Black Buggies and Dark Secrets

By GiAnna Moratelli

When Sheriff's Deputy Tom Zane is called to an accident regarding a pedestrian and a pickup in the country, he finds a young man lying in the road who has been shot. He calls springfield's Lt. Joe Novelli. As Novelli investigates the murder he hits a brick wall. The Amish Elders. To find the killer he butts head with the Amish bureaucracy which is use to taking care of their own problems and not relying on the English.

• Language: English
• Publisher: GiAnna Moratelli
• Release date: Dec 5, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311373939

GiAnna Moratelli

Born in El Paso, Texas, I grew up in Iowa and was lucky enough to have parents that that had money to travel, a truck and 45' fifth wheel, and liked to travel. I've been in almost all of the fifty states, from the east coast to the west and have visited small bits of Canada and Mexico. As a major in history, I've visited the battlefield of the Little Big Horn; on three different occasions, Gettysburg Battlefield, and the Battle of Athens (which most have never visited, it sits on the border of Iowa and Missouri). I've been to as big a places as the Smithsonian Institute and small places as the grave of Chief Wapello located in Agency, Iowa and The Grotto of the Redemption in northern Iowa, which is well worth anyone's time, especially if you like rocks and history. I grew up, as ole horsemen say, on the back of a horse. I started riding by myself when I was three and when I was sixteen I started working at the tracks of Standardbred racing barns during the summers when we weren't travelling. After graduating high school I bought a couple of race horse; a six month old dark bay filly named J.C's "Blitz" DeVane and a little later a yearling sorrel colt named "Breezy" Judge, which I trained and raced myself, only needing to acquire a fair license to do so, compared to those who had pari-mutual license. My horse racing came to an abrupt end a few years later with a barn fire, in which none of the 12 head of horses died, The horse I'm pictured with is Breezy, the best horse I ever owned (and I've owned a lot of horses of different breeds) and passed from this earth when he was 25 years old. I went to college, attended R.O.T.C.; went to Fort Knox, Kentucky for basic training and earned a B.A. in history. My interest lying mostly in American history. Other than the above, many other experiences in life, and living in different places, have given me good resources for my writing: 1. Staying with my grandparents on their farm when I was very young is where I learned to ride and gave me knowledge of farming, which I later helped a farmer near where I grew up. 2. I work for my father; who is a Certified Public Accountant, doing taxes and bookkeeping. I started working for him when I was in middle school, and after health problems in our family, have come back to help him as of 2019. 3. I managed my dad's used car lot in Fairfield, Iowa. 4. I drove a semi with a 52' trailer over the road for 13 years. 5. I worked real estate and did real estate appraisal as a second job to OTR. 6. I've done construction work (helping my dad and brother put up my dad's office building from the ground up, plus many other projects for my dad, many which included pouring concrete every Fourth of July for more years than I care to think about. 7. I worked for a local manufacture making cabinets 8. While in college I cleaned at a hotel to pay my way through the first two years. 9. After college, while driving OTR (after the RE job) I sub-taught for two years. 10. I worked security for four years. 11. I do know how to cook, make garden and can food. That's my life wrapped up in a peanut shell. I decided to write fiction under my pen name and non-fiction under my real name Linda Scott. Just a good idea I thought to keep the two of them seperate.

Book preview

Black Buggies and Dark Secrets

Lt. Joe Novelli, Homicide 9

By

GiAnna Moratelli

COPYRIGHT 2014 GiAnna Moratelli

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Chapter One

Joyce Poags pushed down on the accelerator of the ton pickup as she drove down the county road. She brushed her dark hair out of her eyes as she looked at one of the 911 sign beside a driveway as she flew by it. What was that address? As she took the curve a little fast, her cell phone tumbled to the floor. Damn it! Reaching down, she tried to feel for the phone. As her hand grasped it, she felt a bump in the road. What the hell? Sitting up she looked in the rearview mirror. Oh shit! Joyce slammed on the brakes, put the pickup in reverse and backed up. Jumping out of the truck she ran back to a body lying on the black top road. God, are you all right? I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you! She looked at an Amish boy who appeared to be in his late teens, lying in the middle of the road and felt for a pause. She didn’t find any. I can’t believe it! She looked at the blood and flesh on the pavement. Looking around, she didn’t see anyone. Running to her truck Joyce grabbed the cell from the seat and pushed 911. This is Doctor Joyce Poags; I just hit a man in the middle of the road.

* * * *

Sheriff’s deputy Tom Zane stepped out of his car. His dark eyes settled on the body lying in the road, the bright canary yellow pickup, with a vet box in the back of it, sat in front of it.

Joyce hurried up to him. I didn’t see him, honestly! I’m a veterinary and I was on my way to a call, she said walking beside Tom as he approached the man in the road. I know I was driving a little fast, but. I only glanced off the road for a second to check the address.

You need to stay back here ma’am, Tom said. He approached the body, knelt down and looked at the man. He was Amish, in his late teens, his clothes shredded from being dragged on the pavement. Pieces of his clothes and flesh were tore from his body, embedded in the orange peel of the black top road.

Looking at the teen’s bare shoulder, Tom could see what appeared to him to be buckshot. Standing he looked down the road. A black buggy was approaching as fast as the horse pulling it could trot. Tom frowned. He looked at a lone barn to the north side of the road surrounded by pasture. Taking his cell from his pocket, Tom looked up a number and pushed the button.

* * * *

The cell on Joe’s desk chirped. He picked it up and pushed a button. Lieutenant Novelli. Joe listened intensely. What’s that address? He jotted down the address on a pad of paper lying on his desk. I’m on my way. Tearing the page from the pad, he took long strides as he walked down the aisle between the desks. He tapped on a door and opened it. I’m got a case from the sheriff’s department.

Captain John Swift looked up from his paper work and nodded. I’ll see ya later.

* * * *

Joe stepped from the white Crown Victoria and looked at the scene. It looked like an accident involving a pickup with a farmer, so why would Tom call and request his presence? As he walked up to the deputy, his dark brown eyes scanned the area. The only thing around was a barn to the right of the road, where an Amish man stood, his horse and buggy tied at the barn. So what’s going on, Tom?

Tom thumbed toward the Amish boy lying on the pavement. His names Daniel Yoder, he’s sixteen. Joyce Poags called it in. She thought she ran over him. Guess she wasn’t paying any attention to her driving, but when I looked at him, I think he’s got a good case of lead poisoning with about twelve gauge buck shot.

I’ll see what you got. Joe looked at the body as he approached it. There was so much blood and flesh on the road he had to walk in it to examine the body. Looking at the scene, it appeared she had dragged the young man about thirty feet before getting stopped. Obviously she wasn’t paying attention to her driving; there weren’t any skid marks on the concrete from her tires.

Who is that? Joyce asked Tom.

Lieutenant Joe Novelli, he’s from the homicide unit.

Homicide! Joyce looked at Joe, watching him as he looked at Daniel Yoder’s body. She looked at Tom. You’re not going to arrest me for killing him, are you?