The Portrait: Jess Thornton Detective, #3

By Jess Thornton

This novella is a tale of violence, with a touch of the supernatural set in La Crosse Wisconsin.  Jess Thornton and his friend Alexander rescue a young girl from an abuser, and end up antagonizing a whole 'cell' of illegal invaders.  

Even Jess's family becomes involved, and Jess and Alexander have their work cut out for them!  In fact, they would fail, were it not for a bit of the supernatural...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jess Thornton
• Release date: Jan 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386521242

Jess Thornton

Jess Eden Thornton is the author of several books on family, the post office past and present, and Americana.  His writings espouse traditional family values, while displaying the underlying humor in the family, neighborhood, and of working life. He also has written a few fantasy stories, one in collaboration with Robert E. Howard, the inventor of Conan. He resides in the driftless region of Wisconsin, deep in an isolated coulee.

Book preview

Riverside Park

Riverside Park, downtown La Crosse Wisconsin- it was the best of times- definitely not the worst in any way! I was strolling along with my best friend Alexander, on the sidewalk that surrounds that glorious park on the banks of the Mississippi, Black, and La Crosse rivers. The sun was glowing down upon us, as we walked along, smoking large cigars we had picked up at the Briar Patch on our way over from my office at the Hoeschler building on 5 th and Jay streets. We were doing nothing in particular; just resting up from our last case here on the mean streets of La Crosse Wisconsin, where blonde-haired gangs of Norwegian and German kids roam the streets, committing horrendous crimes .

Just kidding. La Crosse is one of the friendliest, safest, most beautiful, and just plain livable small cities in not only the U.S., but in the world- a great place to visit, but an even better place to call home! No gangs; in fact, not much real crime to speak of- and what does occur, usually from those who have come here from elsewhere, is swiftly halted and the perpetrators punished. Stopped. Incarcerated. Peace resumes, and the criminal is off the street! What a concept.

I stopped on the bank of the Mississippi, wandering off of the sidewalk into a gaggle of ducks clucking about my red tennis-shoed feet. I blew a large, fragrant ring of smoke into the air contentedly, pushing back the Brewers cap from my forehead. The large form of my friend came up beside me, and we both gazed out at the expanse of water flowing past us, glistening in the midsummer sun.

Care for a beer, Kemosabi? asked Alexander in his deep voice. A beer sounded wonderful just then. It was only about 11:00 AM, but then it was a Saturday, and we both still had flesh wounds and bruises from our last case.

I was just about to say yes, we should walk on over to Del’s bar up on Vine street- that’s when I heard the gun shot! I immediately looked around, and saw a dark man holding a cheap automatic handgun, and pointing it at a young blonde girl. Her face was terrified, her mouth held in an ‘oh’ of surprise and horror, her slim hands outstretched before her as if to fend off the attack. The first shot had been at a duck just beside her, which twitched and shuddered upon the ground as it slowly died.

You will obey me, or the next shot- and then the next- is for you! screamed the dark man. He had a strange accent, and his swarthy face was contorted with a righteous anger. He was raising the pistol again, right towards the girl.

I am quick to react, and at least above normal in reflexes- but I knew that I would never make it across that 50 yards or so before he shot that poor girl. Red tennies or not.

But, before I had even dropped my cigar, the large form of Alexander was sprinting effortlessly across that space. It was rather like watching a tiger racing after an unaware antelope, that one intent only upon imposing his will upon a small female of the species. I started running, pulling out my Ruger SP 101 as I went, training it on the man with the automatic.

The girl before the swarthy man had fallen to the grass, next to the bleeding duck that still twitched faintly, and sobbing said I only want to please you, Hasan! In response, that dark man reached out and, grasping the slim girl by her yellow hair, lifted her up as she moaned in pain.

"Your duty is my pleasure, Marta, and you have failed! His accent was such that he was plainly mideastern, Arabic of some sort, and the name was undoubtedly meant to be Martha in plain English. His face contorted into an angry leer, as he raised her contemptuously by her hair, relishing her small yelps of pain and outrage. He placed the barrel of his small, silver automatic pistol against her cheek, saying See what your prized beauty becomes when I send a bullet through your once beautiful face, you-"

His voice stopped, as a large, bronze hand grasped his own black hair, lifting him right off of his feet. Another large hand ripped the small pistol from his hand, thrusting it into the river behind him with a splash. I was roughly half-way to the scene, and could see all of this clearly. I had the dark man in my pistol sights, but I lowered my weapon. It appeared Alexander had the situation well in hand. I almost felt sorry for Asan, but then- not really. It’s just that Alexander really hates bullies of any