Diabla meets Abaddon

By Karl Tutt

Diabla Meets Abaddon is the second in the Dee Rabow Mystery trilogy. Dee and her partner, Ricky, were unceremoniously dismissed from Fort Lauderdale Police Department after some improprieties in a murder investigation. Nevertheless, they solved the case. Now they've gone private, but they're barely making the office rent. Suddenly an old love appears out of Dee's past. He decided he didn't need her before, but now he needs her more than ever. His reputation, his career, and even the life of his fiance depend on it. Unfortunately, a couple of not so innocent girls lose their lives before she can get to the bottom of it. In the meantime, she's dodging sharp objects, one determined psycho, and his own personal army.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Karl Tutt
• Release date: Sep 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310703140

Karl Tutt

Karl Tutt is a retired English teacher from a dropout prevention program in Florida. He is a veteran cruiser who has published several sailing articles in national publications. His two new offerings, The Children of the Wolf and The House at Hull, continue the mastery of murder and mayhem demonstrated in the Ghostcatcher series with T.K Fleming, and his female sleuth, Dee Rabow, in the Diabla series. Quick, engaging, and satisfying . . . those words describe the approach that has lured thousands of readers to the pages of his murder mysteries.

Book preview

DIABLA

MEETS

ABADDON

by

Karl Tutt

Smashwords Edition

Copyright Karl Tutt 2014

All rights reserved without limiting the copyright reserved above. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, brands, characters, places, media and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction which might have been used without permission. The publication use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Thanks to Carolyn and Rosalee, my patient readers, and Sue, an editor who is generous with her time and attention.

DIABLA MEETS ABADDON

by

KARL TUTT

Chapter 1

"I am God’s agent. My mission is clear. It comes from Him. I will rid the world of the liars, the thieves, the whores who despoil God’s green earth and defy his will. They lay down before me as the Philistine, Goliath, lay at David’s feet. Their heads will roll as they hang from the sacred tree like rotten fruit, ready to have eyes plucked from their skulls by the savage vultures of hell. God’s will is mine. The sword is mine. The rope is mine.

Beware and behold the eternal agony of God’s vengeance."

Abaddon

What the hell? It came in an unmarked manila envelope. No return address, no note of explanation. Who the hell or what was Abaddon? It sounded like the ravings of some demented soul from an institution. It was obviously a photocopy. Maybe a bad joke . . . maybe a warning of some sort. I’ve done a lot of things, been a lot of things I shouldn’t have been in my time. Now I was just trying to make a decent living as a private investigator, minding my own business when it suited me.

I showed it to Ricky, my partner.

This guy needs to be in one of those lovely jackets that laces up from behind. His comment was one I couldn’t disagree with.

I stuffed it in a drawer. Some kook, I thought, nothing to get bent out of shape about. Not the first time I’ve been wrong, but almost the last. I went back to the files. There were damned few of them. Most of the cases we’d had since we opened the office were small and petty. Most people paid, but we were barely making the rent. Not like when we were Fort Lauderdale cops working homicide. A lot of deadening routine, but spiced with plenty of excitement and a regular paycheck. The thrill of going out on your own? Better be careful what you wish for. That’s what Dad always said. The good news is I hadn’t been shot at recently. But that was also about to end.

I’ve been pretty good at a lot of things in the past. I was a damned good stripper. Had the ass, the tits and all of the moves. I knew how to get that sexy trill my voice, bat my eyelashes and twirl my long blond curls with the best of them. When I graduated to call girl, my date book was always full and I was rolling in cash. I’m not making apologies -- although I definitely own one to my Dad. Then I became a cop. It took me a while to learn the ropes and get the attitude I needed to work homicide. But I got pretty good at that, too. Now my partner, Ricky and I had gone private and I can’t scare up a solid case to save my life. The landlord quietly knocks on the office door, offers a sad smile and whispers, Late again. If someone else didn’t knock on our door soon with a case and a check, we’d be doing business out of a tent on Ocean Drive. Believe me. Fort Lauderdale is way too hot for that.

I picked up the SUN-SENTINEL hoping to find some solace or at least a lead we could work. Sometimes there was bit of local news that got my professional chops drooling. We had a few things on the calendar, but not enough to keep the wolf from the door. Of course, there’s always some divorce work. I hate it, but it comes with the territory. The shit is often ugly and personal in a way that made my guts churn. How people who had done the ‘till death do us part’ two-step could long for their ex-partners to get terminal cancer was beyond me. The pay was usually crappy, when they paid at all. I had even turned down a couple of potential paydays when the exes resembled denizens from the bowels of Dante’s Inferno.

Nothing too interesting until I got to the society page. And there he is -- above the fold -- holding the most beautiful Brazilian woman I’ve ever seen. They were formally engaged. His arm is around her shoulder and she’s looking up at him like he’s the Messiah returned to earth. I read the first couple of paragraphs.

She’s from a prominent South American family, apparently quite wealthy and well-connected, a practicing attorney with one of best law firms in South Florida. He is the handsome, up-and-coming assistant DA rumored to be running for the Senate in November. He is also an ex-bedmate of mine. Quite competent in that area also. Dear old Hot Rod, looking eminently respectable and totally enamored with the striking Estrella. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt some. But what the hell? Let ‘em be happy. It’s all too rare these days. I had no right to any axe to grind and he wouldn’t be the first senator I had screwed, or maybe I should say screwed me.

There wasn’t much else in