Remember You Must Die

Marc D. Hasbrouck

Description

An intriguing, fast-paced thriller involving deadly chance-meetings and coincidences…being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Told with a dash of humor and a hint of romance.
1953: On a trans-Atlantic flight from London to New York City, Devon Stone, best-selling author of murder mysteries, strikes up a friendly chat with a fellow passenger in first-class. A murder in a Manhattan hotel later that evening connects Devon to the victim.
Out of idle curiosity, Billy Bennett, Veronica Barron, and Peyton Chase, friends of Devon Stone, get themselves embroiled in nefarious doings involving the murder.
A soldier who was involved in a highly classified operation during World War II has been missing for seven years and is now drawn into the plot.
An old oil painting with contentious beginnings (and meanings) brings the story into sharper focus.
Along with deceit, truths, lies, chance meetings, happenstance, humor, and a hint of romance we will also discover that one murder wasn’t enough.

Sujets

• Thrillers
• Nueva York
• Segunda Guerra Mundial
• New York City
• Deception
• World War II
• Deceit
• Murder
• Artwork
• Fiction
• 1953
• Seconde Guerre mondiale
• New York

Informations

• Publié par: iUniverse
• Date de parution: 25 août 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781663243676
• Langue: English

Extrait

Other Books By Marc D. Hasbrouck
MURDER ON THE STREET OF YEARS
DOWN WITH THE SUN
STABLE AFFAIRS
HORSE SCENTS
REMEMBER YOU MUST DIE
Marc D. Hasbrouck


REMEMBER YOU MUST DIE
 
 
Copyright © 2022 Marc D. Hasbrouck.
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
Certain characters in this work are historical figures, and certain events portrayed did take place. However, this is a work of fiction. All of the other characters, names, and events as well as all places, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
 
 
 
 
iUniverse
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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
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.
 
Author’s Photo Credit: Gaylin E. Hasbrouck
 
ISBN: 978-1-6632-4368-3 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6632-4367-6 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022915607
 
 
 
iUniverse rev. date: 08/19/2022
Contents
A Brief Word From The Author
Part 1: Fasten Your Seatbelts
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Part 2: A Ghost Story
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Epilogue
Author’s Notes
Acknowledgements

