The Cult Of Koo Kway: Dan Landis Mystery Series, #3

By Jay Mims

Private detective Dan Landis wakes up handcuffed and shoeless. An angry client is threatening him with a collander. Just another Monday.

Dan escapes the client, only to encounter a beautiful blonde in need of rescuing, his best friend poisoned, and a group of college professors missing.

It's up to everyone's favorite detective to get to the bottom of this growing mystery. But, Dan will need all of his wits, charm, and skills to get out of this one.

When it comes to the Cult of Koo Kway, there are no easy answers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jay Mims
• Release date: Mar 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9780997212532

Jay Mims

Jay Mims, better known as Mimsey, lives two miles past nowhere with The Mimsus. He also accidentally adopted his neighbor’s cat, Eartha Kitty, has a lizard named Bob hiding in his house, and tolerates a passive-aggressive Dalek roommate named Steve. When not writing cozy mysteries, Jay teaches and is learning knitting. Jay is currently working on knitting a cape. Capes are cool. 

Book preview

For my sister Katie, who continues to inspire.

And for my Daddy, the first Geechee I ever knew.

The Cult of Koo Kway

A Dan Landis novel

By Jay Mims

Table of Contents

The Present

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

The Past

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

The Present

Chapter 29

The Future

Chapter 30

Chapter 1

The Present

Sunday, December 25

I’m in trouble Gertie, Julianne Jones said. She exhaled and a look of relief washed over her face. The amber light of her $500 lamp cast harsh shadows across her face, aging her about a hundred years. Her shoulders sagged. She brushed an errant strand of raven hair out of her face. Dan Landis rustled through the envelope of money his sister had just given him. It was thick. He searched for something witty to say, to lighten the oppressive mood in this corner office, on the top floor of one of the most expensive law firms in the state. Nothing was coming to mind.

The clock on the wall, a solidly built handcrafted monstrosity, ticked away. He glanced at the clock. The number four on the face was IIII instead of IV. Between the ticks of the second hand, the woman across from him transformed from the cool and confident Julianne Boom-Boom Jones, terror of the courtroom. Now she was Jules, his sister, the little girl he’d once dived into an icy lake to save.

I’ll do it, he said.

What? Jules asked, her light blue eyes, almost translucent, narrowed in suspicion.

You’re in trouble. I mean, if you’re calling me, you must be in real trouble.

She sighed. I need someone I can trust.

Don’t we all, Dan held up the thick envelope. This can buy a lot of trust. He set it on her side of the desk and let it go. The selfish part of his heart died a little inside. Mine’s not for sale. The looming figure behind Jules cleared his throat. She looked up at her husband, the honest cop who always got his man. Then behind Dan, at the picture of calm, Professor Leroy Brown.

Dan took a breath. I have a lot of love for the occupants of this room.

Thanks, she said.

Get out.

Excuse me?

He turned from the hulking man in the trench coat, Detective Gary Jones, to the man who was arguably his dearest living friend. I am not saying another word until we are alone. As a private investigator, there are certain confidences protected under the law. Barring a court order, I am under no obligation to share my clients secrets. Of equal protection are the spousal protections, which can only be violated if the confidences are declared in a public place or the presence of others.

Don’t forget medical ethics, Julianne purred. A chill ran up his spine. He only had one doctor friend, and if his sister was getting Bernie involved, then this was serious.

His voice became low, as he locked eyes with his sister. We need to talk. He pulled a nickel from his pocket, holding it out as a peace offering. I value your services as an attorney.

There was a long, terrible moment where he wondered if she would refuse. He currently didn’t have a Plan B. With a sigh, she snatched the nickel, binding them in the strictures of the law. The doctor was in. I need the room.

Gary began walking away, pausing at the door to look back at the Landis siblings. Professor Brown was already standing. The man could be as quiet as a church mouse when he wanted to be. I’ll start the car.

Goodnight my love, Julianne Jones said, a flicker of emotion crossing that stony face.

Love you, Professor Brown said and then winked at Dan. It had never occurred to Dan how similar the voices of Leroy Brown and Gary Jones sounded. So, either his sister had suddenly decided to open up her marriage, or...

I think you might have an infestation problem, Dan said as the door closed behind the two men, My nose is itching and it only does that for ragweed and cockroaches.

This building was just sprayed two weeks ago, Julianne said and pointed at the phone. This office is insect free.

That’s good. I know how disturbing it can be to have creepy crawlies only a hairsbreadth away.

Indeed. Julianne handed him a letter. It was on a plain legal pad. He recognized her tight, utilitarian handwriting. There were three pages. He went to take it, but she pulled it away. With her other hand, she held up the envelope of money. The big, fat binding agreement between a filthy rich attorney and a near-broke detective. Integrity didn't pay a lot of bills. He took the envelope.

