Crescent Beach

John Hatch

Description

Crescent Beach has something for everyone who enjoys sitting by a fire on a cold evening, or outside on a porch and reading a good murder mystery. There is also the potential for a second book in the series. It is a book about perceptions, about police officers, newspaper men and women and the Russian mob from Chicago. It begins with a murder in Chicago and then takes off on a journey that covers the small town of Crescent Beach, Florida, sailing in Bahamian waters and Savannah, Georgia. Who comes out of this tale alive is anyone’s guess.

Sujets

• Crescent Beach
• Adventure
• Fiction
• Action

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris US
• Date de parution: 21 septembre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781669845874
• Langue: English

Extrait

CRESCENT BEACH
JOHN HATCH

Copyright © 2022 by John Hatch.
 
ISBN:
Softcover
978-1-6698-4588-1

eBook
978-1-6698-4587-4
 
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: 09/22/2022
 
 
 
 
 
Xlibris
844-714-8691
www.Xlibris.com
846612
CONTENTS
Introduction
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
INTRODUCTION
A subdued, pastel glow matched his mood as the early light from a cool April morning filtered in to Dillard’s office in Crescent Beach, Florida. This was his quiet place where cherry wood bookshelves appeared to pulsate with the sun as it rose higher in the sky. He sighed in watching the changing shadow patterns with fascination, how the titles of books on far wall shelf suddenly appeared while others disappeared with each shift. Pondering these shifting patterns became a burden, movement impossible as he thought about his upcoming meeting.
On the phone Detective Schmitt proved more pleasant than Dillard had remembered. Though, he was a cop like pleasant as he always seemed to leave something unsaid, raising suspicions with every word and sending up red flags with each new inquiry. How Dillard would handle Schmitt’s intrusion was another thing. Those thoughts were shadows like his world, constantly changing.
Yesterday it had been dinner with the mayor and a couple city councilmen talking about a new bridge to the beach. The day before it was an old friend now living in Ponte Vedra Beach and the conversation turned to old times, surfing, and how so many surfer girls they’d known then were successful women today, surfing and the good ole days. Dillard leaned back in his chair and looked outside where he was greeted by the changing color of a sky that now allowed a light blue to seep through the pink. He smiled to himself when thinking about detective Schmitt and his waiting day.
When Sheri walked into his office she came with an energy he hadn’t felt in quite some time. He grinned at her zest. “Hey sweetie,” he said, standing from his chair to meet her with a big hug.
“Hey,” she replied, knowing he’d grown impatient waiting. “This is what you’ve been waiting for.” With a wave and rustle of paper she moved closer, hugged him then handed him a copy. Sheri frowned.
He stood away and slowly lifted the paper to eye level, then began patting his pockets, first shirt then pants searching for a pair of readers, “Oh hell, I can tell by the look on your face Sher. It was Cowen’s boat, wasn’t it?” As he said it he moved his chair backwards. “Shit!” He sighed heavily.
“Yes, it was,” Sheri moved to a point over his left shoulder and began to read what she’d already read.
“Damn, I had a sneaking suspicion!” Dillard mused as he scanned the Coast Guard report. His eyes rose once or twice, and after a slight pause, “I don’t get it he was so close. Why the hell didn’t he call me? Between here and Freeport.., sshh..”
“I know you’re reading but you’ll see they haven’t found him yet.” Sheri plopped in chair to the left of his desk. “Only his boat, and a lot of blood. According to a Coast Guard Admiral who is in charge of this area, the cockpit looked like a slaughter-house! Foul play is suspected.”
ONE
J ohn Schmitt sat at Jack’s Coffee Shop, an all night joint off Winchester Avenue. He waited for the arrival of, Bud Carlson his partner for the past sixteen years and Bud was late as usual. It was 11:47 in the evening on a blustery night. The men had chosen this shift simply out of interest. As dumb as it sounds interest in their job still drove these North side detectives. Tonight would etch itself on the minds of both, Carlson’s lateness was for a good reason.
