Hard Press'd

By Linda Rae Blair

2ND EDITION AVAILABLE HERE AS OF 07/30/2012
Preston Andrews, Senior Homicide Detective for the Virginia Beach Police Department, is tall, dark and handsome--and wealthy beyond belief.

The son of U.S. Senator William Andrews and his lovely wife, Rosemary, lives in the mansion he'd bought from his parents a few years ago. He'd grown up in the Virginia Beach "summer home" of his parents and loves it more than anyplace he's ever been.

Along with the house came the skinny, prim and proper Lizzie, their housekeeper for the last 30 years of his life--and second mother to the two children of the Andrews family.

The third part of the acquisition was ex-Marine, Special Ops, ex-bodyguard to the family and long-time friend, Palmer. Now days Palmer spends his time acting as butler, driver and dog sitter for the 180 pound Mastiff--and God alone knew what other huge species--named Jones.

Jones had just failed his 4th attempt at obedience training. He wasn't a threat to anyone--at least those who knew him recognized this. But, there were the pesky habits of greeting people at the door by putting his catcher mitt sized paws on their shoulders and slurping their faces with a tongue the size of a hand towel, said linen commonly requested afterwards.

Press, as his friends call him, also has a sister--his "baby" sister, as he insists of thinking of her. She is upset with him when we meet her. He deserves it and he knows it. She is currently punishing him for his last act of brotherly love, which caused her some embarrassment in front of her peers.

When we meet Preston, his personal life--a mess, his professional life--with several definite challenges at present, and murder collide.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Linda Rae Blair
• Release date: Dec 4, 2010
• ISBN: 9781453743706

Linda Rae Blair

Raleigh artist, Linda Rae Blair was born and raised in St. Louis, Missouri. She has used her knowledge gained during extensive travel throughout the United States and her passion for art, history, mysteries, and scenery to create compact novels with rich characters so real you'll miss them when they're gone and places you'll swear you've been. She has lived in Seattle, WA, Monterey Bay, CA, Cincinnati, OH, and retired five years ago in the Raleigh, NC area.Her love of history is well-earned. She is a direct descendant of John Alden and Priscilla Mullins of Mayflower fame. She is also descended from a strong line of Scots-Irish immigrants to America in the 1700s. She even had a great uncle who was robbed by the infamous outlaw Belle Starr.Her Scottish love story, “Elusive”, spans 200 years of Scottish history and intrigue via setting in 1700s Scotland and early 1900s Paris and Scotland.An avid reader who inhales novels by Nora Roberts, Sandra Brown and others in the romance/mystery genres, her imagination takes you to a variety of places and times all in the same story.Her travels to the beautiful southwestern states inspired her more modern historic romance combined with mystery, “100 Years of Brotherly Love”.Her mystery series, The Preston Andrews Mysteries now has 12 published entries, beginning with “Hard Press’d” which now claims over 50,000 downloads and, most recently, the softcover print version of the series in compilation form.Ms. Blair has spent many happy hours in Virginia Beach during off-season, when the winds blow cold and hard and the salty air whips at the weather-protected palms. This is the locale chosen for her Preston Andrews series. Locals and visitors alike find many familiar frames of reference in this series.Her homage to her love for Poirot is via her teeny tiny mystery, “The Board Game Murders”.Her newest series is aimed at a slightly younger and more female audience from that of The Preston Andrews series but begins in the backstory in “Pressing Reunion”.The Samantha Hartley, PI series is lighter and features a very young and not terribly experienced private investigator just beginning her career—with a slight assist from the Director of the FBI.One thing is for certain, she combines her passions into stories interesting to history buffs, travelers, and lovers of romance and mystery.

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HARD PRESS’D

LINDA RAE BLAIR

FRANKLINTON, NC

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The characters, names, and events as well as all places, incidents, organizations, and dialog in this novel are either the products of the writer’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Copyright 2010 Linda Rae Blair

All rights reserved.

,ISBN: 1453743707

EAN-13: 9781453743706

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Acknowledgments

Again, I must thank retired Sergeant Tom Waller of the Cincinnati Police Force who provided some much-appreciated information that made my murder details and my ‘cop’ information more accurate.

