Dead Beat

by Micheal Maxwell

  “You’re joking,” Donaldson said. He poked his head around the corner to see what all the fuss was about. “You solved this like it was nothing?”

  “We did our best. It really was Flynt’s doing. He figured the whole thing out.”

  The room grew silent. Then burst into laughter. They thought it was another in the long line of put-downs at Flynt’s expense.

  “I’m sure,” choked out one laughing officer.

  “It was all Comrade, really,” Steele insisted. “He figured out the screwed up connections in the wiring on stage. He traced it back to their gear, and plugs, and stuff. It was Flynt that figured out the electrocution was intentional. That led us to the sound guy and then with a little luck and the help from the victim’s girlfriend, we got a confession.”

  The room went stone quiet again; people were shell shocked, expressions of disbelief shown on several faces. The only sound in the room was Flynt, excitedly chewing on a donut.

  “I’ll be damned,” an older uniformed cop said in astonishment.

  “I was a roadie in high school,” Flynt said, speaking for the first time. “Well, that is…”

  “Congratulations,” Detective Ben White said sincerely. He came in behind Donaldson and wore what, to Steele, seemed to be a genuine smile.

  “Awesome, I can’t believe it.” Sanchez, the third of the Detective Musketeers, joined the group shaking his head.

  The room suddenly was filled with cheerful words between colleagues and even more encouragement and congratulations toward Flynt and Steele. Flynt stood with a goofy smile on his face as if waiting for the bucket of water to drop on his head, or the carpet to be yanked out from under him. But, it didn’t come. Several people who never spoke to him before patted him on the back and made friendly jokes and comments about him coming to their house to fix some electrical problems or unplugging their kid’s band.

  It seemed the rank and file were delighted that the Leprechaun solved the case. Maybe it was the moment, maybe it was shock, but the room saw for the first time that the funny little man with the strange hairs and mannerisms possibly proved to not be as useless as they were lead to believe.

  Kerrie Luna was standing against the far wall. As the room began to settle down she made her way to where Steele stood.

  “It looks like you’ve won them over,” she said.

  “I certainly made no points with Weidman,” Steele said with a grimace.

  “What on earth did you say to him?”

  “I said he should give Flynt the credit he deserves, and that I didn’t like his calling my partner names and insulting him. Something like that.”

  “You are something he’s not used to. This bunch of bootlickers would never dream of voicing their opinions. They’re good men for the most part, but they’re also just a bunch of sheep.”

  “He really didn’t like it when I said I would report the abuse to the union if it didn’t stop.”

  Kerrie tried unsuccessfully to hold back her laughter. “You didn’t!” she exclaimed.

  “I did.”

  “I like you, Steele. I can see that having you around is going to bring about all kinds of surprises!” She was laughing as she said it, but her eyes shone with admiration.

  The whole room was talking in muted tones. Then out of the blue, Flynt spoke up. As per the usual, it seemed incredibly random. “You know, I always try to be the best lawman I can be.”

  The room could not hold in their laughter. Flynt chuckled along, polishing off a donut and picking another one. Steele couldn’t contain his smile. Slowly, everyone dispersed, leaving Flynt and Steele alone among the coffee and breakfast treats.

  “Hey Steele,” Flynt said. “Would you rather burn up or drown?”

  “What?”

  “I was just thinking. Is it OK for a man to be afraid of water?

  “You know, I think I found the root of all your problems.”

  “What’s that?” Flynt asked expectedly.

  “Thinking. Far too much thinking. But, by the way, you should know that I do have an unhealthy fear of drowning. I have nightmares about it sometimes. Now,” he said, slapping his partner on the back. “Let’s get to work.”

  Flynt and Steele will return in Dead Duck

  Please Consider This

  If you have enjoyed Dead Beat please take a moment and leave your comment or review on Amazon. Readers like you are the best advertisement in the world!

  Continue reading for an excerpt of Book #2 Dead Duck

  CHAPTER ONE

  The quiet morning was broken by an exaggerated voice, slightly out of breath but altogether happy.

