The Key: Thriller, #1

By Bill Silfvast

Jennifer is a former NYPD homicide detective and co-owner with her former FBI agent husband, of a corporate investigative business. But, is spending time on the beach at Pawley's Island in South Carolina attempting to recover from the tragic automobile accident that took the life of her husband and daughter.  While walking barefoot on the beach, she steps on a partially buried key in the sand.  Coincidentally she later finds that the key opens a post office box near her own.  The secrets found in that box lead to a trail of intrigue, drug trafficking and murder. 

Meanwhile, a romance begins when, shortly after stepping on the key, she waves to a shy, good-looking man walking the beach with his Golden Retriever.  She's initially attracted to him, in spite of trying to avoid any relationships so soon after her husband's death.  A romantic relationship begins to develop, while at the same time they combine their talents in the investigation of a murder.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sigma press
• Release date: Dec 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386295273

Book preview

Chapter One

Another day of painful memories.  When will this end? For a loss like mine, some say the feelings can hang on for a year or more.  But can I last that long?

She couldn’t get rid of her thoughts about the dreadful accident. That drunk driver running a stop sign and T-boning their car.  Losing both her husband and young daughter at one time was almost more than she could bear.  Staying on the beach for a month hadn’t helped much. Yet walking in this picturesque setting definitely cheered her up.  There was something mesmerizing about the morning sun reflecting on the water, the sea grasses blowing in the wind, and the smell of the salty ocean spray.

Ouch!. What did I step on? Please, not a crab. After a couple of steps she realized her foot hurt.

Hopping over to a nearby warning sign, she grabbed the post, lifted her foot, and noticed a redness on the underside near her big toe. She rubbed the area, took a few more steps and decided it wasn’t that bad. Turning around, she saw a shiny metal object just barely visible in the sand. That must have been it, she said as she walked back and picked it up. Definitely not a crab.

It was a key. The numbers stamped on one side made it look official, similar to her post office box key. Putting it in her back pocket, she’d figure out what to do with it when she returned to the condo. The incident temporarily distracted her from her grief as she continued on her walk.

Limping along, she was able to relax a bit. With the wind blowing, she was glad she’d tied her hair back. She was comfortable in her white shorts and sleeveless aqua top, opened at the neck, but not too far. A feeling of being somewhat skimpily dressed but not too immodest. And no makeup at age thirty four.

A man was approaching with his dog, a beautiful Golden Retriever. When he threw a ball, the dog leaped into action.

He was wearing blue shorts, and he was definitely attractive. Rather tall with sun-bleached brown hair that hung across his brow.  Nice complexion and a shadow beard. Ah yes, the latest style for men. But that was not her thing right now: looking at guys. Her mind was filled with thoughts of Jeff, her man.  A stud, she’d thought, from th first moment they met.

As the man passed by he gave a shy wave.  She acknowledged with a nod and a smile, and then moved on. Umm, nice-looking guy.

The pier was nearly a mile ahead, and she was determined to get there, despite her injured foot. While on her walks she loved looking at the beach houses. Each was distinctive and unique. Some were one story, some two -- mostly blue-gray or brown. Some were planked and others were shakes but all had large decks and peaked roofs.

Up ahead, a two-story gray shake house had a deck on the second floor that was draped with banners proclaiming ‘Save Our Environment.’ A great idea but what good would they do? At least they made the occupants feel good.

Walking farther along she could see the brown shake house with the elderly couple sitting on their deck. They waved, as always. A happy couple enjoying their retirement. Something she and Jeff would never be able to do.  The thought brought tears to her eyes. That’s not fair. I didn’t do anything to deserve this, and certainly Jeff and Kelly didn’t. We were a happy family. And then, all of a sudden we weren’t.

Come on gal, let’s get moving. Glancing down, she decided her foot was good enough to make it to the pier.  With squared-up shoulders she began a determined march onward, thinking about getting her usual coffee and croissant. That would cheer her up.

The pier was a favorite place. She loved the way it stretched out into the ocean. The large support structures, with the artistic cross braces, were made from trees that she knew had once been beautiful and stately.

