Neptune City

By Dale T. Phillips

When LA detective Jim Lloyd reluctantly returns to his NJ hometown for a final funeral, he is pulled into his troubled past, and a world of secrets, deceit, and danger.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Genretarium Publishing
• Release date: Mar 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393401117

Dale T. Phillips

A lifelong student of mysteries, Maine, and the martial arts, Dale T. Phillips has combined all of these into the Zack Taylor series. His travels and background allow him to paint a compelling picture of a man with a mission, but one at odds with himself and his new environment. A longtime follower of mystery fiction, the author has crafted a hero in the mold of Travis McGee, Doc Ford, and John Cain, a moral man at heart who finds himself faced with difficult choices in a dangerous world. But Maine is different from the mean, big-city streets of New York, Boston, or L.A., and Zack must learn quickly if he is to survive. Dale studied writing with Stephen King, and has published over 70 short stories, non-fiction, and more. He has appeared on stage, television (including Jeopardy), and in an independent feature film. He co-wrote and acted in a short political satire film. He has traveled to all 50 states, Mexico, Canada, and through Europe. He can be found at www.daletphillips.com

Book preview

Try these other works by Dale T. Phillips

Shadow of the Wendigo (Supernatural Thriller)

The Zack Taylor Mystery Series

A Darkened Room

A Sharp Medicine

A Certain Slant of Light

A Shadow on the Wall

A Fall From Grace

A Memory of Grief

Story Collections

The Big Book of Genre Stories (Different Genres)

Halls of Horror (Horror)

Jumble Sale (Different Genres)

Crooked Paths (Mystery/Crime)

More Crooked Paths (Mystery/Crime)

The Last Crooked Paths (Mystery/Crime)

Fables and Fantasies (Fantasy)

More Fables and Fantasies (Fantasy)

Strange Tales (Magic Realism, Paranormal)

Apocalypse Tango (Science Fiction)

Non-Fiction Career Help

How to Improve Your Interviewing Skills

With Other Authors

Rogue Wave: Best New England Crime Stories

Red Dawn: Best New England Crime Stories

Windward: Best New England Crime Stories

Insanity Tales (Horror)

Insanity Tales 2 (Horror)

Chapter 1

Though Jim Lloyd had crossed the New Jersey state line some time before, the long drive through the Summer night had not rekindled his memories, busy as he was with the traffic and the constant mess of bugs spattering and smearing on his windshield. He gave a grim smile as another one hit with a pop, wondering if it was an omen.

Not until he came to the sign did the ghosts of the past rise up and overcome him, and he had to pull over.

Welcome to Neptune City

A Seaside Community

Fifteen years since he had graduated from school here, and except for two almost drive-by visits to attend the funerals of his mother and father, he had not returned. He was only coming back because of a plea from his cousin to attend one more funeral, for Jim’s aunt. He wouldn’t have come, but the timing was convenient.

Life hadn’t been all bad here, of course, but enough to drive him from the place he’d been born and raised. It wasn’t just that it was hard being working class in a community alongside the wealthy, or the never-ending drudgery of trying to scrape out a living in a tough economy. It was more the smothering atmosphere of hopelessness, of seeing others live the easy life just out of reach, while knowing it was never to be yours.

The sense of being already inferior and always defeated before you’d begun was ingrained from birth. Some saw the ocean to the east as a barrier, something so big they could not navigate or cross, a wall of water that forcibly pinned them in place against the concrete highways of the state. Neptune City was hemmed in all around and overshadowed by larger, more well-known places, which some locals viewed as hostile territory. Born and raised here, these people would stay put upon their meager patch of turf, like zoo animals in a cage. To others, the nearby cities were stepping stones to the outside world, where one could find sweet release in the broader range of existence.             

One reason the music of Bruce Springsteen was so popular here wasn’t just because he was so local that he was of them and spoke to them about their lives. He showed the escape method. All you needed was an engine and four wheels, and you could have it all: release, someone to love you, and freedom. A car was a passport out. On the road you could go anywhere, and you could be somebody, not some dumb loser kid from a place of no dreams. Maybe it was a fantasy, yet it happened for some. A few found it true, Jim included. It was one of the reasons he had driven here from California, instead of flying, to keep his means of escape close at hand.