Another expert in law enforcement to whom I owe my thanks is Margaret R. Sullivan, Records Manager and Archivist for the Boston Police Department.

Any errors in the use of information provided by either of these are entirely mine!

To Sherry and Lou Ann at my favorite Starbucks, thank you for your unfailing support and many ideas—rational or otherwise! Kidding, ladies—but you knew that, right?

Enjoy!

To those wise enough to recognize their mistakes and learn from them.

1

Virginia Beach

April 12, 2010

11:30 PM

I don’t know what to do, she cried. Everything’s such a mess!

Tears streamed down her beautiful face—the face that had made more than one man pursue her. How could anyone avoid the attraction of that face? Now that pert little nose of hers had taken her where it didn’t belong and created a problem that needed fixing. Well, there was no way around it. She’d have to die.

It’s going to take me awhile to break free. Meet me at Jewish Mother’s in the parking lot. I can be there in about an hour. Don’t give up on me if I’m a little late, the voice told her.

I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten you involved. I just didn’t know where else to turn. She was sobbing now—the pert nose now red and swollen, her expertly applied make-up deposited on the lacy handkerchief she’d received during the holidays.

Don’t worry, sweetheart! We’ll get it figured out," the well-controlled voice promised. If the girl had known the emotion beneath it, she would have run screaming.

Stay calm. We’ll figure it out. I have a few things to finish up here before I can leave. Go to Jewish Mother’s and wait in the parking lot. Stay out of sight and wait for me. I’m on my way as soon as possible. I love you!

I love you, too, she said, as she hung up her cell phone and headed for her car. So much for what she’d thought would be a romantic evening with the man she loved. She certainly wasn’t feeling romantic right now.

By the time she got to the restaurant, the side streets were nearly deserted. She parked in a dark corner of the lot, poorly lit at the best of times but seeming eerily dark tonight. She rubbed her arms as the damp ocean air seeped into the car while she waited. Spring had come to Virginia Beach, but the night air was still cool, blowing strongly off the ocean just blocks away.

Finally, the sound of approaching footsteps drew her attention. She climbed out of the luxurious car and hurried toward the person she’d been anxiously awaiting. The two greeted with a hug and a kiss. There were few people left that she would protect above all else—this was surely one of them. Everything in her life seemed to be off-kilter tonight but not this.

I’m so glad you’re here, she cried.

Calm down, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be alright.

She pulled back slightly, looked into those familiar eyes and felt somewhat calmer. I’m sorry. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m overreacting! How could anyone I know be involved in such a thing? She caught her breath. I must be wrong, don’t you think?

Let’s go talk it through and then we’ll decide what to do next. Have you told anyone else?

No. I was going to go to the police, but…I just couldn’t.

The strong arm reached around her shoulder and held her tightly. The kiss placed gently on her temple sent a small shudder down her arm. As they walked away from the lot to the sidewalk, she asked, Where are we going? I thought…

You don’t want to talk about this in such public place, do you?

Oh, of course not! I’m sorry. I don’t seem to be thinking very clearly tonight. She shuddered slightly and the arm wrapped around her shoulder tightened slightly in a warming embrace.

Not a problem, love. Now, tell me what you found out. Tell me everything.

A few minutes later, they stopped under the awning of one of the beach’s tourist traps. Across the street was a restaurant whose lights barely lit its own sidewalk. They certainly didn’t intrude onto the secretive pair’s side of the street. This was the perfect spot.

The arm holding her suddenly gripped much harder, practically lifting her off the ground. As the first shot ripped through her spine, the next tore through her brain. Gripped tightly by strong hands that gently laid her down, she didn’t even have time for the surprise of the attack to register on her beautiful face. Just moments before she had been saying that the police had to know right away.

Calmly and deliberately, the killer turned back around the nearest corner. Just a block away the quiet hybrid car was parked and waiting where no one near the girl’s body would see or hear the killer leave. Behind the dark tinted glass, there was plastic sheeting spread out over the front seats and floor. Latex gloves and a damp towel waited so the killer could remove any visible blood spatter from face and hands and would not contaminate the car.

