Maxwell Marlowe, Private Eye. 'The Case of the Missing Heiress'

By Raymond Boyd Dunn

The first book in the Maxwell Marlowe, Private Eye Series...Max is puzzled. Nothing about this case seems to make sense. Is the heiress really in danger? Who are the scantily clad people in the beach photos? Max is a Private Detective and solves 'the case of the missing heiress.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Raymond Boyd Dunn
• Release date: Feb 23, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466173507

Raymond Boyd Dunn

Raymond Boyd Dunn is a "born and bred" third generation Australian. After his retirement Raymond Boyd became a grey nomad, and, with his wife, spent some time touring this vast country of Australia. He was born in the small Burnett Valley town of Monto, Queensland, and for his entire life has answered to the name of 'Boyd'. Apart from his travels he has lived all of his life in Queensland, and after satisfying his thirst for seeing first hand this wonderful country we live in, settled on the Sunshine Coast to spend his remaining years in the sunshine near the beach.He commenced his working life as a Bank Officer and resigned after thirteen years to become self-employed. At various stages he has owned a Corner Store, a small Supermarket Chain, a Butchery, a Milk Run, a Printery and a Cattle and Grain Farm. He has been involved, in various capacities, in Cricket and Tennis Clubs; Jaycees, Lions and Rotary Clubs and Aero Clubs. He was a Cricketer, played tennis, tried to play golf, and was a keen long distance runner.Upon taking a well-earned retirement he wrote his unpublished autobiography, which was for distribution among his family of six children and numerous grand-children. A visit to Cooktown, where he learnt of the Palmer River Gold Rush, was the incentive to keep writing and produce his first novel 'Palmer Gold' He then settled down to write novels, producing two more books to complete a Trilogy...'An Australian Ranch' and "Carly and Sam...Will and Effie'. There followed numerous short stories, and other novels: 'Lord of the Manor in Australia', and 'The Vintage Years'. He continues to write whilst enjoying life in the sunshine on the beautiful Sunshine Coast in Queensland.

Book preview

Maxwell Marlowe

Private Eye

The Case of the Missing Heiress.

By Raymond Boyd Dunn

Copyright 2012 Raymond Dunn

Smashwords Edition

Chapter 1

It was such a glorious morning - even though it was Monday! The sun shining through the window lit up the bedroom with a glow which seemed to be laden with promise. How could any thing possibly go wrong to spoil what promised to be a beautiful sunny day? It was one of those mornings when it seemed that nothing was impossible - no task in-surmountable; when the urge was to spring out of bed, flex the weary muscles now rejuvenated by the mandatory eight hour's sleep, pull on the tattered old track suit, and pound the concrete pathways which abounded in this part of the Sunshine Coast. I managed to resist the urge, and pulled the pillow down over my head.

The previous day I had taken part in the Asics half marathon in Surfers' Paradise. I didn't win it! Not even for my men's age group which was for the 30 - 34 year olds. I came in among the first half of the total field, with a time of 1.54.04 for the 21.1 kilometres, which was slightly better than the average for my age group. It was nowhere near my personal best for the distance, but I have a good excuse (or should I say 'reason'?). I had been deluged with work during the previous month, with the result I failed to put in the hours pounding the pavements in preparation for the event,

Eight thousand nine hundred men and women, boys and girls, took part in the Half Marathon event, and left the starting area at the Broadwater Parklands. The more hopeful crowded to the front, with the most favoured in the front line. The rest of us took up our positions further back in the multitude of runners - some of whom became walkers before the finish; some nine hundred not finishing at all. It was so crowded back where I took up a position, that it was impossible to run for most of the first half-kilometre or so. Those who over-estimated their ability, and started too far towards the front, were holding up those behind them. It even took me a full minute or so to reach the starting line, where the timing device tied to my shoe kicked in and began to record my official time, and I set the stopwatch on my wrist.

Once I found some room, I began to jog, and as the field began to spread a little, I was able to run. I felt really good. I hadn't done much running in the previous month, as I said earlier, and I was surprised to find that I was running easily, and began to pass the slower runners who had started before me. At the 5km mark I was still going well, and began to think that I might even do a PB on this run. I had ignored the first few water stations because of the congestion. There were too many runners not dedicated enough to grab one of the cardboard cups without stopping, and drink on the run, before pelting the empty cup to the side of the road. Even a few seconds wasted, by stopping for a drink, could lose you a few places at the finish. At this stage I was still feeling competitive.

The route followed the roadway along the beachfront of The Broadwater, as far as the Sovereign Island turnoff, and back to the starting point, which then became the finishing line. It is quite disturbing to us mere mortals, when we still have two or three kilometres to go before reaching half way, to have the leaders pass us, already heading back towards the finish line.

As I approached the half-way point and turn-around in Paradise Point, I was beginning to feel the unaccustomed lack of fitness; I lost my rhythm, and began to slow down. I usually keep myself very fit. For years I attended Aerobics classes at a gym in Currimundi, and sometimes worked out on their exercise equipment. I have always loved running. It must be in the genes, because my father and grandfather were also keen long distance runners.

There were pounding feet all around me, and I heard some that seemed to be dogging my footsteps. Shortly, the owner of the pounding feet behind me appeared at my shoulder.

What's the matter, Phil? Slowing down in your old age? he puffed.

Phil is not my name, but people who know me well insist on calling me that. You see, I'm a Private Investigator, and my name being Maxwell Marlowe, it is only natural that my friends would call me 'Phil', short for Raymond Chandler's 'Philip Marlowe, Private Eye.'

G'day, Stumpy! I gasped in reply. Stumpy is a friend, a carpenter, who also hails from the Sunshine Coast, where I live and work. He is over six feet tall and as thin as a whip-stick - hence, in typical Aussie fashion, he has been given the sobriquet of Stumpy! I was going pretty well a couple of klicks back. Now I'm beginning to wonder if I'll even finish.

Of course you'll finish. Run with me for a while. I'm starting to get my second wind, so you might too.

I could not have run in step with him if he had maintained his normal stride, which is a little longer than mine. He had shortened it slightly when he drew alongside, in order to stay level with me. They say, and I believe it's true, that the mind, as well as fitness, plays a big part in long distance running. Before Stumpy joined me, when tiredness began to make itself felt, I began to dwell on my perceived lack of fitness caused by the laxity of my training in the previous weeks. This in turn made me feel more tired.

Running step for step with Stumpy, I began to feel my rhythm coming back, and by the time we made the turn-around I was running freely once again. I checked my wristwatch to find my time at the half-way mark was about fifty-eight minutes and some seconds.