Wanderers

By Matthew Moseman

In August of 1939 in New York City, a missing spouse should be just a run of the mill case for Private Eye Marcus Tennant. However, he quickly learns that not all is as it seems when the federal government and a local mob boss take interest in the case as well. He soon finds himself entangled with religious zealots and would-be freedom fighters all out to save the mankind from an invasion and the end of the world.

"Wanderers" was a Quarter Finalist for the 2013 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Matthew Moseman
• Release date: Jul 12, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311917621

Matthew Moseman

Matthew Moseman began his writing career at the ripe old age of ten when he began writing his first police procedural story. It wasn't good and he quickly left it, but his love of writing continued and improved. He studied theater and creative writing at Central Community College and graduated with a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Theater Degree from Hastings College in 2000.Moseman is the author of four full length novels available in paperback and digital form through Amazon.com, BarnesandNoble.com, and Smashwords.com. His third novel, "Wanderers", was a quarter finalist for the 2013 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award.He currently lives in Columbus with his wife, Amanda, and their five (yes, five) children.

Book preview

Wanderers

Matthew Moseman

Copyright 2012 by Matthew Moseman

Published by Fiveisalright Publishing at Smashwords

CHAPTER ONE

It was raining again; no surprise there. It had been for most of the week. It wouldn’t have been all that bad but it was a hot rain, the kind that made the air thick and heavy like in an old speakeasy when it was full of smoke and sweat and sin.

I was sitting at my desk with my feet up and watching the rain fall outside my window while the Dodgers played the Pirates on the radio and I focused on my sweating. The brand new oscillating fan I’d bought earlier in the week had been running practically non-stop since I’d first brought it into the office. For the most part it had done a fine job of moving the hot air from one part of the room to the other. But I was still wearing my third fresh shirt of the day. I wasn’t sure why; I hadn’t had anyone to impress in weeks.

Things had definitely been quiet. But that was fine, it had been too hot for me to be busy and I’d had every intention of remaining not busy.

Then she walked in…

I heard the outer office door click open and someone step in. I immediately put my feet down and opened the top right hand drawer of my desk where I kept my .38. I had my .45 safely tucked into the shoulder rig I wore but I’d been sweating a lot and didn’t want my grip to fail.

Hello? said a woman’s voice.

In back, I called. I relaxed a little but I kept the drawer with the gun open. Hey, you never know.

The woman opened my door and my breath got stuck in my throat, like I’d swallowed some steak too early. She was tall, taller than any woman I’d ever met before, but a lot of them like her were. Her facial features were soft and delicate with radiant skin and the biggest, darkest eyes I’d ever seen and I was certain that I’d never see their like again. She was well dressed with a dark blue dress that fell just below the knees, a simple string of pearls, and a pair of those new nylon stockings I’d heard women were starting to wear. She welcomed herself to my coat rack and hung up her tan raincoat and big blue hat on it before walking over to my desk.

She moved well, gliding across the room the way good scotch slides down your throat.

May I sit? she said in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper. It almost made me blush.

Please do.

She smiled and almost floated into one of my client chairs, crossing her legs at the ankle and holding her matching clutch purse in her lap. Her obsidian eyes fell on my right hand which was still laying flat on the desk near the open drawer.

You have a weapon in your desk, she said. It wasn’t a question.

I do.

Do you think I’m dangerous?

One never can tell, I said with a disarming smile.

The corners of her mouth turned up slightly.

What can I do for you, Miss…?

My mate is missing, she said, blatantly sidestepping my request for her name.

Your mate?

Her head cocked a little to the side and her big eyes narrowed a little. She recovered quickly and smiled again. My husband is missing. She spoke clearly and well with only the slightest hint of an accent.

Okay, I said. Why me?

I beg your pardon?

Why come to me? Why not the cops?

She nodded. Ah, I understand, she said. I have my reasons.

And what might they be?

She smiled again, but this time there was something behind it. They are mine, she said.

Ah.

If that makes you uncomfortable, I can show myself out, Mr. Tennant.

I didn’t say that, I said.

A heavy, dark cloud passed over my building and my office darkened some. Only she seemed to glow a little in that brief patch of shadow.

Why don’t you tell me about it?

She smiled.

My ma—, she caught herself and smiled. My husband went out for drinks Saturday night with several associates. He did not return home and he has not telephoned.

Did you reach out to the ‘associates’ he had drinks with?

Reach out?

Have you contacted the people he was with Saturday night?