If only they could have known what their purpose would be when they matured.Now they provide a place for people to hang out and fish -- and a perfect place for Little Joe’s Coffee Bar and a restaurant.  That’s much better than being sliced up to become part of a house.  But houses are important too. Oh -- there goes my overactive mind again.

At the pier, a series of steps led from the beach to the deck. It was a short climb and then a walk out to Little Joe’s. She had to be careful on the wooden planks, not wanting to catch any splinters.

Fortunately she made it safely to ‘Joe’s,’ as she’d come to call it. There was only one person at the coffee bar.  Good. I won’t have to talk to anyone except Joe, and he’s harmless. she thought.

Hi Joe.

Hi Ma’am. Good to see you. What’ll you have today?  Your usual low-fat latte and a croissant? He was a short Italian man, with dark hair and whiskers on a crusty face. He’d obviously spent time in the sun.

You got it. I wish I had your memory.

In my business you need a good memory. Anyway, I could never forget what a beautiful blue-eyed woman like you usually orders

Why do you always cheer me up?

It’s my pleasure Ma’am.

She sat down at one of the tables overlooking the water.  The crashing waves were doing their job with a soothing sound. But they also brought back memories of earlier, happier times.

Her coffee and croissant arrived on a small tray.  Here you are. I hope this will help get some of that sadness out of your eyes.

I guess it shows. She said.

And would I be imposing too much if I asked your first name? I feel like I sort of know you, and since you already know mine, could we make it mutual?

She laughed. Of course. My name is Jennifer.

Jennifer. It’s a pleasure to know you and knowing your name has made my day. After shaking her hand, he returned to the counter to get ready for the lunch crowd.

She felt very comfortable, and Joe had a lot to do with that. A nice man. He seemed to accept her as though he’d known her for years; becoming a friend and yet never trying to pry into her life.

In her condo she often felt alone, and maybe that wasn’t the best thing. She’d have to get involved in something. Be with people more often.

The croissant and coffee tasted extra good, especially in this peaceful setting, with the view of the ocean.

She didn’t feel like going back to New Jersey quite yet. John seemed to be doing a good job with the business. Of course he had to scale things down, with both her and Jeff missing.

The more she thought about it she wasn’t sure she could ever go back to her job. The J & J Investigations business she and her husband started could never be the same without him. Five senior employees, including John, were enough to cover while she was taking this break. After the accident, going back to work for two months hadn’t worked.  It was too upsetting. The company was better off without her for a while.  John agreed, encouraging her to take time off.

As she sat there, she reflected on her company. J & J was well respected in the industry, handling only corporate and other business clients, not divorces or insurance investigations.  Industrial espionage was their primary focus, and with Jeff’s background as an FBI agent and hers as a homicide detective, their skills had overlapped nicely. The two of them worked so well together, partly because of their feelings for each other and partly because of their competence. It was a marriage made in heaven.

Then the accident. The most devastating part was the loss of their little daughter who Jennifer thought was the most perfect child.  All parents think that way, but Kelly was so well behaved and loving.  Who could ask for anything more? She was very bright, a wonderful gift. Jennifer missed her terribly.

Back to reality. Time to return to the condo. She needed to check with John about several business matters.  And she was still dealing with insurance companies. Fortunately the other driver had sufficient insurance.  Between Jeff’s life insurance and the accident insurance, she might be financially comfortable for life.

She couldn’t even think of going back to New Jersey, but she still enjoyed being productive and especially helping others. So what could she do? She had no idea.

Getting up from her chair, she walked over to the counter. See you tomorrow Joe.

Bye now, Jennifer. Next time you stop by, the coffee’s on me.

You’re a sweetheart. I’ll take you up on that.

Back to the mainland. The long pier was a fun place. People strolling, or hanging over the railing, or dangling their fishing lines in the water hoping for a big strike. She wished them luck. Dressed in shabby jeans and t-shirts, some looked like they could use it. While passing one especially bedraggled-looking man, she discreetly slipped a twenty-dollar bill into his backpack and wished him positive thoughts. She sighed, thinking she could use some herself.

