise, her mother. It had been ten months since Louise had been shot and killed in this very house.
Oddly, at least for him, it wasn’t the house, or the objects in the house, that caused him to miss his wife. It was Jen, growing into a young woman who reflected her mother, Louise’s very spirit, who caused him to hurt for the love of his life.
He supposed that’s why he hadn’t sold the place and moved on, and it was pretty tough to sell your sixteen-year-old daughter just because she reminded you of your dead wife.
“Sorry dad, but I don’t want to be late. I’ve never been on an FBI plane before, and the cruise ship thing is like so cool.”
“Apology accepted. Now get your bag out to the car, Alex is waiting.”
“Yes, dear.”
He swatted her playfully on the shoulder as she rushed to the door.
Sophie walked in from the living room and moved within two feet of Manny’s chest, welding her eyes to his. Happy Chinese-American ancestry dominated her pretty face most of the time. But not now. She was as serious as he’d seen her in months. Too damn serious.
“What?”
“Manny. Are you sure you’re ready for this? I mean, you’ve been out of the game since Louise died.”
He had taken a year off from the LPD to be with Jen. They had started to heal, together, at least had taken some real steps in that direction. They were doing what Louise had wanted: taking care of each other.
“I’m good. Getting to bring Jen with me is a bonus.”
“Yeah. I guess it’s like falling off a bike, especially for you.”
“Maybe. The time with Jen has been nothing short of awesome, but God knows I’ve sat around here long enough. Even with the consulting work I’ve done for Josh Corner and his FBI team, it’s been way too long for a workaholic.”