Outside the cool, wet March air hovered over Jack’s as a nasty wind stirred up all kinds of debris. There was a McDonald’s bag spinning in circles while caught in a corner where two brick-front buildings came together, then came a Dunkin Donuts wrapper and damp leafs left over from a long winter dancing wildly on invisible currents of air. Mist mixed with fine snow granules lent an oddness to the scene playing itself out across the street where an oriental man stood outside Kamama’s Resturant doing Tai Chi, yes, misting like hell with all sorts of crap spinning about him but there he stood doing some movement that required him to hold one leg airborne while his hands moved artistically through the air. What the hell, Schmitt thought, it’s freaking Chicago!
Suzie had only moments ago come into work. She went unseen by Schmitt who’d chosen to watch fascinated as the oriental man pirouetted on one foot all the while with a look of pure concentration on his face as he gazed dreamily into the night sky. When Suzie silently approached and laid her hand on his shoulder, Schmitt startled back to reality, practically jumped from his window booth.
“Holy shit Suzie,” he said, grabbing his chest! “You scared the living shit out of me!”
A few seconds later the front door whooshed open to the entrance of Bud Carlson whose trench coat lapped at then licked his knees in a violent torrent to include the Dunkin-Donuts wrapper that only a moment ago danced by the window.
She laughed, holding her hand over her mouth before finally managing, “God, I am so sorry John.” She said it apologetically and with a pronounced smirk.
Schmitt reached up and gently took her by the arm, “Damn girl,” his breath came in heavy spurts as Bud approached the two. “I was watching that guy over..”
“Hey, what’d I miss?” Said Bud Carlson who’d come in with a shuddering door and leaves bobbing about his person. First, shaking out his coat he slid his heavy body into the booth. “Damn, its cold out there!”
“You see the guy across the street,” Schmitt thumbed toward the man doing Tai Chi while Suzie stood to one side holding back a giggle. He’d ignored Bud’s remark about the cold, hell yes it was cold, it was Chicago and near the end of March.
“Yeah, noticed him on my way in but what the hell’s he doing.” Carlson asked brushing fingers thru his graying hair.
“Tai..” But Suzie cut-off John.
“Tai Chi,” she said it in an authoritative manner.
“Tai Chi, eh?” Carlson shrugged then squinted across the street, “Heard of it but didn’t know ya did that shit in the wind, rain and snow. I’ll be a sum-bitch!” He slid closer to the window so as to watch.
“At least one person on the North side does it in the wind and rain,” Suzie glanced at Bud. “Look, I’m going to grab you guy’s some coffee and a couple menu’s. And, when I come back I promise not to sneak up on you John,” Suzie smiled then flirtatiously brushed Schmitt’s shoulder with her fingertips before walking away.
“Oh, now wasn’t that special,” said Carlson who didn’t miss a thing. “She likes you, can you imagine that?” He expressed his indifference by raising his shoulders then. “God, someone actually likes you,” he said in an amused way.
“What the hell Bud!” Schmitt snickered under his breath, “Give us a break. Hell, I like her too.” Then, as if by second thought, “Where the hell were you anyway?”
“She’s a nice lookin lady, specially for an old bald guy like you,” They laughed, “Anyway’s, you ain’t gonna believe this, man.” He paused to thank Suzie who’d dropped off a couple menu’s along with two cups of very hot coffee. For a second he watched steam curl from the cup then dissipate, took up a spoon, raised and as quickly set it down. “Loreli Miller,” he said in a low, barely audible tone.
“Lore.. who..?” Schmitt took a sip from his coffee with a confused expression. He cringed when the hot liquid seared his lips. “Ouch, damn that shit is hot!”
“Loreli,” Bud rolled his eyes, “Friggin Miller, man!”
“What about her?” A lightbulb went off and Johns eyes suddenly shown recognition. “She’s Thomas Cowen’s girlfriend, how’s she doing, man?”
“She don’t have ta worry bout Cowen’s no more, she’s dead man.”
“Dead, how,” asked John, in a tone blustery as the outside weather?
“A header from the tenth floor of Northshore Towers where the woman lived.”
“Header, you mean she committed suicide.” Schmitt’s brow furrowed. “That seems a bit odd,” as he thought about the chestnut haired vixon who’d fallen in love with his old sailing buddy.
“I didn’t say it was suicide,” said Bud, looking straight into his partners eyes.
“No sir, I guess you did not.”
Silence passed between the two men when Suzie returned. “Oh my, suddenly we’ve got some long faces.” She stood there, took an order book from her apron and a pencil from her ear. “What’s it gonna be this morning fellas,” she ask more to break the pairs obvious discomfort. “Don’t tell me, two over easy for you Bud with no toast..”
“Have a seat Suzie,” John then scooted over, patting the cool vinyl to allow her to sit next to him.
“Why thank you,” she said with a quick look around the vacant restaurant. “