The New Moon Murders

By R K Athey

January, 1930 - Chicago

Something evil stalks the streets performing human sacrifices every new moon.

The police are baffled. High society wants it covered up. The mob wants the murder weapon.

Fearing the involvement of a long time parishioner, aging priest Father Burke turns to a man he once thought possessed.

Private detective Thomas Gunn, tormented by visions he cannot control, takes the case only to discover that staring down the business end of a Tommy gun is nothing compared to stopping an ancient evil bent on world destruction.

In the tradition of H. P. Lovecraft and Dashel Hammitt, The New Moon Murders is a classic hard-boiled detective story fused with the elements of star-spanning horror.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R K Athey
• Release date: Oct 26, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465924322

R K Athey

Keith Athey is a father and husband living in the Austin, Texas. By day, he's an Enterprise Architect. At night, he dons his computer glasses and types well into the night telling tales of horror and adventure. Mr. Athey is active in the gaming industry, writing reviews and serving as the marketing manager for the open source gaming products found on rptools.net.

Book preview

The New Moon Murders

A Thomas Gunn Detective Story

by

R. K. Athey

Copyright 2010 R. K. Athey

Smashwords Edition

License Statement

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

DEDICATION

This work is dedicated to my son Zachary, who continually tells me I’m the best dad in the world, and my loving wife Debbie, who tolerates my hobbies. Thanks for understanding my need to create.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I’d like to thank my friends who patiently read, reread, and read again my work providing suggestions and criticism. In particular, I’d like to thank Matt Jackson, Derek Brown, John Day and Charles Tarrant for their input and encouragement. I can honestly say this would not have happened without you.

Special thanks to Matt Jackson for the cover art.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

About R. K. Athey

Connect with R. K. Athey

A Request

Chapter 1

Chicago lived up to its nickname as the Arctic gods blew icy gusts over Lake Michigan into the man-made canyons of the Windy City. Bits of ice and snow shot through the air, biting into the exposed flesh of anyone foolhardy or desperate enough to be outside in mid-January. Model Ts and canvas-covered freight trucks rocked with each gust as their drivers fought snow-packed roads.

Private Detective Thomas Gunn wondered why he was one of the fools caught outside on a day like this. The wind stung his face under the fedora clamped tightly to his head while his trench coat whipped about in the wind. Father Michaleen Burke walked next to him, wheezing a bit with each step. The old priest’s wrinkled face and balding head seemed invulnerable to the cold but his old blue eyes squinted from behind large bifocals with each gust.

Gunn stopped at a street corner, waiting while a moving truck clattered past. Municipal snow plows’ early-morning efforts buried an entire street of cars under dunes of snow, but the vindictive wind blew small blizzards back into the streets and sidewalks.

The old priest grabbed Gunn’s arm to slow the detective’s pace. Visions of a red-haired woman filled Gunn’s mind. Her eyes were swollen with tears. The detective pulled his fedora down as if to hold out the cold. The vision cleared.

Hold a minute, son, Father Burke said releasing Gunn’s arm as he pulled out a hip flask taking a quick nip to hold out the cold. You walk too fast for my old legs to keep up.

My apologies, Father. I sometimes forget you’ve aged a bit since being my boxing coach at St. Thomas. Gunn held out his arm to assist Father Burke across the street, bracing himself for the visions that came with physical contact.

Burke slapped Gunn’s arm away. I’m not that old, Thomas, Burke said as he stepped off the curb past the snow-covered cars.

The old priest made it partway into the street then turned back to say something to Gunn. A black Buick slammed into Burke rolling the old priest under the car. The driver slammed on the brakes skidding to a halt. The priest lay there with a shocked look on his face. His eyes were wide as his mouth moved silently filling with blood.

Gunn shook off the vision as Father Burke stepped into the street. Some called it his Gift. He called it his curse. Thomas Gunn could see into the future but only if it was a horrible future. He also saw into the past but only those events that caused anger and pain. The stronger the emotion, the more vivid the image. He lived life seeing tragedies that were and those that might be. Physical contact was almost always required and so he spent his days to himself with as little physical interaction as possible.

Father, NO! Gunn yelled grabbing his old teacher by the shoulder and pulling him backward. A black Buick sped through the intersection missing Burke by inches. The driver finished lighting a cigar and drove on, unaware of what might have been.

Thank you, Thomas. That would have been a nasty way to start the day.

You might want to get some new cheaters, Father. Those don’t seem to work so well.

My glasses are fine, Thomas. It’s Chicago drivers that need fixing.

The wind subsided as they turned down South Homan Street. Cars lined the streets on either side of the upscale neighborhood.

The Fuchs live a few blocks down. If Eric’s at home, we say a few niceties, invite them to Mass, and leave.

You brought me here to figure out if Eric is involved in the New Moon Murders, Father. I don’t see any point in avoiding the man.

I must confess to an ulterior motive. I hope you can tell me something about his wife, Mary Kate.

Do you think she’s involved, Father?

I certainly hope not. She’s a good woman.

You’d be surprised what ‘good’ people will do, Father. I’ve arrested plenty of community pillars when I was a cop. Why are you concerned about the wife?

A year ago, Mary Kate told me her husband became obsessed with the occult. He turned his bookstore into an antiquities shop specializing in ancient rituals. The store prospered but he was never home. He became cold and distant. I tried to help but Eric stopped attending Mass and avoided me when I came to visit. Then, after years of being childless, Mary Kate became pregnant. She was so happy, Thomas. We both thought Eric would return to the good man we knew but it had the opposite effect: he grew more distant.

They need a marriage counselor, not a detective, Gunn said.

It gets worse, Thomas, much worse. Mary Kate’s father was murdered, and on that night, she fell down the stairs of the Fuchs’ new home. It killed the baby within her and left her paralyzed below the waist. The doctors can’t find anything wrong but she cannot walk or feel anything in her legs. She’s fading, Thomas. If we can’t find a way to help her, I fear she’ll die of sadness.

You still haven’t gotten to the part where you need a detective.

Father Burke began to speak then paused. What I hope is that your Gift can give us some clue as to how to help Mary Kate.

Thomas Gunn stopped midstride. You asked me to help solve a murder, Father.

And I suspect you will, son. You’re a fine detective, one of the best in the city.

You didn’t say anything about a Reading. You know better than to ask.

Your Gift is part of you, Thomas. I wouldn’t ask a pigeon to deliver a message without flying. I don’t expect you to solve a case without your Gift.

Gift, Gunn spat.

You may hate your ability, yet I suspect it just saved my life. Your visions are a Gift from God, Thomas. Don’t ever forget that.

You’d be more convincing if you hadn’t performed an exorcism on me when I was fifteen.

"Thomas, that was fifteen years ago and you know that