The top of the first page read, Gertie, what you’re about to read could get me killed or worse yet, disbarred——J. Dan looked up into her cold pale eyes, nodded, and glanced at the filing cabinet. There were new locks on them. R7150’s, used a hybrid of key and numerical combination. He had the prototype in his office. It was amazing what you could pick up at conventions. He glanced back at the note, and nearly jumped out of his skin. The bottom of the first page read, Stop picking my locks or I’m calling Mom.

He looked at his sister in horror. She raised one eyebrow. He flipped to the next page. As he suspected, this was a burn after reading type of letter. By the last page his hands had started to tremble. The yellow pages rattled. Jules reached out, her hand closing around his. He gave her thin fingers a gentle squeeze and finished the final page. Dan set the letter down and ran his fingers through his raven hair. She smiled at the familiar gesture. 

Bastards, he mouthed. He had forgotten how brave his sister was. He caught her glance, saw the forced smile. He had seen that expression many times in the mirror. She was brave, smart, made of steel, and could be a complete idiot sometimes. He relaxed his mouth, let out a breath, and asked. So, you want to open a restaurant?

Yes. She hadn’t let go of his hand.

I assume Gary has told you how bad of an idea that is. Do you know the failure rate of food service in this area?

I have a business plan.

I’m happy for you, he said, holding up page three. As a small business owner, I do have some thoughts, if you’d like to hear them.

It’s my plan, her voice was even with a cold edge. He could almost see the dial in her brain spinning from polite to ruthless, becoming the terror of the courtroom. For the briefest second her eyes sparked, pleading with him. Whether it was to argue or agree, Dan couldn’t tell. And I can pull it off with or without your small business advice.

She had a point. He was a mere cog, a job that a trained monkey could do. The risk was hers. With or without him, his sister was about to take a flying leap into danger. By...opening a restaurant.

There’s no way I can talk you out of this. It wasn’t really a question. She nodded. It wasn’t a great answer. Then you have got yourself a fry cook. I’m great for when the heat is on. He moved the third page back and forth, his finger pointing at a list of names. Dan could count his real friends, his Nakama, his family, on one hand. Four of them were on that list. The first name had just hired him. Two had just been in this office, one was playing hooky from the E.R. and on her way to London. The fifth person, the one not on the list, was asleep on Jules’ couch. She always looked so beautiful when she was asleep.

You have to find the right people for each station. The voice was calm, cool, collected. The kind of voice that could effortlessly recite the most complex of legal loopholes, so her scumbag of a clientele could get out of virtually any charge.

No, He knew that wasn’t something Julianne Boom-Boom Jones heard very often. I don’t mind risking my neck for your business venture. ...

You think I don’t know the risks? Her voice was reaching sub-zero. He kept eye contact, trying not to blink. Which was harder than it looked on TV.

I think you win too much. You forget what it’s like to lose, what happens if you don’t grab the brass ring.

Every detective has a little voice in their heads. For Dan Landis, that little voice was his now dead partner, Maggie. And his little voice was telling him, rather emphatically, that he was on thin ice.

Except, he thought, last time we were on thin ice, it was Jules that went under, not me. And I technically died saving her. Should I call that marker in?

No, said his little voice.

Maybe, Jules said, her voice cool, with a faint touch of pain around the fringes. It’s possible that I have won too much. That I’ve gotten too good at my job. Maybe I have a few too many notches on my belt. But, I’ve always counted on the people around me to keep me grounded, kept me from losing perspective. This, she paused, restaurant is very important to me. To do this, I will need certain assets. And you. Especially you. Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope.

Dan didn’t crack a smile, but it was a near thing. When did you want to start working on this restaurant?

Next year, she replied. "We’re still in a holding pattern. You know how these things go. Bureaucracy."

He nodded. Yeah. Paperwork. Well, I have this thing for New Year’s.

I heard. What are you doing?

I’m going to Warrenton, Virginia. A late Christmas gift.

What’s in Warrenton? Jules asked.

John S. Mosby museum. Dan replied.

The Gray Ghost? She broke through her façade, her face reacting as if she had just swallowed sour milk. I thought you hated when...Dad took us on those field trips. After all these years, it was still hard for her to talk about him. The man had poured himself into their broken little family. Some men brought flowers. Francis Burton had brought historical factoids. Hard to put that on a card.

I did, he smiled, but, we’ve never been there, it’s in driving distance, and there’s a bed & breakfast called ‘The Gray Ghost Inn’. He held up the envelope, weighing it in one hand. And now I can pay for it. Here’s a thought, why not instead of a restaurant, you can open a bed and breakfast.