Oh, she said. I have. They saw him get into a taxi cab to come home.

And none of your…people have seen him?

No.

The hairs on the back of my neck bristled as though I’d just stepped inside of a meat locker full of porterhouse. There was something about my potential client that bothered me and it was far more than just her exotic lineage. Something about the whole deal didn’t feel right and part of me wanted to send her on her way. But the other part of me was listening to my stomach growl.

Who were these associates your husband was with?

They are the men he works with.

Interesting, I said. Where does he work?

Consolidated Edison.

Your husband works for Con Ed?

She nodded.

Okay, I said with a shrug.

She eyed me questioningly, her large raven eyes seeming lost. Excuse me, why do you find it interesting that my husband is employed?

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it, I stammered as I nervously took a cigarette out of the open case on my desk and lit it with the table lighter beside it. It’s just… I didn’t know that any of you… that your people worked.

She scoffed softly and nodded with a small smile. Yes, Mr. Tennant, some of us choose to work even though it is not at all necessary.

Even though she gave no outward sign of it, I was certain that I’d insulted my new client-to-be. All I could do was keep talking and try not to offend her any worse while her voluminous eyes studied me.

When did your husband’s co-workers last see him?

I—I do not know, she said as her cheeks turned an odd shade of blue. You ask many questions.

I do, I said. It’s part of the job.

She nodded as the color in her cheeks deepened. I have never done this before, she said.

Well, I would imagine there are quite a few things here that you haven’t done yet, I said.

She smiled and laughed a little. You are right, she said. Will you help me, Detective Tennant?

I will, I said. And it’s not ‘detective’, okay? Cops are detectives. I’m just plain Marcus Tennant.

Mar-coos, she said. The way she said my name made me feel like I’d just slipped into a hot bath.

Yes, I said after I cleared my throat a little. Now there are some things we should discuss.

Your compensation, she said with a nod as he opened her clutch purse. From it she placed several precious stones on my desk. There had never been that much collateral on my desk before. It made my mouth water like I’d just been served the tasting menu at The Rainbow Room. Is that enough? she said innocently like a child buying candy for the first time.

I’m sure it is, I said, licking my lips as I stared at them. But I generally prefer cash or check, and I usually don’t accept full payment up front.

Oh, she said as she scooped up the stones and put them away while her cheeks colored again. Do you require a…retainer?

It would be nice.

I told her how much.

Is that all? she said without batting an eye as she reached back into her clutch and pulled out several crisp bills which she placed where the stones had just been. I fought the urge to lick my lips.

Is there anything else you require of me, Marcoos? she said, drawing me away from my hungry stare.

Um, first off, I said as I swallowed hard, why don’t we stick with ‘Mr. Tennant’. Second, I’m going to need a list of all of your husband’s friends, co-workers, and fam—family.

She smiled. But of course, she said as she opened her purse and pulled out a plain piece of paper with a list of names, addresses, and titles handwritten by a flawless hand. I hadn’t seen such carefully, perfect script since my primer books as a kid in elementary school. At the bottom were the address and phone number for her and her husband.

Will that be sufficient, Mr. Tennant?

Almost, I said as I browsed the data. I’m missing one more crucial piece of information.

Really? What is that?

His name.

She smiled as her cheeks blued again.

Of course, how foolish of me. His true name is Anadool, but you may call him Andrew. I believe that is the name your people know him by.

May I also have your name? I asked. I’m sure that might come in handy later.

Certainly. My name is Alazadol. You may call me Alice.

Any last name?

She smiled at me and said nothing.

I know that you probably don’t need it all that often, I said, considering who you are. But I’d like to have it.

Alice nodded. We are all Tehmarians, she said. And we all use the name of our home: Tehmar.

Very good, I said. I’ll report to you as soon as I know something.

Thank you, she said as she stood and walked to the coat rack and collect her things. I stood as well and took the opportunity to examine Alice’s backside. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that she had very attractive and shapely calves so I was enjoying the view.

Until her tail peeked out.

CHAPTER TWO

You’re working for a God damn Tehmarian? said Billy Doyle. He practically screamed it at me.

It sure seems that way, I said before taking a sip of bourbon.

My retainer and I were sitting at Billy Doyle’s pub, aptly named Doyle’s Pub, and we were celebrating employment. I’d locked my office doors roughly five minutes after Alice Tehmar had walked out of my office. I had the whole retainer with me and visited and walked right past my bank on the way to Doyle’s pub. I hadn’t kept a single cent in a bank since Black Tuesday. I didn’t care if it had been ten years.

