And Now You Must Die!

Michael Ph.D Markey

Description

World famous author and former police lieutenant T.M.Drake struggles with an agonizing literary dry spell after his wife's fatal bout with cancer in 1998. Now a widower in July of 2002, he battles with life itself, as well as the business of composition. Not a creative sentence on paper for months. That is, until Friday night, when neighbor Nicole Banks dies in a fiery explosion at her home one block down the street. The result of defective plumbing? Lana Sands, her workmate at a local fitness center, insists that an unknown assailant murdered the lovely young widow - and Miss Sands fears she will be next. In this fortuitous twist of fate, Tom (Drake) and Lana become personally (and romantically) involved as they delve into the cause of Miss Banks' demise.

Questions (and bodies) mount and their lives curiously resemble one of Drake's recent best sellers. Who is the second victim discovered in the rubble of that explosion, and why is he there? When Nicky's married suitor dies a few days later, is this another accident - or murder? What about the death of Nicole's analyst not long after the other 'mishaps'? And finally, do these events have anything to do with the fact that Mrs. Banks' husband perished in the World Trade Center Tragedy the previous year?

So many questions emerge over such a few days in the placid world of Tom's home town: York, Pennsylvania. The answers change his life forever, in this tale of healing and renewal for Thomas Michael Drake.

Sujets

• Romance
• Suspense
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: eBookIt.com
• Date de parution: 21 février 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781456606480
• Langue: English

Extrait

And Now You Must Die!
 
by
Michael Markey
 


Copyright 2011 Michael Markey,
All rights reserved.
 
 
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
http://www.eBookIt.com
 
 
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-0648-0
 
 
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
 
PART 1
 
PENNSYLVANIA
 


CHAPTER 1
 
 
Ka-BOOM!
 
“What the hell?” Tom gasped, instinctively diving to the floor as he covered his head. The rock-solid French provincial brick home gave a violent shake. High above him the six huge panes of picture glass on the north side of his den rattled ominously. Usually he greatly appreciated that bright open look of his second-floor workspace, but not in the last few terrifying seconds.
“Must be crazy Nigel again.”
 
I guess.
 
Living alone, Tom Drake often spoke aloud to nobody in particular except for that familiar man in the mirror. In this moment of reactive monologue he referred to Nigel, that elderly gentleman who lived a few streets down, on Fairfax Drive. The distinguished white-haired Brit was a passive but eccentric individual with a hankering for ‘harmless’ explosives.
“Whenever that old boy fires his damned cannon…”
Drake crawled to his feet – surveying, processing, and deducing. He felt profoundly embarrassed at his reaction to the blast outside. No, it wasn’t Nigel after all. (He heard no verse of “God Save the Queen” blaring from a bull horn after the rude discharge.) And thunder was out of the question too, as late-day sunlight brightened his upstairs office only minutes ago.
Earthquake? No, this was not exactly a prime location for seismic phenomena, although in isolated situations these things have happened.
A brilliant gleam filled the room. He found it difficult to believe that most of his den windows faced an entirely contrary direction, to view the city nestled below his home…but not the angle of this source of light.
Tom quickly recovered from the violent pitch of his comfortable abode, and regained his sea legs. He trudged to the nearest pane on the east side of his house. There, Drake witnessed a ginormous ball of flame engulfing a neighbor’s home in the next block, slightly down the hill from his own. What an awesome sight, breaking the tranquility of this little slice of paradise on Upland Road. From Upland, residents gazed down daily on the panorama of York City.
 
That’s York down there, sprawling home of forty-some thousand folks in south central Pennsylvania.
 
