The Case of the Dead Detective: Jonas Watcher, #4

By Gene Poschman

Who killed Mickey Phillips?

   

 Jonas Watcher went to the docks in search of some fresh clam chowder. There was a sudden gust of cold wind. Jonas shivered. Was it the wind or something more ominous. Jonas glanced around. He spotted two men who appeared nervous each time he looked in their direction. He was being followed. Neither man seemed threatening, and Jonas was curious about them. He decided to engage the pair in a game of cat and mouse, which led back to his office.

 

     The encounter in his office wasn't what Jonas expected. After a discussion with the two men over some coffee laced with Irish Whiskey, Jonas uncovered a surprising revelation. Mickey Phillips knew who Jonas Watcher was. It may have been why he was murdered. 

 

     This disclosure sent Jonas on a journey to Sacramento with his newly acquired girlfriend, Mei Lin Fong, and her family butler Charles. 

 

     A simple phone call resulted in the trio being put under surveillance that took an ominous turn.

 

     In the 1930s, German intelligence guided disgruntled activists with a plan focused on keeping the United States out of the current conflict in Europe. These spies added a new item to the top of their agenda. Kill Jonas Watcher.

 

     Jonas needed the help of Solomon to solve the mystery of Mickey Phillips's murder, and he finds him wearing a rumpled fedora and a tan overcoat.

 

     The Notorious Mr. Smith, Sol Jacobi, and Jonas Watcher take on german intelligence from the Third Reich in 1930s Sacramento.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gene Poschman
• Release date: Jul 24, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386083061

Gene Poschman

I am a native Californian who married my high school sweetheart. We are still married; why she puts up with me is still a mystery. I have always been an avid watcher of film noir, mysteries, and other detective crime fiction as well as science fiction and fantasy. I read quite a bit, which would probably surprise a number of my elementary school teachers. I would have been a better reader earlier if Dick and Jane were detectives, or at least, a wizard and witch. Like a lot of writers I write because I need to. Also as a kid, I was such a liar. I didn't lie about important stuff. I just made up stories. I was told the story of the boy who cried wolf constantly. At least five different versions. It doesn't happen well for the kid in any of them. I still make up stories, but because I put them in books, I'm not a liar, I am a novelist or author.  The Jonas Watcher series is rooted in the novels of Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammett. My style is a little lighter and laced with my own quirky sense of Humour.    I identify this genre as Adventures, some Detective, and some Spy. M'Lady's Gentlemen is a departure for me. I have left the noir of the Nineteen Thirties and stepped into the Victorian age; my main character is a woman and she is a spy. The rest is subject to change on my personal whim.

Book preview

On a Cool Spring Day,

The Sisters Fate Came Calling

I WANTED CLAM CHOWDER and sourdough bread for lunch, so I headed to the Wharf to fill that gastronomic need. It was a nice summer morning, and I was enjoying the walk towards the Embarcadero. I turned the corner, and there was a gust of wind that brought a chill to my bones. The clouds in the sky seemed grayer; the shiver came from the bay. I felt uncomfortable, then I recognized my surroundings.

It was like coming home to a place I never wanted to see again. I stopped and considered going back to the office, but in the distance, across the road on the bayside, was a diner that had a sign advertising fresh seafood. Hell, it was what I was looking for. I shrugged and headed toward it.

There was a row of bars on my left that I used to hang out in. Across the street was the pier where I almost met my maker at the hands of Martin Stanton. Since Josiah Smith had removed that ghost from my past, I should have been able to shake off my feeling of dread.

One of my old favorite haunts was ahead on the left, and I knew I could pass by it with my head held high. I was winning my battle with alcohol.

Two men came out of the bar and headed in my direction. When they saw me, they immediately turned and walked away from me. That was odd, I thought. I didn’t especially recognize them. I passed the bar, checked the road, and crossed to the diner. It was one of those railway cars or an imitation that was converted into a small eatery. I walked to an end stool and turned my back to the wall with the counter on my right. Ever since Bill Hickok got shot in the back, I kept my back away from doors. I laughed to myself; Hickok had been killed twenty plus years before I was born. Still, it was good practice in my line of work. It also let me look out the window.

