No Remedy Against Death: Ray Irish Occult Suspense Mystery Book, #4

By Gordon Brewer

Death comes in many forms!

 

Ray Irish finds himself in trying to keep a state senator's daughter out of the newspapers as his relationship with Orella takes a turn for the worse. Arizona, his new partner, appears more interested in a bottle than trying to stop those who helped kill Cat.

On top of the daily turmoil, Oyster City is changing for the worse. Andras continues his demonic quest and he's brought forth witches to help his cause. The demon is now mayor and in control of the police who insure that Irish and Arizona must keep their guard up at all times. In their quest to recover the Singsing Ring, the witches seek out those close to Irish, including his good friend, Pappy.

As the events spiral downward, Irish uses a ruse to save those who care for him the most. However, he and his partner are fully exposed to the wrath of a demon and his minions. One deadly encounter after another leads Ray Irish along a torturous path against demonic forces and unexpected saviors in a thrilling climax.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brewer Internet Publishing LLC
• Release date: Aug 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9781945590474

Gordon Brewer

Gordon Brewer is the pseudonym for a professional geek, history buff, and full time dad who took up a challenge from his son to finish his first novel and enter the world of writing. Raised on a farm in Kansas, the author spent nearly 5 years in the US Navy traveling to 12 different countries during this time. After his discharge, he received his BS degree with double majors in History and Political Science. Over the next 20 years, Gordon focused on the business and IT world. His experiences left him with a need to explore wide ranging interests in multiple genres, each with historical consideration given to the characters and settings. Residing in Tennessee, he often uses his family and friends as unfortunate guinea pigs where they are forced to listen to his tales, no matter how poorly conceived they may be.

Book preview

No Remedy Against Death:

Ray Irish Occult Suspense Mystery Book 4

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Works By gordon brewer

Ray Irish Occult Mystery

A Shot of Irish

(Ray Irish Occult Suspense Mystery Book 1)

Die If You Want Praise

(Ray Irish Occult Suspense Mystery Book 2)

Drink with The Devil at Midnight

(Ray Irish Occult Suspense Mystery Book 3)

No Remedy Against Death:

(Ray Irish Occult Suspense Mystery Book 4)

Ray Irish Occult Mysteries: Omnibus Edition

Death Stalks the Runway: Ray Irish Mystery Case File #1

Reaper Walks the Garden: Ray Irish Mystery Case File #2

Paranormal and Fantasy

Beowulf: Curse of The Dreygurs

Infinite Loop

The Curse of Blackbane

Clovel Sword Chronicles Series

Shield of Skool (Book 1)

Battle for Three Realms (Book 2)

Downfall of the Gods (Book 3)

Clovel Sword Chronicles: Omnibus Edition

Clovel Sword Saga Series

Clovel Sword Saga: Volumes 1 - 2

Skeletons of Nilgava: Clovel Sword Saga 3

The Bleeding Mountains: A Clovel Sword Saga 4

No Remedy Against Death:

Ray Irish Occult Suspense Mystery Book 4

GORDON BREWER

Brewer Internet Publishing LLC

2023

Text Copyright © 2023 Shannon G Brewer

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

This book is a work of fiction.  Any references to historical events, people, or real places are used fictitiously.  All characters in this book are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Second Edition

Brewer Internet Publishing LLC

Cover Illustration Art -

https://www.fiverr.com/oliviaprodesign ©Gordon Brewer

ISBN-13:  978-1-945590-47-4

Visit the series website at

www.gordonbrewer.com

Contents

Chapter 1: Girl Trouble

Chapter 2: Send Me an Angel

Chapter 3: Into the Devil’s Lair

Chapter 4: Running out of Time

Chapter 5: Chasing Ghosts

Chapter 6: Turn of the Screws

Chapter 7: Time to Dance

Chapter 8: A Time for Regrets

Chapter 9: Sow the Land with Salt

Chapter 10: Hell to Pay

About the Author

Chapter 1: Girl Trouble

Listen, you clueless bitch! Leave or not, it’s done. I won’t talk about this anymore, Victor Dela Cruz hissed under his mask. He turned and rushed away as his bright jester clothes soon became lost in the rainbow sea of colored costumes.

