The Drowned Dockworker: Quake City Investigations, #1

By Kevin Berry

In Quake City, don't go down to the docks at night…

 

Smugglers are at work in Quake City. Private investigator Danny Ashford suspects foul play when a dockworker turns up dead, but the self-proclaimed best PI in town seldom avoids getting himself into trouble. This time's no different.

Investigative reporter Deepa Banwait follows up a hot lead for a story, taking her to the docks. Landing an exclusive would be a big break for her, but how much danger will she put herself into to get it?

When Danny and Deepa cross paths, the trouble mounts for them both.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Quake City Publications
• Release date: Jul 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9780473531713

Kevin Berry

I'm an Amazon best-selling author living in earthquake-hit Christchurch, New Zealand, where my contemporary novels are set. I'm a night owl and prefer writing late into the night whenever possible. My books span a variety of genres. I've written contemporary crime noir fiction, contemporary YA (social issues), science fiction, middle grade interactive fiction, and co-written fantasy (now out of print). My work has so far produced a Sir Julius Vogel Award (shared), the elusive Awesome Indies Seal of Approval (twice), and Amazon (CA) #1 Bestseller rankings in Noir mysteries and thrillers, and Hard-boiled mysteries.

Book preview

MIDNIGHT AT THE QUAKE CITY DOCKS, on a Sunday. The place was dead quiet. A dirty white van approached, pulled onto Dock 4 and parked at the entrance to a wooden pier. The driver killed the lights, and the van became another shadow on the starlit docks.

Johnny Mince Bright got out of the vehicle, passenger side, and closed the door gently. He shivered from the chill of the air and pulled the collar of his coat tight. The driver exited too, but less carefully. In the night’s stillness, the thud of his door slamming carried for a kilometre.

Davey, don’t make such a racket.

Sorry, boss. Davey didn’t sound sorry as he scurried to the back of the vehicle and yanked the doors open. Mince’s breath made a silver-tinged cloud in the starlight, and the glow of the cigarette dangling from his lips darted about. The vehicle’s interior light came on, casting a sickly yellow hue over Davey’s face.

Mince double-checked the van’s contents. Eight empty metal cages, all a metre and a half on each side. They hadn’t left any behind. Good; they’d need them all.

Close by, tied up at the pier, was a fishing boat that had seen better days; better decades, too, but its age and condition made it cheap to hire and impossible to trace. On the boat, a light came on outside the wheelhouse. Someone lowered a gangplank to the pier, a graunch penetrating the night.

That you, Timmy? It’s Mince here.

Yeah, it’s me. You guys need a hand with anything?

Help Davey get this stuff onto the boat, will ya?

The empty cages required two of them to lower each one from the van to the ground, accompanied by copious grunting and cursing. Timmy had a trolley to manoeuvre them up the gangplank, but it still needed Davey pushing as well. Sweat ran down their faces and arms, even in the cold night air.

Mince oversaw that part of the operation from the van—a perk of being the boss.

The second-to-last cage crashed to the ground. The ringing of steel on concrete reverberated throughout the docks and beyond.

Davey jumped back. Shit! That nearly landed on my foot.

What happened? Mince poked his head out from inside the van.

Lost my grip. Sweaty hands.

Be more careful, you idiot. Accidents might happen, but he couldn’t afford that on this job. He jumped down and inspected the cage for damage. A moment’s glance revealed a potential problem. You broke the lock, dammit.

Timmy strode over. We have to hurry, guys. I don’t want to get caught out here doing this.

Hey! You don’t give the orders. Mince scowled at him. All right, we’ll have to load this cage anyway, even though it’s damaged. It might hold. At least until we’ve sold the animals on.

Davey whispered into Mince’s ear. Someone’s coming, boss.

Mince turned. A flashlight’s glow penetrated the night’s