                Vita brevis breviter in brevi finietur ,
                Mors venit velociter quae neminem veretur ,
                Omnia mors perimit et nulli miseretur.
                Ad mortem festinamus peccare desistamus.
                Life is short, and shortly it will end;
                Death comes quickly and respects no one,
                Death destroys everything and takes pity on no one.
                To death we are hastening, let us refrain from sinning.
From the virelai ad mortem festinamus
of the Llibre Vermell de Montserrat , 1399
A Brief Word from the Author
I had so much fun creating and writing about the fictitious London-based author Devon Stone in my previous book, Murder On The Street Of Years , that I decided to pay him and some of his friends a return visit. Along with Devon, we find that Veronica Barron, Billy Bennett, and Peyton Chase get themselves wrapped up in another perilous tale and soon discover that murder is an art. Murder On The Street Of Years dealt with the hatred remaining following World War II and some of its ramifications. All the murders within that book were revenge murders, justified or otherwise. That decision of justification I shall leave to my readers.
As if it were written during the mid-1950s, I have approached the storyline in this book from a different angle. A highly classified mission during World War II is a mere bit player, playing a supporting role in this drama…but a pivotal one. This is a story about coincidences, happenstance, and serendipity, if you will. What happens with chance encounters and their consequences have always intrigued me. Being in the wrong place at the right time, or being in the right place at the wrong time. Or being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I take this theme to the extreme here. Some people might think that there are no such things as coincidences. Everything happens for a reason. Perhaps. Again, I leave that for my readers to decide.
But in this case, happenstance just happens to lead to murder. Several of them.
And, as in my previous book, Devon Stone’s hyperthymesia comes into play within the following pages. This syndrome is a very real one and was only diagnosed as recently as 2006. The actress Marilu Henner is one of only twelve people currently worldwide who have been diagnosed with it. It is also known as Superior Autobiographical Memory.
There will be factual historical information relating to my story at the end of this book in the Author’s Notes. Aside from learning a little tidbit about World War II, you might be surprised to learn about a section of New York City with a tragic and deadly history.
I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Let’s begin!
PART ONE
FASTEN YOUR SEATBELTS
“Flying might not be all plain sailing, but the fun of it is worth the price.”
AMELIA EARHART
Prologue
June 2, 1953
The Contract Expires
“Don’t come any closer,” she said, almost trembling.
As he made a step toward her, she raised the pistol. That action made no difference. He smiled and took another step. He couldn’t ever imagine that she would actually shoot him.
He was mistaken.
He reached out toward her and she fired. She watched in horror as the red blotch grew on his chest, oozing through his thin shirt. He staggered, shocked, backward out the open door. The railing to the balcony behind him didn’t stop his movement. He couldn’t stop the momentum and he disappeared over it, falling the three flights to the floor of the lobby below where his skull cracked open, splattering blood and brain matter.
She ran to the railing, looked down, and saw him lying there, contorted, motionless on the white marble floor surrounded by a widening pool of blood. Not believing that she had really and truly shot him, still brandishing her gun she blindly ran down the spiraling steps of the four-sided stairwell stopping only when she breathlessly reached the last step. She burst through the door into the lobby and stood there in shock and confusion.
A gun was pointed squarely at her chest.
1
Two Months Earlier
Following the announcement by the stewardess, Devon Stone brought his seat back to the full upright position and made sure his seatbelt was securely fastened. He glanced out of his first-class window as the BOAC Lockheed Constellation made a wide circle making its final descent into Idlewild Airport in New York. In the distance he saw the lights of the Manhattan skyscrapers start to come on and twinkle in the early spring evening. Despite the comfort of first-class, and several walks up and down the aisle over the past few hours, Devon was eager to stretch his six-foot, two frame. Upon takeoff from London, he had been pleasantly surprised when he realized that the seat next to him would remain empty for the flight. He had been even more surprised when he saw that there were only five other passengers in first-class. Three men and two women.
Less than one hour after their departure from London nearly half a day earlier, a fellow passenger in the first-class cabin made a discovery. She was reading the latest murder mystery from her favorite author. The Fallen was a somewhat vivid and, at times, violent story about revenge. She didn’t necessarily buy into revenge as a justifiable reason for murder. She closed the book and turned it over in her lap. She glanced at the full color photograph of the very handsome Devon Stone on the back cover and gasped. She turned to look at that very same gentleman sitting across the aisle from her just as the stewardess was handing him a gin and tonic. He raised the glass as in silent toast, winked at the stewardess, and sensed that he was being watched. He turned and caught the eye of the reader across the aisle.
He glanced at the book that was still overturned on her lap. He raised his glass once again and winked at her.
“Are you flirting with me, young man?” chuckled the woman. She was only slightly overweight, dressed in the latest of fashions, and probably no younger than seventy.
“I was just admiring your reading material,” answered Devon Stone. “Shocking, isn’t it?” he laughed.
“Well,” she replied, “I am a bit shocked, honestly, by the murders for revenge. Goes against my nature. I’m assuming it must go against yours as well. But, as the author, you write what sells, don’t you?” as she winked right back at him.
Devon Stone chuckled to himself. One must never assume.
“Please excuse my brazenness, Mr. Stone,” she said as she stretched her hand across the aisle, “I’m Brenda Barratt. I guess I wasn’t paying attention when I boarded and I never even noticed you sitting there. I do need new glasses, though. Can hardly see anything more than five feet in front of me. Well, that’s a slight exaggeration. But only slight. It never dawned on me that I’d have such an esteemed author practically in my lap, so to speak.”
Devon Stone shook her hand and hers was a firm handshake at that. “A pleasure to meet yo