Heading up the beach she was a little more light-hearted.  Even her foot felt better. It must have been Joe and his upbeat personality that cheered her up. She’d have to thank him the next time she saw him, which would most likely be tomorrow.

She passed the couple still sitting on their deck and received another wave, to which she again responded.  She should stop and chat with them sometime.

As she approached her condo, she realized she was close to the area where she’d hurt her foot.  It was somewhere near the sign, but knowing where it was didn’t matter anymore.

The condo she rented was part of a modern two-story building. Except for the sand dunes and the sea grasses sprouting randomly, there was nothing to interfere with her view of the ocean. The building had planked siding painted a pale yellow, with large modern windows and white trim, definitely not blending into the beach scene.  Not a classic structure like the others, which were all made of weathered wood with low railings around the decks.

⁠Climbing the deck stairs, she felt a sudden urge to slouch onto the chaise lounge. She didn’t want to go inside to face the day since her condo did not feel particularly inviting right now. It was nicely decorated, with lots of large windows to let the light in, and nice furnishings, but it lacked a homey feeling. It was more like what she’d find in a typical hotel room, with inexpensive prints of classic paintings hanging on the walls, and she’d stayed in plenty of those while on the job.

When she stretched out onto the lounge, she felt something hard underneath her.  It was the key she’d stepped on. She’d completely forgotten about it. Pulling it out of her back pocket, she turned it over and began wondering what kind of a story it could tell? Who had lost it? Wouldn’t it be nice if she could get it to its owner?  She’d have to think about how to do that. In the meantime, a brief rest was in order.

Finally, getting up and going inside, she casually dropped the key onto her desk and noticed the similarity to her own post office box key. When she’d arrived at the beach she’d rented a box to avoid having mail forwarded directly to her condo. She didn’t want people tracking her.

Looking more closely at her own key, she could see it was almost identical to the one she’d found. When collecting her mail the next morning, she’d take the beach key with her and try to slide it into her box. Of course she knew it wouldn’t open it, but if it slid in, that might suggest it was a post office box key. And it might even belong to one of the boxes in her post office. The owner might live nearby so that locating him or her might be easier than she’d thought.

Chapter Two

Too bad the sun has to come up in the East. It was shining directly on the white curtains, waking her even though they were closed. They didn’t do a very good job of blocking it.  In her drowsy state, she thought that if the sun were to go the other way around the earth it wouldn’t awaken her in the morning but instead would shine into her kitchen window.  She suddenly realized she wasn’t quite awake. What was she thinking? Of course I know the earth orbits around the sun. In her sleepy state of mind she wasn’t thinking straight.

Turning over in her bed, she pulled the quilt over her head. Another April day to deal with. The same routine, day after day. Why couldn’t something change? Maybe I could try harder to think positive thoughts.

After lying there for a few moments, she pulled herself up, slipped her legs over the edge of the bed and sat there. Brushing the sleep out of her eyes, she could see her messy room. Not enough energy lately to keep it cleaned up.

She stood and headed for the bathroom. It was a fairly large room with a nice walk-in shower and two sinks, as if she needed both of them. But the lighting was good over the large mirror.

A warm washcloth smothered her face while a brush helped move her dark blond hair back into a ponytail. She felt better.

Returning to the bedroom and pulling back the curtain, she looked out and saw the ocean trying to speak to her in its strong crashing wave voice. Cheer up.  She decided to give it another try. A new day.

Slipping into her shorts and a t-shirt, she wandered into the living room, or family room, or whatever they wanted to call it. She no longer had a family so it was the living room. A place for the TV and stereo and also where she could try to relax, when she was able to. When that happened, which was rare these days, it occurred in a comfortable brown leather recliner.

A small nook was located between the living room and the kitchen. It wasn’t closed off like a den might be.  Instead it had a very open feeling due to the large bay window that provided a partial view of the ocean. A cherry-colored wooden desk, cluttered with bills and other paperwork, fit into the window area. Also lying on it was the key she’d found in the sand. Or had it found her? She made a mental note to figure out what to do with it.