Drake slipped into a pair of worn deck shoes, dashed his way down the stairs and bolted to the front of his home for a better look. Before he could access the entrance his doorbell rang, followed by banging from outside.
“Tom? Ho, Tom! You in there?”
Drake recognized the voice immediately.
Marty Swartz, his neighbor from across the street.
“Yeah, I’m here. What’s going on?” He pulled the door wide as he spoke.
“Helluva fire down the street. God! You gotta take a look at this.”
Even through the stately oak trees on the lower side he could see the stick-built interior of the two-story cedar-clad dwelling engulfed in bright flame. He felt the heat, even from his yard.
As they stared, watching the drama unfold, another couple joined them – behind Marty…Nevin and Justine Arbrogast, Drake’s neighbors on the upper side.
“Oh dear God in heaven! Are they coming for us in our own homes?”
“Huh?”
“The terrorists, Martin…those heathen terrorists, of course.”
“C’mon, Teenie…what are you talking about?”
You heard it in the tone of her voice. She absolutely hated it when he referred to her as ‘Teenie’.
“You saw what they did in New York City last year. What’s to stop them from…?”
“That was New York City, not York City.”
“It doesn’t make any difference to those cold blooded killers, Mister Swartz. We attended this terrorism class down at our church, for nearly two months now. I was shocked at what these people have in mind for us poor innocent Americans.”
Tom stayed out of this one. The Arbrogasts were the self-appointed information coordinators for the neighborhood. They tracked what went on there, and what you ‘needed’ to know to function with your day-to-day life, according to Justine’s code for her community. Their agenda apparently now included local terrorism; Marty was in a no-win situation.
“I was in the den when I heard it,” said Drake, changing the subject. “Don’t know yet whether or not I lost any windows.”
“Yeah, I was just getting comfortable in the family room, watching TV. I thought for a moment the world came to an end.”
Dumbstruck, the two merely watched for a few moments…also ignoring the Arbrogasts. Except for pedestrians and the roar of flames, the street remained eerily quiet up and down the lane as other folks stared…no doubt mortified.
“That blonde widow lives there, right? The new neighbor.”
“Blonde widow? Don’t know, Marty.” He continued to stare. “I bet you there’ll be nothing left of the place when this is over.”
“But I’m saying, isn’t it the home of that young lady who lives there all by herself?”
“I’ll take your word for it. I lost track of who moved in and out of our neighborhood the last few years.”
“Yes, it’s that blonde widow person, all right,” Justine broke in again. “Frankly I’m surprised you two MEN don’t know all about her.”
“Let’s go get a closer look, Tom.” Marty inched his way from the Arbrogasts.
“Hope nobody was home.”
“It’s Friday night, so she probably went out.”
They hoofed it down the street for the first half block. Nevin and Justine followed behind.
“That’s far enough for me.”
“C’mon…”
“With that heat? Marty, I don’t think so.”
“What about that inquisitive nature of yours? I thought you were once the damned good cop who loved this stuff.”
“It’s the middle of July…during a record heat wave. Why can’t we leave it to the guys who know what they’re doing?”
Drake retraced his tracks. Yes, he was interested. But continue on? That was an act of utter stupidity.
Martin Swartz stared down the street again, forlorn at his neighbor’s decision to take a pass on their query. He then backed away from the thoroughfare as pure chaos ensued. A steady stream of fire apparatus, emergency vehicles, and patrol cruisers poured in, and screeched to a halt as they rallied round this literal ‘campfire’. From that point a platoon of uniformed public servants scrambled about and patrolled the neighborhood, fanning out to roust inhabitants from adjoining homes.
Drake knew the drill in these situations.
“Good. They’re getting everyone out of the area.”
“Are we to be evacuated too?”
“I guess we’ll know in the next few minutes.”
“Look, if you’re not going to entertain me with an up-close-and-personal gander down the road, how about a martini instead? Something to do until we get the signal to surrender our houses too.”
“As pandemonium strikes our street, you are ready for the cocktail hour.” Tom shook his head.
“You said to sit tight and not interfere.”
Tom looked at his watch.
“Six-thirty on a Friday night? C’mon…bar’s open.”
“Well, at least Nevin and I shall be totally informed as to what’s going on in our neighborhood. If you simply don’t care about these things, we will see you later.” Justine stepped off, her diminutive husband lagging on behind. “Nevin? We don’t want to miss anything.”
“Yes, dear.”
Tom sensed the resignation in the voice of Mister Arbrogast.
 
Not that I’m a thoughtless boob of a neighbor, but once in a great while you need to simply take a step back and use a generous dose of common sense. We’ve got absolutely no excuse to interfere. I’m certain these folks can handle it… just like we always did in the ‘old’ days.
 
“Jesus, what a freaking wimp. I don’t know how he puts up with Teenie. Tommy-Boy, you are one great neighbor, offering a drink to keep me away from those two,” Marty grinned, and then followed Drake into his house. “If you ask me, since Nev retired last year, those two have entirely too much time on their hands.”
“I’ll meet you on the back patio. We can watch all the excitement from around the corner.”
Tom quickly retreated to his wet bar, assembled the vodka, dry vermouth, and ice, and poured the elixir into martini glasses. Dropping two olives in each, he joined Swartz in the rear, overlooking a muggy (and now smoky) York City.
“Ah! Nectar of the gods,” Marty sighed, receiving his glass – communion style.
They sipped in silence and observed as the drama unfolded down the street: evacuation staff ushered nearby residents to higher ground for safety’s sake, and firefighters assembled their equipment to tackle the blaze while police redirected unwelcome ‘guests’ who sought cheap entertainment. Seated under a broad elm on Tom’s massive rear patio, they remained far enough behind his home that they viewed everything and still relaxed in comfort beyond the heat…of the flames, at least.
“I feel I’m so damned uncaring, watching like it’s some holiday fireworks display.”
“Trust me, Marty…those guys sincerely want helpless citizens to stay the hell out of their way. We can always take the ten-cent tour later.”
“You don’t suppose there was a hint of truth to what she was saying.”
“Who? Justine?”
“I mean, basically I’m ninety-nine percent certain she’s nuts, with all her talk of fear and terrorism.”
“These two certainly do their best to manifest panic in the neighborhood. But in this case she must be way out of line.”
“My thoughts exactly, Tom. I feel that, with nine-eleven, these guys made their point. They wanted to strike the U.S. financial, communication, and defense excesses. And they accomplished all that in one single morning with great success, unfortunately. But to take a pot shot at a quiet neighborhood