Ringer Blues

By Sylvia Nickels

Mitch Ringer almost quits the Fall Creek Police Force when his younger brother is murdered. He despises, Kay, his brother's former girlfriend, whose affair with their superior officer motivated the murder. But since he is contemplating marriage Mitch stays. Later Kay reveals that Mitch's brother fathered the baby she was carrying when he was killed and Mitch defends Kay and her son when the murderer escapes prison and comes after them. His own law enforcement career is cut short when Mitch himself is shot while on duty. After his forced retirement, Mitch and his unhappy wife open a cafe and when it prospers, she leaves him. Almost killed again when a statuesque redhead enters Mitch's life, he narrowly escapes a third time in saving the husband of the woman his brother loved.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sylvia Nickels
• Release date: Jun 3, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311883391

Sylvia Nickels

Sylvia Nickels was born and grew up in rural Georgia. She moved to Northeast Tennessee many years ago where she now lives and writes. Several of her stories and books are set in that area.

Book preview

Ringer Blues

By

Sylvia Maner Nickels

Copyright 2016

Sylvia Maner Nickels

Published by A Different Drummer Publishing USA at Smashwords

All rights reserved by the author. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the publisher. All stories in this volume are works of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Appearance and contents of this book are the sole responsibility of the author.

A Different Drummer Publishing USA

Table of Contents

Dead Ringer

Grand Ringer

Ringer Down

Lone Ringer

Ringer Home

Sylvia Bio

Dead Ringer

The three of us, me, Kanto, and Len left work at eight o'clock that Friday night in August. We were used up and antsy for a beer to help us unwind. With light traffic, we all arrived at The Rock House within minutes of each other and found parking spots. We headed for the bar.

Lois slid our beers across before we could ask. Booth should open up in a few minutes, boys.

Rob Kanto said he'd pay for the first round. He threw a ten spot on the bar. I stared at the bill. It had an outline of a bird, an owl, in blue ink drawn on one end. It was the one I'd tossed in the pot for Lieutenant Hellman's gift, which we'd delegated Kanto to buy. Ah, he probably put a twenty in the pot and took the ten in change. What the hell was I thinking, that Kanto would steal from his buddies?

To celebrate his transfer to Internal Affairs, we'd pitched a party for Lieutenant Hellman at six o'clock, just before he finished his last day at the precinct. Sergeant Brown had ordered cake and ice cream. The stripper Kanto hired did a wild bump-and-grind routine to loud rock music and bounced an improbably huge chest in Hellman's face. She grabbed his hand and brought it to the concealed front zipper of her low-cut red sequined gown. Her hips gyrated and the gown slithered down around her stiletto heels. In her tiny red lace panties and pasties, she dragged a feathery pink fan down Hellman's uniform, then kissed him hard on the mouth as he squirmed. After she left, Kanto presented him with the chrome motorcycle luggage rack from the squad.

Hey, Ringer. How'd you like my cousin? She's something else, right? Kanto slapped my arm as we headed to the locker room after the party wound down.

Huh? Your cousin's a stripper?

Yeah. She's my cousin, but she don't strip for a living. She offered to do it for kicks. Kanto opened his locker and threw his uniform belt in. I told her to be sure her costume was bright red. Think the Lieutenant liked it?

I guess. As much as he likes anything. You know him. I strapped my shoulder holster on and buttoned my shirt.

SOB. Phony. Kanto muttered, so low I barely heard him.

Huh? I'd heard Hellman called many things, but not a phony. He always said exactly what he thought. Our precinct had the cleanest record in town, but it was never enough. He found fault with every bust, interview, and report we did and implied we'd never do any better. Some of the guys said that made him the perfect IAD horses's ass.

Kanto didn't answer and before I could ask him again, my brother, Len, hurried into the locker room. Wait up while I change and we'll get a beer.

Sure. Get a move on.

By the time we'd finished our first beers, a booth emptied and we took it. Several other uniforms joined us and we unwound as we traded bull shit, half-watching the ball game on the set behind the bar. About midnight I cut out. I was doing a short change to graveyard shift Saturday night and needed to get some sleep. Len followed me out. Got Mom and Dad's anniversary present?

Oh, hell.

My kid brother grinned. Get Frankie to help you find something.

She's working. I'll get up early tomorrow afternoon and go to Bigold. What'd you get 'em?

Uh uh. Choose your own present, bro. You've known 'em longer than me. He jumped in his Camaro, slammed the door and locked it. I slapped the roof as he shoved it into gear and drove off down the street.

I was still standing at the curb when the Camaro stopped,

sat still for a minute, then reversed back toward me as fast as it had left.

I leaned down to his open window. Where's a cop when you need one? I oughta run you in.

I better go with you tomorrow. You'll buy Mom size 12 house slippers and we'll eat beans for a week. What time?

The alarm went off at four Saturday afternoon and I rolled out of bed. I had four hours before my shift started and with my track record at choosing gifts, I'd need them all. I met Len at the new Bigold at five and we wandered around, looking at anniversary cards, watches, and camping gear.

We were still in the camping department debating whether Mom would appreciate me giving Dad another fishing rod when I spotted Kanto across an aisle. He looked around, kind of furtive, but the rack of fishing rods between us blocked his view. He appeared to be looking at a display above his head, but I saw his right hand snag a jumbo pack of batteries from the shelf in front of him. He opened the package of batteries and slipped them into his pocket. I hoped to God no security camera was on him.

I'd heard the rumors around the station house that Kanto's wife, Kay, was becoming more high-maintenance than he could handle. But batteries? My eyes met Len's. They held a sick look so I knew he'd seen it, too.

Kanto had headed toward the front of the store and I jerked my head for us to follow. Len nodded. We trailed behind him as he walked toward the exit. I was hoping against hope he'd detour by a cashier and pay for the batteries. But no, he went on through the automatic doors. The sensors didn't start shrieking, so he must have ditched the package.

I picked up a pastry from the display