  “In your dreams!”

  This was followed by the faint but slowly growing sound of what, at first, sounded almost like some odd drumbeat. But then several college-aged young men came jogging around a bend in the road that ran alongside Puta Gorda Community College. The crowd was led by a sinewy young man in a red t-shirt and blue running shorts. The bragging comment came from him, and with good reason. Three minutes ago, he was at the back of the pack. The rest of the group stepped up the pace but the young man in the lead turned and started to run backward, taunting the rest of the team.

  “Come on ladies, you’ll never catch me that way!”

  Stillman Keir, or Tilly to his friends, family, and teammates, could often be quite full of himself. He was exceptionally handsome, physically fit, and had a way of being both encouraging and a bully all at the same time. Love him or hate him (and there was a perfect mix of both within the rest of the runners), Tilly was a natural leader. It was why the members of the Puta Gorda Community College Cross Country Team put up with his smart-aleck remarks as they came over a low rise in the street.

  Tilly led them off of the street and onto the trailhead that stuck out at the edge of the woods, just a few yards off of the college’s main entrance. The rest of the team followed him. Some were happy to be out running first thing on a Friday morning but Tilly could tell there were a few—mostly the freshmen—that were daydreaming about what it might be like to sleep in on a Friday.

  Tilly, however, loved it. He loved running and he loved nature. He frowned on the posers that only ran on flat sidewalks and tracks. To him, it wasn’t even running unless you were having to keep an eye out for stray tree roots, fallen branches, rock outcroppings, snakes, and—

  “What the hell is that?”

  The question came from somewhere near the center of the pack. Tilly spotted the runner, a slightly pudgy sophomore named Brent, pointing to the trees behind Tilly. Brent stopped running and was looking out into the forest. They were about a mile off of the campus, far enough away to feel like the school wasn’t even there.

  “Looks like your mom,” another of the runners said, though there was very little humor in his voice.

  Tilly turned around, his back to the runners and is eyes set ahead. He looked up where Brent was pointing and spotted it right away. It took about three seconds for him to actually understand what he was seeing.

  A camouflage-painted pair of legs were dangling from the crotch of a tree about eight feet off the ground. At first, Tilly thought the legs were simply wearing a very tight pair of camo leggings, but no…the legs were naked and were sloppily painted camo colors: grey, that dull green, and black.

  One by one the group came to a stop behind him as if standing behind an invisible fence. Tilly realized all their eyes were on him so he did his best to play the part of the leader and took a few steps towards the tree and the legs.

  Standing back from the tree just far enough to see clearly, but not close enough to strain his neck, Tilly gazed up and could see the body connected to the dangling legs.

  It was a young muscular man’s body, naked but covered head to toe in camouflage body paint. A necklace of feathers was draped around his neck, hanging down to the center of his chest. Tilly cocked his head, the presence of the feathers bringing his mind to a screeching halt. He took a step closer to study them and realized th
ey were duck feathers. Twigs, leaves, and feathers stuck out of his hair in a way that looked too natural to be accidental. It was as if Mother Nature’s junk drawer exploded. Lacerations covered the young man’s face, but that was hardly the most interesting thing.

  The head of a duck protruded from his mouth.

  “Anybody got their phone?” Tilly turned to face the gawking collection of runners.

  “You know the rules,” one of the runners nearest him said. “No phones on runs.”

  “Like that ever stopped anybody!” Tilly rolled his eyes and shook his head.

  “Got mine!” Brent waved his phone in the air, his eyes still on the body.

  “Call 911,” Tilly ordered. “This is sort of messed up, huh?”

  The entire Puta Gorda Community College Cross Country Team nodded their heads in unison, still looking up to the body. Four dead eyes stared back down to them—the eyes of the deceased naked young man and the black eyes on the duck’s head.