Momentarily stunned by his vehement outburst, Yana stood in the ballroom’s corner. Uncomfortably dressed like a countess from the 18th century, the woman no longer felt the itch of her wig or the mask slip from her fingers. A frigid blast of resignation left her staring at the spot where he disappeared.

The son of a bitch doesn’t care anymore!

The haunting strains of a song rose from the front of the ballroom. Les Brown and the Band of Renown played Confess. The irony, along with her embarrassing night, became too much for Yana. She retreated toward the lobby doors. As she stepped past a row of colorful tents made to appear like a gypsy encampment, the woman felt someone grab her arm.

You should have left that bastard years ago!

It was Helen Day holding a flask in her other hand. She offered a drink to Yana, who shook her head.

Come on, let’s talk!

As one of Yana’s few friends in New York, Helen kept a close eye on her. The woman took Yana by the arm while directing her toward the nearest tent.

After taking a quick peek inside, Helen forced Yana to sit on the narrow bench. The woman adjusted her tight 1920s flapper dress before sliding in next to her. Helen placed her flask on the cheap table where a deck of cards lay. The heavy cloth curtains around them cut down the outside sounds, making the space refreshingly isolated.

I need to leave, Yana insisted.

No, you need to be with a friend. I watched what happened, and I know you. You shouldn’t blame yourself. Helen opened her small handbag and pulled out a cigarette case and a handkerchief. She handed the cloth to Yana before lighting her smoke.

No, I won’t need this, Yana handed back the cloth. I’ve seen it coming for a while now. I just didn’t expect him to explode in public. Hell, am I the only one here who can act like the dutiful wife of a United Nations diplomat?

You need to get everything off your chest. Helen blew smoke into the air before tipping back her flask. Trust me; it’ll help. By the way, I know an excellent lawyer for you. He’ll make sure that bastard loses his shirt.

I don’t want that. My family still holds the house and estate in Dagupan. Besides, Victor’s a diplomat. The government gave him a post in Madrid. It makes things too difficult for such thoughts. He’ll return to Spain soon.

She handed the handkerchief back with a troubled smile. Helen was on her third husband, so Yana trusted her advice on divorce lawyers.

This just means I get away from him and return to my life. That’s good. I have bigger problems.

Orella?

Yana nodded, then looked at the entrance as the curtain opened. A masked woman wearing the costume of a gypsy entered.

I’m sorry I didn’t realize that I have customers. Tonight’s been slow.

The gypsy took a seat at the table, slopping her glass of champagne on the wood surface. She shuffled the deck of cards.

I don’t think... Yana offered, but Helen cut her off.

Yes, this is great. Can you give a reading to my friend?

Helen, I’m not in the mood. Yana tried again.

Nonsense. You need to see the future. Helen merrily gave her a self-satisfied smile before turning back to the gypsy.

How much?

It’s a dollar for a reading. But one must reach out to the spirits.

The woman finished shuffling, then held out her hand.

Oh, she’s willing. She’s going through a difficult time. Helen placed a bill in the gypsy’s hand.

Yana let out a resigned sigh. Endearing, her friend’s penchant for taking charge tonight annoyed her. Nevertheless, Yana moved closer to the table while the fortune teller laid out the cards.

You’ll notice that I lay out your cards in this Celtic cross spread. You must focus upon these, for each position within the spread has a meaning. The gypsy explained, then took another drink.

The last cards are the staff. You can think of the two crosses where card one and two become nested within a larger cross in the middle. This situation represents the heart of the matter - what is most central to you at the reading time. Do you understand?

Despite her reservations, Yana nodded.

That’s good. You see, this is the hub around which the wheel of your life is turning. The fortune-teller flipped a card.

What about those cards? Helen’s wide-eyed interruption caused the gypsy to smile.

I see you are helping your friend on her path of discovery. The staff is your consciousness, moving from your unconscious on the bottom to your conscious mind on the top. While the horizontal line of the cross shows time moving from your friend’s past into her future.

The gypsy pointed at the first card. An angel holding a sword and scale stood out in the image.

Justice stands with you, for you believe in fairness. You believe someone has done you wrong. If you put things right, then you’ll find justice.

See, I told you, Karen smirked as she lit another cigarette.

Yana glared at her, then waited for the next card.

Their hostess flipped over a card showing the sun.

