Moon Dog

By Cheryl Schultz (Richards)

Aircraft mechanic Wally Zilner has been having nightmares since he discovered his friend's murdered body. Determined to find his friend's killer, Wally starts his own investigation which leads him to Ryan Van Rose, the pilot who ruined his career with Trans Coastal Airlines. In the meantime, his ex-girlfriend is found strangled by the railroad tracks by the woman's best friend, a waitress named Jill O'Connor. When Wally and Jill discover their mutual connection with the dead woman, they work together to find the brutal killer before he finds and kills them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cheryl Schultz (Richards)
• Release date: Feb 24, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310861017

Cheryl Schultz (Richards)

Cheryl Schultz is an American author of romance and crime, who lives in Valparaiso, Indiana with her husband and two rescued cats. She is a full-time writer who previously worked in the healthcare industry. She writes her Sunny Kramer romance mystery series under her pen name, Cheryl Richards.

Book preview

MOON DOG

CHERYL SCHULTZ

Copyright 2002 Cheryl M. Schultz

Smashwords Edition

This book is available in print at most online retailers.

Books written as Cheryl Richards

(Sunny Kramer Novels)

Deadly Dosage

Close Call

***

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book 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.

This work is fiction. Creative liberties were taken incorporating fact with fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, places, or events is strictly a coincidence. Any trademarked products or companies mentioned throughout this work are meant to add realism to the story and should not be considered an endorsement of such.

Cover Design by Cheryl Schultz

Cover Photo by Mark D. Stanek 05-19-83

***

To my husband John, for giving me the opportunity, love, and support to pursue my dream.

In memory of Mark D. Stanek who passed away on February 14, 2014. Railroad enthusiast, friend, and all around nice guy. You will be missed.

***

Acknowledgement

I would like to thank my husband, John, for sharing his knowledge of the railroads running through Hammond, Indiana and the operations of lining up a train at State Line Interlocking Tower. He also provided me with detailed information on Boeing 727 cockpit procedures and aircraft maintenance.

***

MOON DOG

***

Chapter 1

Friday, September 17, 1976

Hammond, Indiana

Wally Zilner woke with a start. He lay staring up at the stucco ceiling, his heart racing and his body damp with sweat. This was not his first nightmare, nor would it be his last. The nightmares had been coming since the night of his best friend’s murder. He rubbed at his eyes hoping to wipe the blood stained image from his retinas, but it was of no use.

Taking deep breaths to calm himself, he turned on his right side and glanced down at the alarm clock resting on a makeshift nightstand of orange crates. A thin blade of light shining in from a nearby window illuminated the white face of the clock, the black hands showing 10:35 p.m. Time to get up.

Pushing back the tangled blue sheet, Wally slid his legs over the left side of the bed, resting his bare feet on the cold, hardwood floor. He paused for a fleeting moment, contemlating returning to bed, but then stood and headed to the bathroom, leaving the sheets in a rumpled ball.

As he entered the bathroom, his side collided with the corner of the bathroom counter and he swore loudly. While rubbing the pain out of his injured side, he flicked on the light. Bending over the rust stained basin, he turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face, then gazed intently into his cracked, bathroom mirror as he dried his face with a tattered towel. The face that appeared before him was tired, haunted and darkened by day old whiskers.

God, I look old for thirty-four, he muttered to himself. Nevertheless, that’s what happens when you n ever get a break in this lousy world.

He took out the toothpaste and put a line of gritty paste on his toothbrush. As he brushed his teeth, he found himself questioning what he did in a previous life to suffer a hellish childhood and now a stressful adult life. He was grateful that partying too hard shortened his abusive parent’s lives. He was seventeen when they left on their final journey to hell.

Wally hated when people said you determine your own life. No matter how much effort he put forth, the odds were always stacked high against him. Life’s never-ending humilities made him bitter and pessimistic.

He spit out the toothpaste and rinsed his mouth with a handful of cold water. After wiping his mouth with a washcloth, he stared in the mirror and prayed that for once something would work in his favor. Nevertheless, he knew better. Surely his guardian angel was a fallen soul.

Wally left the bathroom, turning out the light and headed toward his dimly lit kitchen. An ex-girlfriend accused him once of living like a mole, but the dim lighting made for better viewing of the Norfolk & Western trains that ran behind his apartment on the ex-Nickel Plate Road.

He often wondered what it would have been like to work for the railroad. He spent many days and nights just watching trains and visiting interlocking towers throughout northern Indiana. His buddy Rob Anson used to go with him. Rob had a pickup truck with an extended cab and always carried a portable grill, charcoal, lighter fluid and a variety of seasonings with him on all of their rail fan trips.

