by Tom Turner
Brindle, a short, intense guy with hair he didn’t spend much time on, eyeballed Janzek’s mode of transportation. “Jesus, Nick, not just a U-Haul but dragging a sorry-ass Honda behind it?” Brindle shook his head. “Thought you were s’posed to be a big-time homicide cop.”
Janzek glanced back at the car that had served him long and loyally. “I’m not much of a car guy, Ernie.”
Janzek looked down at the body sprawled half on and half off the sidewalk. Brindle pulled the sheet back. The late mayor was dressed in an expensive-looking blue suit, which was shredded and splattered with blood. A crushed gold watch dangled loosely from his wrist.
“So, what exactly happened?” Janzek asked, looking around at the cluster of cops, crime scene techs, and a man he assumed was the ME.
“According to a witness,” Brindle said, “he was crossing the street when a black Mercedes 500, goin’ like a bat out of hell, launched him twenty feet in the air.”
“So... intentional then?” Janzek said.
“Yeah, for sure. Guy said he saw the driver aiming a gun.”
“In case he couldn’t take him out with the car?”
Brindle nodded. “I guess.”
“Pointing it out the window?”
“Uh-huh,” Brindle said.
“So, he was a lefty,” Janzek said. “Guy say whether he fired it or not?”
“He didn’t think so. Didn’t hear anything, anyway.”
“How’d he know it was a 500?”
“He’s a car salesman,” Brindle said. “On his way to the bank.”
Janzek knelt down next to the body to get a closer look. It was clear the mayor had landed on his face. His nose was shoved off to one side, and his forehead and cheeks looked like a sheet of salmon.
The guy he figured for the ME, who’d been talking to two men nearby, came up and eyeballed him with a who-the-hell-are-you? look.
“Jack,” Brindle said to the man, “this is Nick Janzek, new homicide guy.” Then to Janzek, “Jack Martin is our esteemed, pain-in-the-ass ME.”
“Good one,” Martin said, crouching down next to the body, then looking up at Janzek. “So, how come you caught this one, Nick?”
Janzek didn’t know the answer.
“’Cause I liked his sheet,” Brindle said.
“Who you got him with?” Martin asked Brindle.
“Delvin.”
Martin shook his head and glanced over at Janzek. “Urkel? Good fuckin’ luck.” Then he noticed the blue parka Janzek was wearing. “You plannin’ on goin’ skiing or something, Nick?”
Janzek glanced down at his coat. “Just drove down from Boston. Weather was a little different up there.”
Martin nodded and kept looking Janzek over.
“Hey, Jack,” Brindle said, “how ‘bout examining the mayor ’stead of Janzek?”
Martin ignored him. “Boston, huh?”
“Yeah,” Janzek said. “Massachusetts.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard of it,” Martin said, looking over Janzek’s shoulder at the U-Haul. He shook his head, shot Brindle a look, and muttered, “Just what we need down here.”
“What’s that?” asked Brindle.
“Another frickin’ wiseass Yankee.”
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Killing Time in Charleston
Afterword
Thanks for reading Palm Beach Taboo.
And to receive an email when the next Charlie Crawford Palm Beach Mystery comes out, be sure to sign up for my free author newsletter at tomturnerbooks.com/news.
Best,
Tom
Also by Tom Turner
CHARLIE CRAWFORD PALM BEACH MYSTERIES
Palm Beach Nasty
Palm Beach Poison
Palm Beach Deadly
Palm Beach Bones
Palm Beach Pretenders
Palm Beach Predator
Palm Beach Broke
Palm Beach Bedlam
Palm Beach Blues
The Charlie Crawford Palm Beach Mystery Series: Books 1, 2 & 3
The Charlie Crawford Palm Beach Mystery Series: Books 4, 5 & 6: Box Set #2
THE SAVANNAH SERIES
The Savannah Madam
NICK JANZEK CHARLESTON MYSTERIES
Killing Time in Charleston
Charleston Buzz Kill
STANDALONES
Broken House
Dead in the Water
For a current list of all available titles, please visit tomturnerbooks.com/books.
About the Author
A native New Englander, Tom dropped out of college and ran a bar in Vermont…into the ground. Limping back to get his sheepskin, he then landed in New York where he spent time as an award-winning copywriter at several Manhattan advertising agencies. After years of post-Mad Men life, he made a radical change and got a job in commercial real estate. A few years later he ended up in Palm Beach, buying, renovating and selling houses while getting material for his novels. On the side, he wrote Palm Beach Nasty, its sequel, Palm Beach Poison, and a screenplay, Underwater.
While at a wedding, he fell for the charm of Charleston, South Carolina. He spent six years there and completed a yet-to-be-published series set in Charleston. A year ago, Tom headed down the road to Savannah, where he just finished a novel about lust and murder among his neighbors.
Learn more about Tom’s books at:
www.tomturnerbooks.com