This is what you want most since you have been through a period of challenges. The Sun heralds an ending to your difficulties. Soon a time comes to celebrate with friends and loved ones, even the possibility of conception or birth.

Ow, I didn’t know you were expecting, Helen cooed and squeezed her friend’s shoulder like they were sorority sisters. Yana smelled the liquor on the woman’s breath and realized her friend was hiding her intoxication well.

I’m not expecting, she replied through gritted teeth. Can we get to the next one and get this over with?

The fortune-teller scowled at them, then turned the next card.

This concerns your fears, for the Moon shows you about the lies and insecurity that are prominent in your life at the moment. You are afraid of being deceived and misled.

Wait, what are you telling me? Yana’s eyes widened as she gripped the table.

The card is showing your turbulent emotions. It means you need to find clarity of mind and purpose, even when this seems difficult. While the Moon helps illuminate the way, it cannot show what hides in the shadows.

Yana backed away from the table.

Helen, I’ve had enough of this. She stood up.

Oh, are you afraid? Yana, every one of these cards is spot on so far. Do you want to know the truth? She looked at the woman suspiciously. Or maybe you want to go home and wait for Victor.

Shut up!

Don’t be like this. Sit down and let’s get our money’s worth. Helen offered her the flask again, but Yana ignored it as she returned to her seat.

Get on with it!

The gypsy woman stared at Yana for a moment, then she shrugged. When she turned over the next card, she immediately looked at Yana.

It’s not what it seems.

Without a word, Yana hurried out of the tent.

Yana, come back. Helen tried to stop her, but her friend refused to respond.

When Helen peered out the open curtain flap, she watched Yana running away in a near sprint. The woman’s tall, white wig danced precariously on her head as she burst through the exit doors. When she disappeared, Helen turned back to the table to retrieve her flask and cigarettes. The card image stared at her from the table, a grinning skull wearing a knight’s armor.

I certainly didn’t expect that. What’s that card mean?

That’s what I wanted to explain. The symbol of death only means a time of endings and brand-new beginnings. Your friend will come to a new phase in your life.

The gypsy turned over the next card.

Now, this is more of a warning about what is standing against her.

Is that what I think it is? Helen’s voice was almost a whisper as she flicked the ash from her cigarette.

The gypsy nodded and took a cigarette from Helen’s case.

Someone, probably a male, finds little hope for the future because of this card. The creature on this card likes chaos in people’s lives. Your friend needs to consider her friends because she will question the motives of everyone.

As the fortune-teller leaned forward to light her cigarette from the offered stub held by Helen, her expression showed concern.