I’d always liked Doyle’s Pub and it was usually my bar of choice. Sure, Billy Doyle and I had been partners on the force, but I still liked to think that Doyle’s would have been my favorite watering hole regardless.

Working for God damn Tehmarians, Doyle repeated in disbelief.

To be fair, I said, I’m not working for all of them. Just one hired me.

Yeah, sure, said Doyle with a frown. I betcha if one of ‘em gets their hooks in ya’ then they’ve all got their hooks in ya. You know what I’m sayin’?"

I think I know what you’re saying, I said as I sipped on my bourbon.

Doyle winked at me with a nod before sliding down the rail to tend to other customers. Normally, a Tuesday afternoon wouldn’t’ be all that busy in a bar but it was still raining out and Billy had the air conditioning cranked and Gotham’s citizens were starved for cool air. Unfortunately, with so many people in the building, the air conditioning was having a difficult time keeping up and I was starting to feel a little boxed in. I put a five on the bar under my glass, nodded at Billy, and headed on my way.

The rain had let up for at least a little bit, which was nice. But now I was stuck carrying my rain coat through a hot and humid fog. There was a light breeze at least as I started walking towards the subway. The sun peeked out from behind the clouds and beat on my back as I went, like I was being followed by Cerberus.

But I wasn’t being followed by the guard dog of Hades. I was being followed by someone else. I wasn’t sure how I knew for sure, I just did. It had become an instinct for me anymore; it was something I could feel in my bones, like when you knew your mother was standing over your bed when you were supposed to be sleeping as a child.

Sure, I wasn’t alone on the streets of lower Manhattan; the sidewalks were full of people just getting off work or going shopping, or coming into the city for a hot night on the town, but this was different.

I didn’t let on that I knew, I just kept on walking and fought the urge to pick up my pace or to look over my shoulder. I stopped at an intersection and let a cigarette and took a moment to look around casually. I smiled and nodded at an attractive woman as I blew out a plume of smoke and tossed my match to the ground. The smile wasn’t just for the dame; it was also for my amusement at picking out my shadow.

They were easy to pick out amongst the civilians who were visibly suffering from the heat. Everyone had ties loosened, suit vests unbuttoned, and hats tipped back. Not my shadow, they were dressed in black suits with starched shirts and black neck ties still knotted tightly at their throats and black fedoras pulled down tight over black sunglasses. They had to be Feds, they stuck out so badly.

As we continued on, I tried to keep an eye on them in storefront windows and they were always there. I had no doubt, that feeling I got never subsided.

The subway stairs were quickly approaching and I knew I needed to think of something. I could run down the stairs and try to jump the turnstile and hop the nearest train in hopes of a quick getaway but with my luck there’d be some poor rookie cop babysitting the turnstiles and I really didn’t need any hassle with the cops. That left me with Plan B.

I stopped at the newsstand that sat at the top of the subway stairs and bought a copy of the Times and flipped through a few pages while many of my sidewalk companions descended down into the belly of the city. My two pals in the black suits didn’t descend; they remained above ground and also perused the selections at the kiosk. I smiled to myself as I folded up my paper and continued down the street. The Feds fell in not too far behind me.

At the next intersection I turned and broke into a run, trying to make it to the alley before my shadows could turn the corner. When I hit the alley I turned into it and ran even faster, hoping to double back and make it to the subway. I looked over my shoulder once I was halfway down the alley. No one was behind me and the feeling of dread I’d had sitting next to my heart was gone so I slowed down to an easy pace and I smiled. I even whistled a little.

I strolled easily through the station and smiled as I read my paper from Lower Manhattan to Brooklyn. I got off at the 36th Street station and made my way to my apartment building that just barely had a view of Sunset Park. It was at the top of a five story brownstone that I had gotten in my near divorce some time earlier. I hated the climb but it was mine and it was easier to keep it. Besides, it felt almost comforting to live within walking distance of Greenwood Cemetery.

My third shirt of the day was completely soaked through by the time I reached the top of the staircase. I had just stopped and hunched over to catch my breath when a pair of hands grabbed me and pushed me face first into the wall. Another pair stood me upright and pulled my jacket off of my shoulders to my elbows before spinning me around and shoving me up against the wall.

My tow friends stood in front of me in their black suits and shades. One was smiling around a toothpick.

Hi there, shamus, he said to me. Then to his friend, Grab his heater and wallet.

The friend nodded without speaking as he stuck his hand