Stone Cold

By Ruby Binns-Cagney

Not suitable for children due to graphic scenes of violence.

One man's need to kill is another man's cross to bear.

Consultant Psychiatrist Everett Stone sits in his office in downtown New York with his life in his hands.
One client strikes a raw nerve which sets into motion the gradual unraveling of his psyche in the pursuit of blood.
One ill-timed decision and its all over for him.

Three homicides take place in three affluent areas of New York City but Detective Finkel Macaulay has her hands full with a Caribbean murder mystery while on vacation with her husband, FBI Special Agent Nick Benson.
When their world's collide, they join forces to take apart the island in search of the crime Lords.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BinnsCagneyPublishing Co
• Release date: Oct 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311291622

Ruby Binns-Cagney

Keep in touch - sign up for new releases and save on publication day:http://books2read.com/author/ruby-binns-cagney/subscribe/1/41373/Ruby Binns-Cagney is a successful independently published Author who writes women's fiction (chick-lit) and American-based crime thrillers.Ruby's 'Detective Macaulay' crime series has a following on Twitter https://www.twitter.com/detmacaulay (@DetMacaulay)Ruby has a website and blog - read more details of her publishing services.Through her publishing company - BinnsCagneyPublishing Co - Ruby empowers others to become self-published Authors, and her Team also mentor new Authors.Free Marketing Help Signup:http://eepurl.com/3IsJPAdd her to your Google+ Circles https://plus.google.com/+RubyBinnsCagney/postsPlease visit her website:http://author-tales-of-self-publishing-books.blogspot.co.uk

Book preview

Stone Cold

A Detective Macaulay Homicide Case

Ruby Binns-Cagney

Copyright © 2013 Ruby Binns-Cagney

All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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 recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Ruby Binns-Cagney has asserted her right under the Copyright Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The names and characters are the products of the Author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2013 Cover Image BinnsCagneyDesign Co

Copyright © 2013 Ruby Binns-Cagney

.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

About The Author

1

Everett Stone sat on a park bench in Washington Square Park, New York City. He bent down and pulled the brown paper bag from underneath the bench, where it had been secured with duct tape. He slipped the package into his jacket pocket, left the park, and walked briskly in the direction of a thicket of trees by the stone-walled path.

He checked the path ahead of him. Several sweaty joggers passed by him and he held his breath. Did not want to inhale their stench. He walked further towards the school. He would be there soon. The weight of the package thumped up against his thigh. He could feel the coldness of the steel within and it comforted him.

She was there. By the side of the lake he saw the parked car. The passengers in the vehicle said their goodbyes. The Mom fussed over the child while she struggled to get away from her, and opened the car door in a bid to escape her cloying grasp. The Mom watched the child walk into the school, and turn to wave. The expression of evident discomfort on the child's face as she did so served to rankle the Mom.

Everett walked up to the driver's side of the parked vehicle and handed a hundred dollar bill to the Mom.

I found this on the ground here. You must have dropped it. He slipped the bill into her hand while she looked up at him.

No, I don't think I did, Officer, she said, and looked at the NYPD Officer’s uniform Everett wore, and then at the bill in her hands. That was all it took. Everett raised his weapon quickly, and shot her at close range. Pop-pop.

Two bullets into the side of her head. She fell forward onto the steering wheel. He pushed her backwards and secured the seat belt more firmly to ensure she remained seated upright. He looked on the seat next to her and saw her purse. He gutted it and threw it back onto the floor of the vehicle, under the passenger seat.

He looked around the street to make sure he wasn't being watched. He wasn't. He walked away, removed the silencer from the weapon and pocketed it separately. Took off his black leather gloves and shoved them down into the pockets of his pants.

It was July. His hands felt hot and sticky, and he wiped them on his pants. Turned east towards the street and the newspaper vendor's store.

Beautiful day, Officer, the Korean storekeeper Sam said when Everett walked in to buy cigarettes and slapped two packets of gum down with his big black hands.

Not so you would notice. There's humidity, rather than actual sunshine, which would have truly made it a beautiful day. Everett slapped down a twenty dollar bill on the counter, and Sam made change. He put the gold packet of Marlboros onto the counter with Everett's change. He picked up the change and put it in his back pocket. Opened the pack of cigarettes and pulled one out, stuck it into his gaping maw, and fished out his Zippo lighter. Silver, with a red dragon emblazoned on it. Heard the tall flame crackle along the tip of the cigarette and ignite it.

Those will kill you, you know, Sam said, as Everett's bulk stood in the doorway and he inhaled. Blew rings of smoke above his smoothly shaven black head. Sam stared the triptych tattooed around Everett's neck. The Last Supper.

Got to die of something. Right? Everett said and waved his goodbye. He strolled towards his apartment building in Astor Place.

He liked the architecture in Manhattan. Had he not enlisted into the United States Marine Corps, he would like to have been an architect.

He took the stone steps up to the apartment block's door two at a time and put his key in the lock. The glass door clicked closed behind him, and he took the short series of stairs up to his apartment on the third floor. He was in time.

He poured himself a large cup of coffee as its glass jug simmered, and opened the curtains. Pushed the sliding window upwards and propped it open with a dictionary. The rope which counter-balanced the weight of the window when opened had broken some time earlier. He couldn't argue with the Building Supervisor any longer to get it fixed. It was too exhausting. He put his navy blue shirt into the hamper in the bathroom and got a clean shirt out of the closet.

The door's buzzer startled him and he looked at the computer's clock on his desk in the corner. It was game time. He opened the door and stood to one side. Looked down at a squat fat man in an ill-fitting suit.

Hector Rivers. We spoke on the phone last night? His breath smelt rank.

Yes, come on in Hector. I'm Doctor Stone. Everett stood to one side while Hector passed by him and went into the room. Hector was dark haired and his skin looked greasy. He took off his coat and slung it on the back of the armchair and lay down on the couch. He balanced his trilby hat on his knees. Everett stifled his bemusement and sat in the armchair opposite him.

Is this alright? Hector said, and noted Everett's facial expression while he opened his notepad.

Perfectly fine if you want to lay down. It's not going be any more expensive if you do so. Hector seemed to relax and repositioned himself on the couch while Everett sketched.

Thank you, Doctor. Hector crossed his legs at his ankles and rested his hands on his lap.

Just relax, and tell me what's bothering you, Everett said.

I think I'm being followed. Everett drew a sketch of a hangman's noose on his notepad. He had an eidetic memory. Perfect recall, and didn't require session notes. Sketching gave his brain something else to do.

What makes you so certain? he said.

I can feel it. I'm being watched.

When did this first occur to you, this feeling of being watched?

About three weeks ago.

And is it all the time?

Yes. Even when I'm with my wife. Everett sharpened his pencil and carefully wiped the shavings off his notepad.

What does your wife say about it?

She says I'm paranoid. That's partly why I'm here. Paranoid. Great. Self-diagnosis?

Is your wife a psychiatrist too? I could lose you to her as a patient. Everett couldn't resist making the joke. It served to relax Hector a little.

Not at all. She just likes to read a lot. Seriously, Doctor, I think I'm losing my mind. Hector craned his neck to look over at Everett, who was seated in the chair slightly to Hector's left.

Let me be the judge of that, Everett said, and filled in the hangman's noose on his notepad