Death Wants Three

By Karl Tutt

This is the highly anticipated sequel to DEATH TIMES TWO. T.K. and Sunny think they've dodged the bullet, but the notorious Boss Lady and her lieutenant are still free. They have other plans. Three more must die so the Norfolk mob can set an example . . . a warning that involves more murders and blood running in the streets. After all, it's strictly business.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Karl Tutt
• Release date: May 2, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311662958

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

DEATH

WANTS

THREE

by

KARL

TUTT

Prologue

I carried the .38 with me everywhere, sometimes on my belt covered by a light jacket or a denim shirt, sometimes on my right ankle. The damned thing chafed me in both places, but I thought I might need it. I was beginning to wonder why.

It had been quiet. Sunny was teaching during the week. She came home full of stories – good students, bad ones – and lots of in between, but it was obvious that the college gig was good for her. She loved the students and the challenge, found it much more satisfying than filling beer mugs and mixing drinks for a bunch of Key West reprobates and drunken tourists at The Green Parrot – and the college kids didn’t try to pinch her ass.

Occasionally she handed me an essay with traces of innocent brilliance, philosophies or an attitude that screamed idealism or originality. I had to marvel that anyone -- even the young -- had escaped the skepticism and warped sense of reality created by the violence of ISIS, Boko Haram, Al Quaeda and the rest of the nihilists that sometimes seemed to pervade, and even control, too much of our consciousness. Would the kids survive to believe that there was anything true or good in the world? I wish the hell I knew.

I hoped there was, but I had to work to find it too much of the time. Sunny and I seemed safe for now, but there had already been two murders. I didn’t want ours to be the next two. Then there was Glen. I had talked to him a few times. He was upbeat and confident. His karate school was doing well and he’d hooked up with a new band. Lots of Willie Dixon, Muddy Waters, and Sonny Boy Williamson. They were mostly playing dives around Virginia Beach, but they were working steadily and he loved the blues music they played. Blood and guts stuff, he called it.

Nevertheless, Bill’s warnings were never far from my mind, They’ll wait for a while, but not too long. It’s bad for business. Glen, Sunny, and I had put a huge kink in their heroin trade – probably only temporary – but it had definitely cost them some money and a couple of dead thugs.

Bill knew. He was a detective with the Norfolk P.D. His wife, Sarah, taught at the college with Sunny. We’d had dinner with them several times. Nice folks. He was a bit quiet, overweight and sartorially challenged, but very clever and thorough when it came to dealing with the guys on the wrong side of the law. She was blond and still beautiful in a graceful maturity. Her face broke into a broad smile whenever I cracked one of my bad jokes. She seemed to have developed a strong bond with Sunny. It was that thing where they were the two that knew something no one else knew . . . and they weren’t telling. I supposed it was instructor insight -- or maybe it was just two like-minded women. Anyway, we invariably had good old-fashioned fun. Too much beer, wine, and lots of laughter. So what’s to complain about?

Me? I’m still a washed up English professor who probably imbibes a bit too much and can’t stop stepping in and out of murder. Sunny says it’s my destiny – that I’m the Ghostcatcher whether I want to be or not. So it goes. I’ve still got most of my hair and I’m carrying my 190 lbs. in the right places. Living on a boat keeps the eternal tan and