The waitress was a little young for me, but she clearly liked what she saw. She handed me a menu.

Is there something I can get you? she asked.

I hadn’t even had time to read the menu.

Some iced tea to start with, I said.

She smiled and had a little added sway as she went to get me some tea. Another man called for attention. Her attitude towards him was definitely frosty. I smiled. I decided to fulfill my original craving. I knew the bread was baked fresh locally because its aroma filled the diner, causing my mouth to water.

The waitress returned and set down my tea on a paper doily with a phone number written on it. I would just leave it under my glass when I left. As I placed my order, I noticed that the two men from earlier walked past the diner. They were trying too hard to seem nonchalant. My chowder arrived with an additional waft of perfume. A pleasant scent, but I was going to have to find a diplomatic way to leave after paying the bill.

The two men were across the street when they walked past the diner again. The third time is enemy action. I finished my meal, signaled the waitress, and put down a fin.

You’re incredibly attractive, I said as I passed her. But I am a one-woman man, and she wouldn’t approve of you and I getting together.

The waitress gave a slight stamp of her foot.

If you ever find yourself free, consider letting me know.

I smiled and nodded.

I headed for the door and unbuttoned my coat.

Hey, Mister, the waitress yelled, this is too much.

I turned.

You keep it, I said.

My coat slipped open, exposing the butt of my Colt. The waitress took a step back.

Whoa!

I looked her in the eyes.

It’s legal, and I have a permit. As long as it’s in my holster, you are perfectly safe.

She smiled.

Yeah, but I’ll bet you’re not, she said.

I nodded and stepped outside. I quickly scanned the streets. I spotted my shadows walking away from me.

The Sisters Fate had decided they were not through with me. It was my turn to take charge regardless of their laughter.

I decided to watch my shadows for a bit. I headed in their direction and kept a bit of distance. I wasn’t trying to shadow them; I was just interested in where they were going and how they’d react when they realized I was following them.

At first, they were just walking, but then their walking pattern became erratic. The two men knew I was behind them. Oddly, we were approaching my office building. I stepped up my pace. That frightened them, and they broke into a hard run. I altered my direction, heading towards my office. I would make a couple of calls to see who they were and why they were interested in me.

I arrived at my building and caught sight of them again. Either the two men knew who I was, or they backed tracked. My first impression, they weren’t a threat. Since I wasn’t working on anything, I didn’t think anyone wanted my moves traced. Still, I could be wrong.

I went up in the elevator and got off on my floor. If the two men were following me, they would be at the front of the building by now. I unlocked my office. Betty wasn’t here because she and David finally got to take that long-postponed vacation in Carmel. Their daughter Shanna was in school, so she wouldn’t be here either. I left the suite door open and went into my office. I left my office door open too. I sat down in my chair and put my Colt on my desk. Now all I had to do was wait. I leaned back in my chair and put my hand on the Colt. They didn’t keep me waiting long.

The two of them stood by the door for a few minutes. Finally, one of them stuck their head in.

Can we come in? he asked.

Sure, I said. Why not?

We don’ wanna get shot, he said.

You armed? I asked.

No, sir.

Then the odds of you getting shot just decreased considerably, I said.

Both men appeared and slowly stepped into the doorway with their hands exposed. I beckoned with my left hand for them to come in. Although they assured me they were unarmed, I have been lied to by their sort before. However, as they walked into the reception area, their level of potential threat dropped significantly. I picked up my Colt. They froze. I smiled and moving slowly, I holstered it.

The two men visibly sighed and relaxed.

You two want coffee? I asked.

They both stared at the coffee for a couple of moments. I almost laughed.

I have some Irish in my desk if that’ll help.

Each man quick-stepped to the coffeepot and poured himself a cup with cream and sugar. Then they stepped up to the front of my desk. I opened a drawer and pulled out the whiskey. Their cups were only half full of coffee, so I gave each a substantial amount of liquor. I motioned for them to sit.

Would one of you please close and lock the outer door? I asked.

They looked at each other as if trying to figure if they were