Those who believed that they were trapped viewed a car only as a means of transport to their dead-end job with no future ahead of them, a series of years in a meaningless existence that slowly drained the soul. They drove around town in endless loops which they could not break out of. Jim wondered about them, why they would not escape their tiny prison, when the cage door was so obviously open. Was it that frightening to leave a known place, a known food and security supply, for the raucous, unknown outside world beyond? He had done so, and flourished. He was returning in a car, but only temporarily.

Perhaps it was expectations. Having been told all their lives they were shit and would never get anywhere sunk through so that they bought it, and accepted their fate. After all, New Jersey was the butt of jokes, a final put-down by people who felt superior because they lived in other places.

School was pointless, so why bother, and the prophecy would be self-fulfilled in each generation. Everyone before in your family had stayed here, did you think you were better than all of them? Failure was the norm, so why try? Dreamers only get hurt. Accept your fate like cattle in the pen.

The recipe for trouble was the boundless energy of youth mixed with raging hormones, and few outlets for the passion and desires. Then came the bubbling rage of injustice, demanding release, a wild desire to rebel, which manifested in bad behavior: drinking, drugs, sex, crime, and fighting. Anything which said the person was alive. Something to feel again, to get relief from the humdrum and boring, the pain of knowing you were trapped. But the passions so ignited usually ended in trouble, and helped to close the trap for good on yet another soul.

Alone in his car, Jim shuddered with the emotions welling up within him, rolling in like waves off the nearby ocean. He opened his mouth and took deep breaths, and eventually got his thoughts under control. He knew he certainly could use a drink. The long drive from California had tired him, though it had cleared his head. But now his mind was troubled again. He had assumed escape meant no more passion about the past, but it had reached out and seized him with long talons. He had hoped to make peace with the ghosts of long ago.

Succumbing to nostalgia, Jim drove to the Bayside Motel where his mother had worked for years as a maid. He intended to stay at least one night for old times’ sake. He needed no directions, relying on long-unused memory to take him there. But he was confused when he arrived, for he didn’t see the familiar red neon sign for the Bayside Motel, but a much larger and more upscale hotel chain. Shoot. They must have torn down the old building and erected this one, new and modern. It looked like prosperity had finally come to the hardscrabble area. Progress, change, and more memories for the scrap heap. He wondered how much else had changed, and didn’t know if he wanted it to be so, or if he feared losing everything from the past.

Jim parked under the motel overhang outside the front doors and got out, grateful for the movement. He had driven almost fourteen hours today, more than seven hundred miles, and was relieved to have the long trip at an end. He stretched and went inside to register, and found they had rooms available. It would definitely be far more comfortable than the stodgy old Bayside. Bonus was that the bar was still open, so he wouldn’t have to drive somewhere else. Even better, he probably wouldn’t run into anybody he knew.

After signing in and getting an electronic card as a room key, he drove around to park closer to his room. He took his suitcase out of the car trunk and set it on the ground. He looked inside the trunk at the bolted-down gun safe, which held his service revolver, another small pistol, holsters, and badge. It was reassuring to have them close to hand. Another reason he had driven instead of flying, even though it did conjure memories of the murder fifteen years before, the other reason he had fled and not stayed in contact with anyone from here.

He wouldn’t be needing the guns, so he left them safely locked in the car.

Chapter 2

In the morning, Jim was rested and clear-headed, having slept well for ten hours. He’d had only two gin-and-tonics at the hotel bar before being tired enough to go back to his room. He showered and put on his funeral suit with a feeling of dread. It was likely to be a long and stressful day.

He wondered if the old Oceanview diner was still around, or if they’d torn that down as well. But there it was, a relic from the past, still beckoning with chrome trim and the promise of a cup of joe and a good breakfast. Even the sign had not changed. Jim smiled and went in, pleased that it looked the same inside.

The hostess seated him in the back, and Jim was delighted to see the table-top mini-jukebox attached to the wall. It looked like it still worked, and Jim grinned and fished out a few quarters and slid them in the coin slot. He thumbed the tabs to go through the selections of oldies, stuff that was old back when he was still around these parts. Here were the good songs, the nice memories, the familiar and safe. He punched the numbers for a few, and the first song started playing, slow and lovely and dreamy: See the pyramids along the Nile...

The song brought back a night that it had played on his car radio. He had been parked, with a girl beside him. Somebody before