The devil’s desire to control leaves her and her loved ones vulnerable.

~~~

A week after the burial of Katherine Bennett and J. Allan Dunn, Bishop Henry La Spina remained in the hospital. He looked out the open window, not noticing the trickle of sweat dripping on his chest. Below his chest, he felt next to nothing anymore, a permanent condition that Henry decided needed a resolution soon. For the moment, the man’s thoughts returned to a woman that he could not get out of his mind.

Myrna!

He sighed, reconciled with the belief that she was safe.

Well, for the moment.

The bishop looked down at the passage inside a book he was reading. While he knew most, if not all, the Bible passages, Henry La Spina lived a life dedicated to mocking and scorning God. Before taking his vows as a priest, the man cut the throats of human sacrifices in tribute to his master, Andras. Since the beginning, he enjoyed his double life as a demon worshiper while acting as the leader of one of Oyster City’s Protestant churches.

However, Henry quickly grew to regret the success of their endeavors to bring Andras from the depths of Hell. Among the privileged families who made up the Shadows, there was always an underlying expectation their group would remain in control. Andras quickly ensured such beliefs held no sway with him. The demon master abused, raped, and killed his followers with the same abandon as he inflicted upon his sacrificial victims. Aside from his natural distaste for being bossed around by a bully, there was something that Henry found that he never expected.

He fell for a gawky woman!

A demon worshiper found love in a tender soul who remained untouched by the vile world.

Until she married me!

Henry’s eyes went back to the book he received as a gift from a nurse. One passage inside the pages tore at him. It described the world he gave to Myrna.

Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell.

Matthew 10:28

Henry did not hear the door open. But he suddenly felt fear across those parts of his body still capable of sensation.

Andras, you’ve come. The bishop refused to look over at the demon that inhabited the body of Peter Smyth.

Of course, you wouldn’t expect me to send a messenger.

Peter Smyth took a seat across from the bed while his brother closed the door. Henry observed his master’s act of social acceptance. As he looked the demon over, he remembered how Peter wore his middle age well with a lean body and chiseled porcelain facial features. However, something about the man’s face looked different. His cheekbones were broader and pulled higher. The creature inside Smyth’s body kept his mouth shut tightly as well. Only someone who knew him well would notice the change.

On the other hand, Phillip’s heavily weathered face showed his years of excess and debauchery. He remained by the door with his hat in hand. However, he held the same piercing blue eyes as his brother.

My condolences to your condition, the district attorney stated in his usual cold way.

I was wondering if you’ve made any progress in finding your wife?

Bishop La Spina glanced over.

I woke up several days ago to find that I can no longer walk. But, I’m expecting Myrna to show up any day in her grief about my condition.

The gray-haired man with the face of a hawk gave Henry a silent smirk. The bishop decided his face looked more like a vulture.

Henry, I believe you have access to a telephone, Phillip Smyth interceded, pushing his long silver hair back across his shoulders. You could have called for help in finding Myrna. Our master stated that you have until the next moon to bring your wife back into our circle.

Phillip glanced at the man in the chair.

Your condition does not withdrawal the order that I gave you. You know this festival will cement my rule over Oyster City. Those who follow me must make their vows upon that night. Loyalty to me is all that matters to mortals. Weakness is not something I tolerate.

I’m quite sure of that, the bishop agreed.

"Good! There’s a rumor that someone saw your wife around the Beacon with a columnist who works there. There is your clue to finding her. Bring that bitch to me on the night of slaughter. It is you or your wife that will hang over the pit of fire."

The ominous tone coming from Andras caused Henry to suppress a smile.

Andras, I’ve had time to consider many things from this bed. My soul has been yours from the beginning of my life. However, I don’t understand why you should worry about my wife. There’s a whole town of people that we can use in the sacrifice. The night of slaughter will remove any interference to my plans.

The demon stared at him for a moment.

If it provides you with an incentive, I’ll expand my previous thoughts. Myrna is not a threat to me personally. However, her bloodline provides me with a means to bring more from my realm into the human world. We can breed her or sacrifice her. Like you and Phillip, even that foreigner who carries the Singsing ring, each person is marked by their ancestors’ actions. I find them useful or an obstacle to my wishes.

Smyth stood from his chair, glancing out the open window.

Which leads me to your interest in your wife’s welfare. I took her on the day of your wedding. You resisted me. Yet, she’s escaped your servants. Worse, you attempted to interfere with our inclusion of her into the circle. I’m wondering about your value.

LaSpina remained quiet, staring at his useless legs. He suddenly remembered Andras killing Julie Smyth to raise the harem of witches. The bishop looked at Smyth.

You find everyone temporary in value!

As I’ve told you and the others from the beginning, family ties of Oyster City are not important, Andras continued. The Shadows must follow my purpose; not shield those you wish to keep from a true calling as my servant.

Henry glimpsed Phillip’s troubled expression at the demon’s statement.

As a cripple now, you cannot extend your bloodline, Smyth turned back to the bishop. Let me be blunt. Your worth teeters between a painful death over a pit or your continued existence on this earth. Should you fail me, not only can I promise you terrible demise, but your anguish and torture will extend for eternity. Do I make myself clear?

Henry slowly nodded.

I’ll make sure that I do what’s best, just like my family has always done, the bishop told them. We can’t have any loose ends.

Peter Smyth walked to the door.

I’m glad you understand. For a moment, you had Phillip concerned. I don’t care if you kill off Myrna’s entire family to get her back. I want her given to my supporters for entertainment before I break her. Her soul becomes my property that night. No one leaves my circle of friends!

Phillip opened the door for the master. He looked back at his friend in the bed.

Let me know if you need anything. We’ll talk soon.

Don’t worry, I plan on fixing everything. You have my vow, Henry La Spina told the closing door.

~~~

The bastard doesn’t even bother to come back to the house anymore!

Yana looked away from the untouched twin bed a few feet away. She glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. The harsh light coming from the lamp showed her it was just after four. Despite the uncomfortable feeling of sweat covering her body, Yana wrapped the covers around her tighter. It took away the heebie-jeebies that left her fully awake at the ungodly hour.

