Witch Way

By CD Moulton

Lester Tatum was, since he was 8 years old, a male/child prostitute, sold by his mother. She is murdered. Lester finds a bankbook with 3 million dollars in it. He wants that money, but knows there isn't a lawyer he can trust. But there is this pretty young witch .... She has education in law and economics. Then more accounts. And blackmail. Was the actual killer the one they thought it was? Could a little psy talent find the truth?

• Language: English
• Publisher: CD Moulton
• Release date: Mar 14, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463662328

CD Moulton

Born in Florida, travelled the world as a rock guitarist with some big names in the late sixties, early seventies. Been everything from a high steel worker to longshoreman, from musician to bar owner, and much more. Educated in botany and genetics. Now living in paradise (Panamá!)

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Witch Way

© 2020 by C. D. Moulton

all rights reserved: no part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright holder/publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to actual persons or events are purely coincidental unless otherwise stated.

Lester Tatum had a small problem. He inherited a bank account of more than three million dollars, but knew he couldn’t use any lawyer within 150 kilometers of Kingston.

Could the local witch woman handle this kind of thing?

She was a lot of fun, and she was educated.

Worth a try!

Contents

A Small Problem

Appointment with A Witch

Bankers and Games

When Regular Methods Won’t Work

Complications Can Get Complicated

Sunset

About the author

CD was born in Lakeland, Florida, in 1938. He is educated in genetics and botany. He has traveled extensively, particularly when he was a rock rhythm guitarist with some well-known bands in the late sixties and early seventies. He has worked as a high steel worker and as a longshoreman, clerk, orchidist, bar owner, salvage yard manager, and landscaper and more.

CD began writing fiction in 1984 and has more than 300 books published in SciFi, murder, orchid culture, and various other fields.

He now resides in Gualaca, Chiriqui, Panamá, where he continues research into epiphytic plants and plays music with friends. He loves the culture of the indigenous people. He funds those he can afford through the universities, where they have all excelled. The Indios are very intelligent people, they are simply too poor (in material things and money. Culturally, they are very wealthy) to pursue higher education.

CD loves Panamá and the people, despite horrendous experiences (Free e-book; Fading Paradise). He plans to spend the rest of his life in the paradise that is Panamá

CD is involved in research of natural cancer cure at this time. It is based on a plant that has been in use for centuries, is safe, available, and cheap. Information about this cure is free on the FaceBook page: Ambrosia peruviana for cancer.

A Small Problem

Les Tatum snarled at the clock.

He would flush it, if it wasn’t far enough from the bed that it would wake him up with its high-pitched screech. That was the only way it could get him out of bed. If he could reach it from there, he would knock it off the shelf and probably throw it across the room – or something.

He was the type that would stay in bed all day, if he could.

Well, maybe not. The way he had to piss would soon have him up.

He groaned, got up, and turned the alarm off.

He was tempted to get back in the bed.

Why was he wide awake as soon as the sun went down, and asleep on his feet as soon as it came up?

He’d been that way since he was about 8 years old. His [single] mother was the head barmaid in Goofy’s Garden, all night bar/ restaurant on Coconut Street.

That was about two kilometers out of Kingston. It was a dump then, and it was a dump now.

An expensive dump.

Les was now the day manager. It was open 24 hours.

He didn’t know anything else. His mother had tried, but that was what he learned, by induction. The school was too far away, and didn’t turn out anybody prepared to live in a real place.

WTF good was algebra to a, face it, fancy bartender?

Social studies? Civics?

Great! He knew more or