She moved into the kitchen for a much needed cup of coffee. That portion of the condo faced the front and wasn’t very large. But she certainly had no complaints other than she badly needed her coffee, which she quickly initiated in the Keurig. A French Roast pod readily slid in. She was amazed watching the device make such a good cup. The water line was directly attached, so she didn’t even have to fill the machine. And after her first cup she could easily switch to a medium roast since she wouldn’t need that extra caffeine boost.

She did admire the kitchen features. Plenty of cherry wood cabinets. Above the sink was a green-house-type bay window facing the parking area. She definitely didn’t consider herself a plant person, so she’d put two hearty philodendrons there to brighten up the area.

After putting her vitamins on the counter, she grabbed a donut and settled onto the bar stool for her ‘continental’ breakfast. That first jolt of coffee did wonders. And later she might have room for a croissant at Joe’s, since she’d consider that a mid-morning snack. She was careful about her weight but had a weakness for croissants and donuts.

She thought about what was on the docket for the day? For sure, to get in touch with John about the General Robotics case. They appeared to be making significant progress with the investigation.

Also the other driver’s insurance company was finally getting close to the amount her attorney thought she deserved. That should make her feel good, but it really didn’t. Money didn’t interest her right now. It wasn’t a consolation for her ruined life.

Getting to the post office to pick up her mail was a must. She was expecting a prescription for anti-anxiety pills that helped her get to sleep. They didn’t always do the trick, but just knowing they were available gave her some relief.

After her second cup of coffee, she felt better.  Putzing around the condo seemed to help. Only then did she feel like settling down at her desk to begin tackling the day.

She gave a start when her cell phone rang. Hi John.  What’s up?

John informed her that the hidden microphone in the General Robotics employee’s apartment had paid off. While the guy was on his phone, he’d mentioned something to another person about the company’s proprietary software, and one of their staff was attempting to identify that person.

That’s great, John. Can we use our inside contact at the cell phone company to get his name?

He said that was their next step.

Keep me posted on what’s happening. That’s very good work.

John filled her in on a couple of other less crucial cases, and they completed their conversation with pleasantries.

She was glad he’d called. What great progress. She reviewed the case in her mind. This had been a very tough one. General Robotics had almost terminated their contract because her company wasn’t getting anywhere. But then the break came when the employee dropped his guard. He left a notepad by his phone on which he’d scratched a phone number, pressing hard enough that it hopefully had transferred through to the next sheet of paper. They entered his apartment illegally to get the number. That was something their skilled people were good at. They hoped it was the phone number of the guy he’d been speaking with. They didn’t like to do illegal things on a regular basis, but when investigations became crucial, they had no choice.

One more call and she could be off on her trip to the store and the post office.

Hello. Is this Max Carpenter? This is Jennifer McCrea calling regarding the automobile accident claim.

Let me get your file. She waited while he took a few minutes to retrieve it. Coming back on the line, he told her that their final offer was five million dollars, disbursed in annual payments of five-hundred-thousand.

Fine. I’ll settle for that! I believe that was the amount we suggested in the first place, so I’d like to proceed. What’s the next step?

He gave her the information. She thanked him and hung up. Whew.  That’s finally settled. One less thing to worry about. That settlement and Jeff’s three million dollar life insurance policy should take care of me for the rest of my life.

She didn’t know whether to be cheered up by getting things settled, or more depressed as a result of putting a monetary value on Jeff’s and Kelly’s lives.  Of course no amount of money could even begin to take away her grief.

She still had days when she’d think of them and break out crying. Her wonderful little girl she’d never see again. And Jeff.  What a great life they’d had together. Putting away the photos that were on her desk helped her focus more on the present, and more importantly, on the future. She couldn’t face seeing their pictures in the morning without ruining her day.

Gathering her shopping list and post office box key, and the one she’d found, she headed out the door and slid into the driver’s seat of her Honda CRV rental car. She’d grown to like the smaller car and also the SUV style of being higher off of the ground. First stop was the post office.

Located on Second Street, it had a large parking area in front and a drive-up box next to the sidewalk.  A typical long gray government building with two entry doors, one for post office boxes and the other for counter service. She parked and went in. Box number 1182 wasn’t written on her key, most likely for security purposes.  There was, however, an identification number stamped on it, similar to the one on the key she’d found.