All they needed to do was to drop in at a local store to get some food and beverages, and then select a location to snap photos of freight and passenger trains. Rail fanning just was not going to be the same now that Rob was gone.

Wally considered himself a railroad historian. He read extensively about the railroad industry, from railroad company formations to tower operations. Since he respected its property and its employees, he never stole anything from the railroad.

Why he chose his vocation as an airline mechanic, he would never know. The career had been an upward battle all the way and he had nothing to show for it thanks to the asshole he would be seeing tonight.

Opening the refrigerator door, he grabbed a can of diet soda, took a swig and left the now empty can on the chipped counter. He rummaged his keys from a dirty ashtray, grabbed his Marlboro’s and headed out his apartment.

Once outside, he locked the door, and then lit a cigarette. He savored a deep drag then grimaced, as his thoughts turned toward the unpleasant, but unavoidable, task that lay ahead of him.

Turning away from the door, he bounded up the three steps that led from his studio apartment and up to the darkened bowels of the street. Even the September weather was depressing he thought as he glanced up at the crystal, clear sky.

He pulled up the collar of his army jacket to stave off the cold northeast wind. As he walked down the dark, deserted street toward Ernie’s Diner, only the light from a moon dog guided his way.

***

Jill pulled on her freshly washed, powder blue waitress uniform as quickly as she could. She was late again, as usual. Friends often accused her of being a procrastinator but she did not see herself that way. She just was unlucky.

Take tonight for instance. She started getting ready an hour in advance; however, her cat Rudy got sick so she had to tend to him. In a hurry, she moved too quickly cleaning up the log of kitty puke and dropped some of it on her uniform, detaining her further since she had to clean it off. The bus left seven minutes ago, so she would have to run all the way to the diner.

Since Ernie, her boss, was not extravagant with the wages he paid, a cab was definitely out. Heck, he was so cheap he even cheated her out of some of her measly tips. Therefore, she resorted to hiding her tips in the hemline of her uniform, a trick she had learned from a co-worker.

Before leaving her low-rent apartment, Jill briefly straightened her shoulder-length, brown hair with her fingers. Why was she bothering with her hair? At this hour, the diner would be filled with scum litter, a term she endeared to the lowlifes and drunks of the city.

Most of them could barely scrape together enough for a decent meal, let alone a tip. Not that she was in much better shape financially, but she still had her pride.

She pulled on her old, nubby brown coat while opening the door, and called back into the apartment, Now go to sleep Rudy and I’ll play with you later.

As she closed the door she muttered, Momma’s got to face the cold and the ungrateful so we can move out of this dump.

Rudy meowed in agreement as the deadbolt clicked into place.

Pausing briefly on the stairs to breathe in the cold night air before her dash to the diner, Jill noticed how the light from the moon created a crucifix in the sky. Someone she knew at one time once called it a moon dog. An odd name, she thought, for something that was simultaneously spiritual and eerie. She suddenly felt vulnerable standing in the night shadows and bounded down the stairs. Normally cautious, she bolted across the railroad tracks without checking for a train.

In the alley between her apartment and the local liquor store, a pair of eyes the color of blue ice peered out of the darkness and watched her sprint into the shadows of the city.

Three floors up, Rudy witnessed the scene, as he gracefully licked his paw.

***

Ernie’s Diner was made from two old Monon Railroad passenger cars placed side by side, with the middle panels removed. Inside, Ernie added a counter to separate the grill, kitchen and employee area, from the dining patrons. Some of the booths contained original seats from the Monon passenger cars, while he obtained other seats from a variety of scrapped Wabash passenger cars owned by the Norfolk and Western Railway Company.

Ernie had been a chef for the Wabash Railroad, on the famous Cannonball passenger train until he was forced into early retirement at age forty, when passenger service ended in 1959. The Wabash continued freight service until it eventually merged with the Norfolk and Western.

Ernie’s passion for the railroad industry was still strong, so he applied to the Erie Railroad. Several months later, he was hired as assistant chef. He worked right through the merger with the Delaware, Lackawanna and Western, which merged with the Erie to form the Erie-Lackawanna Railroad on October 17, 1960. He worked on the Lake Cities between Hammond and Youngstown, Ohio as a chef until 1970, then quit to start his own business when it was rumored that the Erie-Lackawanna was suffering financially.

