A Lonely Journey’s End

Geoff Cabin

Description

It’s summer again in Oceanic Park. After the tumultuous events of the previous year, small-town lawyer Ned Johnston has returned to his usual summer routine. At the same time, Johnston is torn between anticipating and dreading the return of Sophia Ambrosetti, the musician and investigator with whom he had worked the previous summer.
Meanwhile, the summer season in Oceanic Park is roiled by anti-immigrant tensions. A group calling itself the Oceanic Park Vigilantes is conducting an anti-immigrant flyer campaign, and an abrasive talk-show host named Walter Braddock is using his show as a platform for spreading inflammatory anti-immigrant rhetoric. When the anti-immigrant campaign turns deadly, Ned Johnston undertakes an investigation. As the investigation progresses, it reveals that nothing is as it appeared at first and ultimately leads to a series of startling discoveries.

Sujets

• Mystery
• Journey
• Park
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris US
• Date de parution: 16 mars 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781669869313
• Langue: English

Extrait

A LONELY JOURNEY’S END
An Oceanic Park Mystery
 
 
 
Geoff Cabin
 
Copyright © 2023 by Geoff Cabin.
 
ISBN:
Softcover
978-1-6698-6932-0

eBook
978-1-6698-6931-3

 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
 
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
Rev. date: 03/14/2023
 
 
 