Her box was about waist high in the middle of a wall of boxes, all numbered in black with gray metal door fronts and trim. She slid the key into her lock, turned it, and pulled the door open. Her box was nearly empty. Only a few bills and a bank statement. The catalogs hadn’t caught up with her yet.

The mail went into her large brown leather purse and it was then that she remembered the other key at the bottom. Although she thought it looked very similar to her own key, she wasn’t sure. Taking it out, she tried slipping it into the slot in her box. It went in easily, but of course it wouldn’t turn. She presumed any key of that style might slide into similar locks of that same manufacturer.  The fact that it went in didn’t necessarily mean it was a post office box key.  Without thinking she pulled it out and tried it in one of the adjacent boxes, to no avail.  Then, just for a lark, she tried it in a few more.

When she got to the fourth box to the right, BINGO! The lock opened. It startled her so much that she immediately re-locked it, looking around to make sure no one saw her. No one was there. What should she do now? She’d have to think about that. Box number 350.  She hurried outside, realizing that she’d done something illegal. Since she’d worked in law enforcement for so many years, this shouldn’t bother her. But it did.

She got into her CRV and exited the parking lot. She was still trying to process what had happened. This key had actually unlocked someone’s post office box! So what’s next? At least I didn’t get caught. Meanwhile, on to the grocery store and try to settle down. She’d definitely have to skip going to Joe’s.

It was the only grocery store on the island. Paul’s, it was called. They had a good selection of food items, not much on the gourmet side but sufficient for most staples. One had to go to Myrtle Beach to get a better selection.

While strolling down the aisles and stopping to examine the cheese selection, she realized she’d been thinking about the key. She wouldn’t want to give the key to one of the post office employees. They wouldn’t tell her who owned the box. And they might not do anything with it. Or if they tried to do something, maybe the owner couldn’t be reached. Then the mail would just sit there. And maybe it included some important papers.

She decided she had to go back and get the owner’s name from some of the mail in the box. There would only be a post office box number 350 as the address, so she still wouldn’t know how to contact the owner. But if she had a name, she might be able to track the person down. There were ways to do that in her profession and she was good at it.

The post office didn’t appear to be busy when she arrived during the middle of the afternoon. No one was in the box area. Even if someone had been there, they’d have no way of knowing 1186 wasn’t hers.

Walking up to the boxes, she slid the key into the 350 slot and swung the door open. The box was about half full.  Reaching for the top envelope, she looked for a name. It was addressed to a Carl L. Paxton. Not a name she recognized. Memorizing the name, she quickly replaced the envelope, closed the door, and went marching outside at a relatively brisk pace.

This is getting interesting. I feel like I’m back on a case. Who is Carl Paxton? I think a Google search might be in order.

Chapter Three

On her way back to the condo, Jennifer was thinking about the surprise at the post office. Just the fact that the box was located so close to her own was mind blowing. Was this meant to be? And the fact that she’d decided to try testing the key in the nearby boxes. That wasn’t like her.  She wasn’t a snoopy person. And yet she’d done it.

Concentrate on your driving, Jennifer, she said.

Pulling into her parking area and gathering the two bags of groceries, she headed for the front door. While struggling to hold the bags with one arm, and reaching for her condo key with her free hand, she almost grabbed the ‘beach key,’ as she now referred to it. Finally finding her own key, she slipped it into the lock and pushed the door open while balancing the bags.  It was good to be back in her place. She put everything down on the kitchen counter and rubbed her temples. The experience at the P.O. was too taxing. Why is this happening? Accidentally stepping on a key while walking on the beach. Testing the key in the boxes next to mine. What’s going on?

A glass of wine would help calm her down. There was a bottle of Kendall-Jackson Chardonnay in the fridge. She might even be able to increase her wine budget when the insurance money starts coming in. But money wasn’t important to her right now.

After a few sips, she began getting dinner together, a tilapia filet with linguini, and a salad. She sautéed the tilapia, added some white wine, chopped shallots, lemon juice and sherry vinegar to make a sauce and poured it over