Although Ernie’s culinary skills were wasted in the greasy spoon he ran, he was con tent just the same. The diner served mainly to keep the memories of his golden years alive. The framed timetables, photographs and other railroad memorabilia hung on the walls of the diner, attested to the fact that Ernie had loved his years on the railroad and wanted to keep the memories close to his heart. He had maintained the railroad theme outside the diner as well, with the name of the diner on the arm of a train order signal.

***

Jill was panting by the time she got to the diner. Once safely inside, she took a deep breath to relax and tugged off her coat. While she was hanging it up, she slowly scanned the dining area to assess how busy her night was going to be.

At capacity, Ernie’s Diner held around one hundred and twenty customers. Tonight, she guessed there were around twenty-five diners; a handful of the booths were occupied in her section, plus there were a sprinkle of customers sitting at the counter.

As her eyes passed over the counter area, she noticed an attractive, mustached, blonde-haired man. He was well built, lean—not particularly muscular, probably stood around five foot, eight inches or so, however it was hard to tell since he was sitting. He appeared agitated and looked behind himself every so often, as if he were waiting company or the law.

Maybe it was his rugged good looks or his behavior, but he reminded her of Robert Redford in The Sting. He sure wasn’t a regular.

Evelyn, she said addressing the salt and pepper haired waitress behind her and motioning with her head to the counter, Have you seen him before?

Nope, Evelyn responded as she gazed intently at the man, and then once again at Jill with a raised eyebrow.

We finally get an interesting looking guy in here and I look a mess, Jill distraughtly complained. She looked at her warped reflection on the brushed aluminum refrigerator and tried to straighten her bangs.

Evelyn laughed and hugged Jill with her free arm, Well this Romeo looks too preoccupied to notice.

He looks nervous. Do you think the cops want him? I would be attracted to a criminal! Jill said.

Well, he’s in your section honey, go find out, Evelyn said nudging Jill in his direction.

Evelyn was around twenty years older than Jill O’Connor, and frequently thought of her as the daughter she would never have. She knew Jill was lonely, even though Jill pretended that all was fine on the home front. Evelyn also knew Jill did not think very highly of herself.

After working with her in the diner for the last four years, she learned more things about Jill from her facial expressions and body language then she did from the conversation. Deep down Evelyn hoped there was a rainbow waiting for Jill, but that was like hoping for early retirement, or winning a million dollar lottery. Some things just were not in the cards.

***

Wally noticed the approaching brunette, which he judged to be in her late twenties. Although she was pretty in a natural sort of way, he imagined her being someone’s kid sister, not some man’s lover.

As she neared him, he noticed the weary look in her eyes that belied he small smile affixed to her youthful face. He suddenly felt compelled to kiss her, to see if he could get that smile to spread to her hazel eyes, but he did not have the time or energy to be of help. He certainly had enough problems of his own. Besides, he would probably end up with a broken heart as he had in the past.

Therefore, instead of a kiss, he commenced to read the editorial section of the newspaper left by the last customer, while he downed the last of his lukewarm tea.

Can I get you more hot water for your tea? Jill asked him. He looked up and Jill felt herself drown in his intense gaze. The weight of the world gazed back at her in the form of turquoise eyes that were reddened from a lack of sleep. Her nerves got the better of her and she knocked over the teapot.

Oh I’m so sorry, Jill said quickly, grabbing a dishcloth and mopping up the mess. I’m really very sorry. So much for a tip, she thought as she quickly wiped up the spill, sending a spray of water in Wally’s direction.

To avoid being drenched, Wally backed away from the counter. Why him? It was as if a rain cloud was forever over his head. He saw Jill open her mouth to apologize, but he held up his hand to stop her.

That’s ok, I just have rotten luck, he stated matter-of-factly.

You look nervous. Are you in some sort of trouble? Jill hesitantly asked.

Somehow I don’t think you’re asking if my car broke down. Eating at a two-bit diner doesn’t mean you’re a drug dealer or a crook, he said while glancing over the headlines in the newspaper.

Oh I didn’t mean to imply—

Yes, you did Wally harshly interrupted, looking boldly into her eyes.

I’ll get you some more tea, Jill said, retreating from his angry gaze.

Wally shook his head and checked his watch, the only present he ever got from his parents. He turned toward the door and then turned back again.

When she returned, Jill inquired, Are you waiting for someone?

Wally chose to ignore her question. To his relief, she sensed it was none of her business, left the teapot and went back to work.

He grabbed his pack of Marlboros, smacked it on the counter and pulled out another cigarette. As he lit it, his eyes caught a sideways glance from Jill as she was filling a ketch up bottle. Can’t smoke in here? he questioned her, even though he knew he could.