The car started silently and moved away without lights until it reached the next corner and a safe escape.

2

Virginia Beach

Day 1

1:55 AM

When he awoke to the brain-drilling ring of his cell phone, he knew he’d had all the sleep he was going to get for the night. Every homicide cop knows the sign of a new body waiting for his attention. I’ll never understand why people wait until the middle of the night to get dead was his first conscious thought.

Andrews, he growled into the receiver as he, out of habit, tried to keep his voice low. Address? His brain was accustomed to having to remember details such as the fact that someone found a body and where it was located, even before he could recognize his own surroundings. Meet you there in about twenty minutes.

His drowsy brain reacted automatically. Then it slowly recalled that just weeks before, he would have risen carefully so the woman beside him could continue whatever sweet dream was putting a smile on her face. Awake, she hadn’t smiled often enough, in my opinion. Of course, that was as much my fault as hers—okay, more, he supposed.

The guilt he felt so often where she was concerned flooded his wakening brain. She was one of the kindest women he’d ever known—yet something vital had been missing in their relationship. That, too, was my fault, he sighed to himself.

As he shuffled across the thick carpet toward the master bath, he realized that, despite their problems, he missed her. No, he corrected himself—not her. What I really miss is having a partner in my life. I’d really wanted the real thing, and she hadn’t been it. Dear Lord, he thought, I sound like the latest issue of Cosmo—even to myself!

He quickly stripped off his pajama bottoms as he headed into the shower stall that could easily hold four people his size. This luxury had been one of two that he had insisted upon when he took over the family summer home as his permanent lodging.

The cool shower painfully forced his brain to full function. His mind seemed unable to settle on anything other than the woman. He had tried to find some way to extricate himself from a bad situation without hurting her. I really hadn’t wanted to hurt her.

She’d lost her apartment when the tropical storm had swept through her complex and leveled three of the four buildings. Before he’d known he was going to open his mouth, he’d found himself asking her to move in. It had been a mistake from the very beginning, and he’d known it almost immediately.

Well, I’ll never make that mistake again. At first, I’d told myself often that it was easier to allow myself to continue with the mistake than to speak my mind and suffer the anticipated feminine histrionics I’d talked myself into expecting.

Hell, that had been a very weak rationalization—she was a lovely woman and I thought…well, whatever the hell I thought. I was wrong—again! Preston Andrews was never one to shift blame to others—at least not for very long. He had made a mistake and he was fully willing to shoulder the results.

She would never be as hard on him as he was on himself. She was far too kind. That’s what made him feel the worst. He simply hadn’t loved her—not that way. He loved her like a dear friend—she wanted, needed, deserved better. Therefore, the arrangement had come to an end two weeks ago.

Lord, my fellow detectives would laugh their asses off if they only knew what a coward I’ve become—let alone over a woman.

Even with his hair in wet disarray and the scowl on his face, Detective Preston Andrews—Press to his friends—was a striking figure. Women were drawn to his dark and brooding good looks, his intelligence and the force of his physical presence. The small scar on the cheek above a chiseled jaw line and just below half of the pair of dimples that showed when he flashed his wide, white-toothed smile, seemed to make him even more attractive to the opposite sex. All that and he cut one hell of a handsome figure in a tux.

Men valued and sought his opinion; he was a respected man and cop. They also, smartly, tended to back away from his fury. While it rarely flared, until recently, it inspired awe when in full bloom.

Those who were on the wrong side of the law simply feared him. Few knew what a softhearted soul laid beneath that tough, handsome exterior.

Now combed into place, his glossy pitch-black hair—obviously cut by an expert—laid in thick, waving, feathery layers that any woman would simply die to run her fingers through.

The dark complexion was a stark contrast to the eyes of icy blue, surrounded by thick black lashes. They could stop a woman’s heart at fifty paces or pierce a suspect’s nerve across an interrogation table.

At six-foot-three-inches and two-hundred-twenty pounds of well-toned muscle, with broad shoulders and a six-pack that any man would envy, few would think of challenging him physically. His regular exercise regimen would make most men