  * * *

  The pair of detectives that showed up on the trail an hour and a half later were almost as peculiar as the sight of the naked camouflaged guy and the gruesome snack hanging out of his mouth. One was tall and looked a bit like he stepped out of a Men’s Wearhouse ad. The other was short and seemed to have never combed his hair. The few runners from the cross country team that stuck around would later tell their friends that the little one resembled a leprechaun.

  When Comrade Flynt approached the tree where the body was hanging, he was holding his last bite of a donut. The remaining bite seemed to have more sprinkles than an entire donut would hold. When he looked up the body, he slowly put the last bite of the donut into his mouth. When he chewed, the sound of sprinkles being pulverized could be heard on the trail.

  His partner, Noah Steele, looked over to him with an annoyed look. “You done?”

  Flynt held up a finger as he made a show of chewing faster. After finally gulping it down, he nodded and said, “Good to go.”

  “Initial thoughts, Detective Flynt?” Steele asked.

  Flynt looked at the body for a long moment. They were briefed upon leaving the station and given the rundown: the cross country team over at Puta Gorda Community College was out for a practice run when they came across a naked body hanging in a tree. The body was covered in camo body paint and there was a ducks’ head sticking out of its mouth.

  Sure enough, Flynt and Steele were staring at that very thing. Steele had seen worse in his time as a detective, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anything this strange.

  “Flynt?” he asked, making sure his partner didn’t let his mind wander.

  “Duck or goose?” Flynt asked.

  Steele studied the necklace of feathers around the victim’s neck. They matched the feathers of the duck’s head sticking out of the victim’s mouth.

  “Duck, for sure. The feathers match.”

  “No. I mean to eat. Which do you prefer?”

  “Neither. The correct answer is chicken.”

  Flynt made a hmm sound. It was a ridiculous question, given what they were faced with. But Steele was quickly learning to roll with Flynt’s odd looks, behavior, quirkiness, and questions. There was some sort of method to the man’s madness, but Steele had yet to figure out what it was.

  “Steele, do you think it’s okay for a man to not like to hunt?” Flynt was still staring at the body and the duck head as if his questions were directly related to the grotesquerie.

  “I don’t like to hunt. Too much work. I’ll just go to Ralph’s. Their meat is cheaper in the long run.”

  “Breast or drumstick?”

  “Thigh.” Steel sighed and then leaned in closer to his partner so none of the runners could hear him. “Reign it in, Flynt. Focus.”

  As they looked to the body in the tree, Steele noticed two men coming their way from the other direction along the trail. It was two uniformed policemen, the occupants of at least one of the two police cars Flynt and Steele walked by as they entered the trailhead back at Buchanan Park.

  “Good morning, Lieutenant,” one of the cops said. He was a stocky patrolman, on the older side.

  “Good morning,” Steele replied. “You mind telling me why these kids are still allowed to be here?”

  “Crap,” the second officer said. She was tall, on the young side, with raven black hair. “We were too worried about questioning them. They’ve been helpful in showing us the lay of the land.”

  “All the same…why don’t the two of you push them back out towards the park? They have no business here.”

  The cops both nodded. The older gentleman looked to the seven or eight runners that were standing nearby. “You heard him. We appreciate the help, but we need to get you out of here.”

  “Wait,” Steele said. He eyed the group and asked: “Any of you know him?”

  They all looked back up into the tree as if they needed to look again just to be sure. He got a few vocal nos and lots of shaking of the heads.

  “There’s a girl, though, in the back of Archevo’s car,” the woman officer said. “She’s pretty shaken up. She kept pointing at the victim and calling out a name, seemed to recognize him. She clammed up when we tried to calm her down and get the name.”

  “Shock?”

  “Could be. I was going to have the paramedics take a look at her when you arrived.”

  Steele observed the runners and frowned. “This is an all-male team. Why was there a girl out here?”

  One of the runners stepped forward. “She’s not on the team. She came running through about five minutes after I called it in.”

  “And you are?” Steele asked.

  “Tilly Keir. The team captain. The girl, she was just out for a run. There’s a lot of runners that use these campus trails. It’s not just the cross country team.”

  “She say anything?”