What? Yeah, go ahead. You just don’t look like the type. Jill moved past him to refill the salt and pepper shakers located a few seats down from him.

Wally was going to ask what she meant by that, when the owner, Ernie, growled that the order for table five was ready. Jill swiftly turned and went to pick up the order.

If the truth be known, and it never would, Wally was not much of a smoker. He smoked because he thought that for some odd reason; maybe this small act of defiance would improve his life. So far, it just made his clothes smell.

Thirty minutes later, he heard a bell ring as the diner door opened, and his body tensed. He felt the icy draft from outside drift in and shivered, not from the cold, but from the evil he sensed behind him. Wally did not need to turn, to know who had entered the diner.

The man’s swagger could be heard as well as felt. Wally hated everything about Ryan Vanrose, from his unbelievable luck to his demi-god arrogance. Unfortunately, he was the only one who could help him now.

Chapter 2

Friday Night, September 17

Ryan prided himself on his accomplishments daily. For the second time tonight, he was boasting to Debra about what a great pilot he was. She had heard this chorus before and was bored, but still smiled sweetly at him nodding her head in agreement. After all, Ryan brought home quite a chunk of change, and she still had many things left on her wish list.

You should have seen me handle that plane Deb, Ryan sang.

The landing was perfect. Did I tell you the check airman actually looked jealous? Trans Coastal Airlines is lucky to have me. I could go to any other airline, you know.

Yes sweetie, I know, Debra responded, and then asked selfishly, Would you get paid more somewhere else?

Deb, if I could, Trans Coastal would match the amount. The company would fall apart without me.

Yeah right, Debra thought. So where are we going tonight? Debra asked, knowing that Ryan had plans. She made a habit of checking his daily planner to properly schedule her nocturnal affairs.

Me and some of the other guys are going to hang out at the airport bar, he said.

She was expecting that answer. Pouting, she whined, Ryan, don’t you want to spend some time with me?

Sure, just not tonight. Here’s some money babe, go get yourself something sexy.

I’ll do that, Debra thought, not that you’ll ever see it. She grabbed the cash and stuck it in her tiny macramé purse, while walking to the door. Turning back, she called, Well have fun sweetie; I’ll see you later.

At the slam of the door, both Debra and Ryan leaned against the door and sighed simultaneously in relief, knowing that their respective evenings would go on as planned.

Looking at his watch, Ryan noted that it was only 7:15 p.m., giving him some time to kill before meeting Wally. He knew Wally was just dying for the tidbit of information he had and it made him feel powerful. Just thinking of his importance gave him an erection. He reached for the phone, and while thinking of his favorite 20-year-old flight attendant Lonna, he quickly dialed her number.

Hello, Lonna answered in her typical bubbly voice.

Hey honey, you’re in luck. The company cancelled my trip. See you in fifteen. Ryan hung up the receiver and grinned slyly.

Yeah, tonight is going to be great.

***

Debra jumped into her brand-new 1976, gold sports car and burned rubber out of the driveway. There was a time when she was fond of Ryan, maybe even in love with him. That was back when she first met him at Trans Coastal Airlines, when she was twenty-four and a flight attendant. Ryan was a new captain on the Boeing 727.

At thirty, he was tall, dark and handsome and everything Debra was looking for in a man. Shortly after meeting, Ryan moved into her apartment in Hammond. After they married, they built a house in Crown Point. Thinking back now, she wished she could have stayed in Hammond. She had to drive so far now to see her friends. Funny after all these years, that she should now remember how Ryan’s icy blue eyes scared her when they first met. In the end though, his charm and money—mostly his money—won her over.

Being a new captain at such a young age made Ryan’s already sufficient ego soar. Debra, though more conniving than bright, knew that Ryan was promoted because the company could not hold on to their qualified pilots. After all, who wan ted to fly out of Midway Airport? She didn’t. That’s why she left Trans Coastal when she married Ryan.

In her opinion, he was a lousy pilot. He made a nasty habit of purposely flying through turbulent areas for kicks. Once she wore a Bloody Mary home on her uniform because of his antics, and made him pay dearly, later that night for the mishap. However, as they say, that was then and this is now.

Debra found that at thirty-five, Ryan’s empty charm and cold heart had her looking for greener pastures. It was pathetically easy to find other men. God had blessed her indeed. She was a five foot, six inch tall natural blonde and at thirty years old; she still had a great face and body, and knew how to use her gifts. She kept her hourglass figure by working out at Sergio’s Health Club three times a week, courtesy of Ryan’s wages.