She stared at him inscrutably, I’ll think about it. In the meantime, you’re accepting the job?

I am, he said. He pointed at the names and slowly shook his head no.

We can tackle this next year.

Fine with me, Dan agreed.

Bringing anyone with you, on the trip?

He sighed. Abbey, the sleeping beauty, had wormed her way into their little trip. He had been hoping to take Doc to Warrenton alone.

Things had gotten complicated.

Gertie, Jules asked, why are you really going to Warrenton?

Dan swallowed. This was why he hated talking to his sister. She was a walking polygraph machine. It’s been a tough year for everyone. I thought a quiet little New Year’s would be nice. The important thing about lying was, always mix it with a certain amount of truth. "Now, it’s a three person trip. So I’m going to be stuck in BFE with two of the smartest people I know. I’ll probably bring my portable DVD player and watch Prime Suspect. On the plus side, you’ll have the house empty for New Year’s."

Dan smiled stretched the kinks out, trying not to meet his sister’s eyes. He slipped out the door, closing it behind him. He didn’t want to dive into the shenanigans that were about to go down at the Gray Ghost Inn. That was a time bomb that could wait until tomorrow.

Just one more thing, Gary said, and Dan nearly jumped out of his skin. The big man was most definitely not in the car. Instead, he was standing at the desk of Marsha, your friendly neighborhood secretary. Marsha was presumably at home asleep, knitting, or whipping muscular man with a cat o’nine tails. Gary, with his wrinkly coat, like a six foot four mustachioed Columbo. If Columbo had an amazing tan. The big man pulled a manila envelope from his coat pocket, handing it over. Consider it a Christmas bonus.

Dan knew it wasn’t payment for his gig playing bodyguard for Santa Claus, or catching the Kringle Killer. He still needed to submit the invoices for those. He opened the envelope, and noted the sheet of paper. An ugly mugshot stared back at him.

You’re the only one who can find him, Gary offered. I’ve heard he’s instrumental to starting a new restaurant.

Dan looked down at the sneering face of Tex, the mountain of a man who specialized in arm robbery and snapping uppity detectives in half. I’m sure he makes a great falafel.

Relax, said his little voice, what could possibly go wrong?

Chapter 2

The Present

Wednesday, December 28

This is a bad idea, Dan’s little voice said. He nodded in agreement. The door shut behind him, and he continued walking into the bar. It was full. Way too full. You never want to confront someone in a full bar. Too many witnesses, too many participants, too much trouble. Which was why he had chosen three in the afternoon on a Wednesday. Go figure. With only three days until New Years, apparently everyone wanted to get their drunk on before the big rush. The music continued to play.

Dan was glad there was no record scratches. He hated clichés. No one turned to watch him enter. The bar was full of men. Manly men who could beat a scrawny little pipsqueak like Mama Landis’ favorite son senseless without even breathing hard. Even the bar’s lone woman looked like she could bench press a Volvo.

The place was called Taps, but with a Z for flavor. As Dan headed for the bartender, he imagined that flavor was bourbon. He took in the place without looking around. It was a cultivated instinct. Observation was an important tool for private investigators, and since a career with the Rockettes hadn’t worked out, he had gotten very good at being a P.I.

This is a terrible idea, the little voice reiterated.

Tapz was a little hole in the wall on the west side, six blocks up from the docks. There were a dozen or so warehouses, streets that would do a ghost town proud, and an army of rusting cranes. The economic downturn had hit this town hard. He wondered if everyone was in here to toast the good times of backbreaking work and lousy hours. It was as blue collar as a bar could get, and as cheerful as a tax audit.

So, the little voice wondered, what’s a cowboy like him doing here?

Dan kept one eye on his mark, not daring to relax for a second. He kept his back to the room and his eyes on the big mirror. Tex was big and beefy, with blond hair the color of straw and a heavy duster jacket.

In fairness, Dan thought, armed robbery is a blue-collar job. He adjusted the sleeve of his flannel shirt. Flannel and jeans had been a good call; it was apparently the unofficial dress code. The place was like a sea of corduroy. Taking a seat on the stool, Dan realized he was the youngest person here by a good ten years. Tex included. Also, there was no cushion on the stool, and the wood was cold.

His steel toed boot scraped the sawdust on the floor. Between the boots and the weighted gloves he had on, he figured that his chances of getting out alive were 50-50. He looked down the bar at his target. The man called Tex was still nursing his beer. His real name was Mortimer Hasselberg, though no one dared call him that.

As far as Dan knew, Mama Hasselberg was the only one who called him Mortimer. Tex was large, hulking, and dangerous. The big man normally