  “Not that I could make out. She was trying to talk, but yeah…like you said. I think she was in shock.”

  Steele considered this as he saw another pair of uniformed people walking along the trail. He recognized one of the faces but did not know the name to go with it. He was still struggling to put names with faces at the precinct. It all still felt brand new to him. What he did know was that the familiar face and the man that came along beside him were both from Forensics.

  “Lieutenant,” the familiar face said as they approached. “You okay? Can we step in now?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “We’re just going to snap photos and see if we can get some casts of the footprints around the tree. For now, I don’t think we should move the body. That high up, just to preserve the body, we’re going to probably need to call a fire truck.”

  “Agreed.” With that, Steele nudged Flynt. “I’m going to go talk to the girl that seems like she recognized the victim. You want to come or do you need to take in the view longer?”

  “I’ll stay here a second.” Flynt was still looking up to the body. “It’s making me wonder, though…”

  “Wonder what, exactly?”

  “My favorite duck has always been Donald. But he never wore pants. You ever notice that? Mickey and Minnie, they wore pants. Even Goofy wore pants. But not Donald…”

  Steele looked to the ground, hoping the Forensics guys didn’t hear him. “I’ll be back at the parking lot if you need me, Flynt.”

  Steele turned and headed back to the parking lot, hoping the girl that ran through earlier could offer up a positive ID. As he walked, he silently cursed Flynt. He’d been right. Donald didn’t wear pants. But neither did Daisy. Or did she? Steele wasn’t sure.

  Steele sighed and shook his head. His eccentric partner was starting to rub off on him.

  Other Books by the Authors

  Micheal Maxwell

  Diamonds and Cole (Cole Sage Mystery #1)

  Cellar of Cole (Cole Sage Mystery #2)

  Helix of Cole (Cole Sage Mystery #3)

  Cole Dust (Cole Sage Mystery #4)

  Cole Shoot (Cole Sage
Mystery #5)

  Cole Fire (Cole Sage Mystery #6)

  Heart of Cole (Cole Sage Mystery #7)

  Cole Mine (Cole Sage Mystery #8)

  Soul of Cole (Cole Sage Mystery #9)

  Cole Cuts (Cole Sage Mystery #10)

  Other Books

  Dupree’s Rebirth – (Adam Dupree Mystery #1)

  Dupree’s Resolve – (Adam Dupree Mystery #2)

  Three Nails (A Tale of Tragedy, Testing, and Triumph)

  The First Chapter (A Collection of Short Stories and The Whistler: A Novel)

  Warren Keith (writing as Barry Napier)

  Dark Water (Cooper M. Reid #1)

  Rival Blood (Cooper M. Reid #2)

  Dust and Bones (Cooper M. Reid #3)

  Eden House (Cooper M. Reid #4)

  From Below

  As Far Away as Possible

  The Hollows

  Bound

  Break Every Chain

  About the Authors

  Micheal Maxwell has traveled the globe on the lookout for strange sights, sounds, and people. His adventures have taken him from the Jungles of Ecuador and the Philippines to the top of the Eiffel Tower and the Golden Gate Bridge, and from the cave dwellings of Native Americans to The Kehlsteinhaus, Hitler’s Eagles Nest! He’s always looking for a story to tell and interesting people to meet.

  Micheal Maxwell was taught the beauty and majesty of the English language by Bob Dylan, Robertson Davies, Charles Dickens, and Leonard Cohen.

  Mr. Maxwell has dined with politicians, rock stars and beggars. He has rubbed shoulders with priests and murderers, surgeons and drug dealers, each one giving him a part of themselves that will live again in the pages of his books.

  Micheal Maxwell has found a niche in the mystery, suspense, genre with The Cole Sage Series that gives readers an everyman hero, short on vices, long on compassion, and a sense of fair play, and the willingness to risk everything to right wrongs. The Cole Sage Series departs from the usual, heavily sexual, profanity-laced norm and gives readers character-driven stories, with twists, turns, and page-turning plot lines.