She met Wally at the local grocery store in mid-December, 1975. She was there in aisle six selecting a bottle of champagne for one of her nighttime excursions, when she turned abruptly into him.

Debra was immediately attracted to Wally, and she overtly flirted with him until he invited her out for a drink. They went to a little tavern just outside of town and got real chummy. When he asked what her name was, she told him it was Cathy Radbe. She made a habit of keeping her married name from the various men in her life.

However, for some reason she told Wally things about herself she had never told anyone else, except the fact that she was married. Wally had asked her out for another date at the end of the evening. They spent a lot of time together after that day; however they only remained a couple for six months.

One night after visiting her friend Jill, Debra had stopped into the airport lounge for a drink. She never went any further than the door, when she saw Wally with Ryan. Figuring Wally to be a private detective, Debra Catherine Vanrose dropped him the next night without so much as a goodbye hug or kiss. No siree, Debra would never forget Wally and she would make sure he did not forget her.

***

Ryan backed his red, 1968 muscle car out of the driveway and headed up the road to catch Interstate 65. Lonna lived in Munster, so it would take around thirty-five minutes or so to get there. He plopped in his newly acquired cassette of the Rocky soundtrack and increased the volume and the bass.

He loved driving almost as much as he loved flying—almost. With the driver’s side window rolled down, Ryan raced past the flat farmland of northern Indiana, clipping at a speed in excess of eighty miles an hour, zigzagging in and out of the lanes without warning other drivers of his intentions.

Ryan was one of those annoying drivers, who acted as if directional signals were an option he declined to purchase for his vehicle. He almost ran one old man in a white sedan off the road when he switched lanes south of the Interstate 80-94 exchange. Ryan cared about Ryan, and no one else. If anyone pointed this out to him, Ryan would readily agree without an ounce of remorse.

When he reached his exit, he smiled as visions of Lonna in lingerie danced in his head. After he pulled into a parking space labeled tenant, he combed his hair in the rearview mirror and sprayed mint breath freshener in his mouth. He winked at himself in the mirror, grabbed his keys and jumped out of the car.

He paused to take a deep breath of the night air, which smelled slightly fishy, courtesy of Lake Michigan and the ever-present northeast wind.

Humming the theme from the movie Rocky, he strutted to her

apartment building.

***

Debra drove toward her hangout, The Shipwreck, where she was supposed to meet a guy named Michael Curtis whom she met at Sergio’s Health Club. Michael was a trial lawyer who owned a small cabin cruiser that he kept at the marina located less than a mile from The Shipwreck. She had dinner with him last week and they agreed to have cocktails tonight, followed by a romantic evening of boating on Lake Michigan.

However, five minutes into the drive she reconsidered, turned around and headed for home. As she was coming down the road, she thought she passed Ryan, so she made a quick right down the next street, parked her car in the cul de sac and waited until she felt sure he was gone. Then she shifted gears to the drive position and drove the short distance home, where she parked the car in the garage.

Once inside the house, she tossed her purse on the kitchen counter and slipped out of her black, leather coat, which she hung in the hall closet.

***

It was amazing how the Holy Spirit worked! The angels guided him in fulfilling the Lord’s prophecy as smoothly as if the Lord himself was working hand in hand with him. He glanced at the manila envelope lying on the passenger seat of his car, and mused at the ease of finding her amongst the multitudes. She just walked into his life, like a present from God above and he had enjoyed every minute he spent with her.

Unfortunately, the fun was just about over; her time had come. He recently overheard at The Landing Strip nightclub, that she had information regarding the death of Wally Zilner’s friend—his first kill. Although he planned to kill her, he was hoping to wait a little longer, since she was special, his sacrificial lamb. He hoped that she would understand his divine intervention and be a willing participant, but she was probably just as ignorant as the rest of society. However, he was partially to blame for that. But, as the saying goes, hindsight is 20/20 and now was the time to make up for his past mistakes.

She would be surprised, that was a guarantee. He closed his eyes shortly as he waited for a traffic light to change to green, and let his imagination wander. In his dreamlike state, he saw her dressed in a flowing white robe, with a lovely golden aura surrounding her body. She would look at him and be awestruck by his pureness, her pupils darkening and taking on the shape of the Star of David. She would welcome death to be purified, and to honor him. When he opened his eyes, they were moist with tears of joy.

The traffic light changed and he continued his drive, increasing his speed due to his excitement. He could hardly