Xlibris
844-714-8691
www.Xlibris.com
851675
Contents
Chapter 1. Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Chapter 2. Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Chapter 3. Thursday, July 21, 2005
Chapter 4. Friday, July 22, 2005
Chapter 5. Saturday, July 23, 2005
Chapter 6. Sunday, July 24, 2005
Chapter 7. Monday, July 25, 2005
Chapter 8. Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Chapter 9. Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Chapter 10. Thursday, July 28, 2005
Chapter 11. Friday, July 29, 2005
Chapter 12. Saturday, July 30, 2005
Chapter 13. Sunday, July 31, 2005
Chapter 14. Monday, August 1, 2005
Chapter 15. Tuesday, August 2, 2005
Chapter 16. Wednesday, August 3, 2005
Chapter 17. Thursday, August 4, 2005
Chapter 18. Friday, August 5, 2005
Chapter 19. Saturday, August 6, 2005
Chapter 20. Sunday, August 7, 2005
Chapter 1. Tuesday, July 19, 2005
It was one of those mid-summer mornings in Oceanic Park that you can tell is going to develop into a scorching hot day. It hadn’t cooled off much during the night and the temperature already was on the rise again. The sun was a fiery red ball starting to creep above the horizon and, by the middle of the day, would be beating down fiercely on the town, making the asphalt on the streets and the sand on the beach hot enough to burn the soles of people’s feet.
As I did every morning, I made my way through the streets of the Old Town section of Oceanic Park toward Java Joe’s Coffee Cafe. I walked past the familiar surroundings of old-fashioned storefronts, shingled fisherman’s cottages, and Victorian-style hotels that dated back to the earliest days of the seaside resort, around the turn of the prior century. Interspersed among the older buildings, were pre-fab townhouses and semi-high-rise condos of the sort that were starting to encroach on the Old Town neighborhood and alter its character. At that hour of the morning, Old Town had yet to come to life. A few early-risers were out jogging or walking their dogs, but it still was too early for most vacationers to be out and about. Most of them probably still were recovering from the activities of the previous evening.
As I progressed through Old Town, it began to dawn on my still-foggy consciousness that the neighborhood been struck by a flyering campaign during the night. Flyers had been posted in a haphazard manner throughout the neighborhood by attaching them to whatever surface happened to be available - flyers had been stapled to telephone poles, placed under the windshield wipers of cars, and taped to mail boxes, newspaper boxes, and store windows.
I paused by a telephone pole, tore down a flyer, and glanced over it. The flyer looked like it had been created on a computer and then photocopied. Across the top of the flyer was a bold-faced headline that read “PRESERVE OCEANIC PARK’S HERITAGE - IMMIGRANTS OUT NOW!” Underneath the headline was a sub-headline that read “Protect Oceanic Park from Crime, Gang Violence, and Degenerate Third-World Culture.” This was followed by a list of demands: “(1) End unchecked immigration; (2) Make English the official language of Oceanic Park; and (3) Ban foreign-language signs in Oceanic Park.” Beneath the list of demands was a caricature of a sinister-looking Latin American immigrant wearing a sombrero and sporting a Zapata mustache with a gunsight superimposed over top of the image. Underneath of the caricature was another bold-faced headline stating that “YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!” At the bottom of the flyer was the name “OCEANIC PARK VIGILANTES.”
I crumpled the flyer into a ball and tossed it into a trash receptacle. This was the third time this summer that the neighborhood had been plastered with these anti-immigrant flyers. No one had ever heard of the group calling itself the Oceanic Park Vigilantes or had any idea who its members were. The police had announced that they were launching an investigation into the matter, but, so far, they had failed to turn up any information.
I brooded over the matter as I continued on my way toward Java Joe’s. The cafe is housed in a shingled storefront with a large plate glass window that overlooks the sidewalk and a hand-painted wooden sign hanging over the door. As I approached the cafe, I saw Joe Laubach, the proprietor of Java Joe’s, on the sidewalk in front of the cafe, using a putty knife to scrape scraps of flyers and strips of tape off the cafe’s front window. His hair was disheveled, he was unshaven, and he was dressed casually in a loud Hawaiian shirt and khaki cargo shorts. He looked in my direction when he heard me approaching.
“Can you believe this?” he asked, waving his arms in exasperation at the storefront window. “These idiots have struck again!”
“So I see,” I responded. “The flyers are all over Old Town.”
“This is becoming really annoying,” Java Joe continued. “They used heavy-duty packing tape to stick the flyers on the window and that stuff is really hard to get off. I don’t understand how they’re getting away with it. You’d think that someone would have seen or heard something.”
“Whoever’s posting the flyers must be very fast and well organized. Or else they’ve just been really lucky.”
“Or some sympathetic members of the police force are looking the other way when it happens.”
“Yeah, that could be.”
“Have you heard anything more about who’s behind the flyering campaign?”
“No. There’s a lot of rumors and speculation going around, but no one actually knows anything.”
“Well, I’ve got to finish cleaning the window before the breakfast rush starts,” Java Joe sighed. He resumed scraping the remains of flyers and tape off the window and I proceeded to enter the cafe. The interior of the cafe has a casual and comfortable atmosphere that provides an outpost of bohemia amid the gentrification that is creeping through the Old Town neighborhood. A counter with stools runs the length of the room and separates the eating area from the kitchen. Large glass canisters of roasted coffee beans are displayed on a shelf behind the counter and the aroma of freshly-ground coffee permeates the air. The eating area is furnished with mismatched tables and chairs that look like they were picked up at flea markets and second-hand stores. A couch and a couple of easy chairs add a homey touch and a vintage jukebox in a back corner provides a wide variety of music. The walls are decorated with vintage travel posters for destinations known for producing coffee beans - Brazil, Columbia, Jamaica, Java, and Sumatra.
Karen Cardenay, the all-purpose cashier, counterperson, and short-order cook was at work behind the counter, making toast, frying bacon, and flipping pancakes. Karen is a former English teacher who had retired to Oceanic Park and taken a job at Java Joe’s to supplement her retirement income. Her short, dark brown hair was starting to turn grey at the temples and she hobbled bit when she walked due to pain in her knees. Wendy Stevens, the waitress, was taking orders and delivering food to the handful of early-rising customers who were scattered among the tables in the eating area. Wendy is an avid surfer who had moved to Oceanic Park after graduating from high school to be near the ocean. Her long, sun-streaked hair was pulled back into a pony tail and she was wearing a bright red baseball cap tilted back at an angle.
I called “good morning” to Karen and Wendy and walked to the jukebox in the corner. I went through my morning ritual of punching up Stan Getz and Charlie Byrd’s classic recording of Antonio Carlos Jobim’s “Desafinado” on the jukebox, before taking a seat at my usual table nearby.
“How’s the training going?” I asked Wendy when she came to take my order. Wendy was training to compete in the Oceanic Park Surf Tournament, which was taking place the following week.
“Pretty good,” she responded. “Terry’s helping me to work on my arial reentry. I managed to nail a couple of them yesterday.” Terry Mannering is a former professional surfer who had settled in Oceanic Park and opened a surf shop. He was coaching Wendy and a couple of other young surfers to help get them ready to compete in the tournament. “We haven’t seen you out in the waves much this summer,” Wendy added.
“I’ve been really busy,” I said, “but I’ll try to make it out as soon as I get a bit of time.”
As we were talking, Java Joe entered the cafe carrying a bucket in one hand and a putty knife in the other and disappeared into the kitchen. After Wendy took my order, I settled down to read the Oceanic Park Press . The war in Iraq, now in its second year, continued to dominate the news. A fuel truck had exploded south of Baghdad, killing 98 people, and three car bombs