Orella is in danger!

Call it mother’s intuition or, maybe, a wave of growing anger at the reason for her danger.

Ray Irish!

She could forgive her daughter’s reckless and naïve rush back to the private detective. Orella still carried a crush on the man who saved her life. However, Yana focused her anger on Irish for his betrayal of their agreement. He knew her daughter remained vulnerable.

Yet, he let Orella stay with him in Oyster City. For all she knew, they were living together in his bedroom in the same dusty office where Irish scraped by as a shamus. Her daughter might not see the shame in the situation, but her mother certainly did.

Finally tired of the heat, Yana threw back the covers. As she let the still humid air try to cool her, the woman’s mind came back to the reason for her early rise.

The nightmares are getting worse!

Her dream started in a field near Sorbonne University, a place that Yana enjoyed during her years in Paris as a student. Each May, she joined the girls in a ceremonial folk dance around a tall pole garlanded with greenery and flowers.

In the first part of her dream, she enjoyed reminiscing in her memories. The colorful streamers of ribbons hung from the top of the Maypole. Soon, dancers surrounded Yana, who stood by the pole. Amid the laughter, the young maidens took the cloth strips, and they wove intricate patterns around the woman. She smiled as they twisted and gyrated to the sound of a ceremonial drumbeat.

While Yana stood memorized by the dance, she first saw three beautiful women in the background. The colorful streamers partially hid them from Yana as the women joined in the merriment. Slowly, the scene changed as the dancers wrapped Yana to the pole. The woman’s eyes followed the triplets so alike in every detail as her smile faded.

The sound stopped, and Yana looked up at the streams of bright ribbons flowing down like rain. Amid the display, Yana looked at the triplets who came close to her while shedding their clothes. The booming sound of a drum started again, and the three women began to dance. Unseen hands appeared to hold the ribbons, which whirled around them. After a moment, another woman joined them.

It was her daughter!

Orella danced with the same passionate expression on her face as the other women. Yana yelled out when her daughter stripped her clothes. The garments floated down as the girl danced. Despite the pleas, Orella grinned and continued her rhythmic dance with the other women. Slowly, the light around the scene grew dark, and the streamers grayed while the bindings around Yana tightened.

She saw a dark, slender man standing in the distance. While he never moved, his figure drew closer. Yana’s arms and legs hurt as the ribbons holding her pulled tighter with each beat of the drums. She looked down to see blood oozed as the bindings cut into her.

While the drumbeat slowed, the dancers stopped their movement. Instead, the women went to their knees. They groveled before the dark stranger, now close enough for Yana to see. She screamed out in horror and revulsion when she recognized the person. Yet, no sound came from her lips.

The creature’s hawk-like face turned skeletal while his pitch-black eyes looked upon Orella. She held out her hand with the Singing ring on her ring finger. The demon held her forearm while robed figures surrounded her daughter. Yana silently screamed again when she saw a dagger suddenly rise above the small crowd. She witnessed the weapon plunge into Orella’s hand. However, her daughter did not react or even cry out. Instead, she offered her mangled hand to the triplets, who lapped at the blood like dogs.

Yana cried out in agony as she finally woke from the crushing nightmare. She shivered again while she tried to purge her mind of the images. The woman kept telling herself that she was a modern, rational person. Dreams and fortune-tellers were the stuff of legends from a primitive past.

Yet, something deep inside of the mother willed her to get out of bed. Resolved in her instant plan, Yana immediately went to the closet. She pulled out a leather suitcase and began to pack.

I’ve got to get her away!

~~~

How dare you embarrass me like that! You take me back right now!

The young girl’s orders probably worked on her father’s lackeys. However, Ray Irish did not bother to glance over.

Girl, you’re going home. Next time you run off, get a boyfriend without a glass jaw. The large man growled as he eased the girl’s expensive Packard around the corner to reach the main highway back to Oyster City.

Irish remained annoyed at the fight, and his hand still hurt from the punch. Plus, he needed to take a taxi back to retrieve his car. On top of it all, the stitches from his bullet wound were itching again.

The woman leaned back in the seat, her eyes remaining on the shamus with an icy stare. He hoped that the woman would continue to give him the cold treatment at least until she returned to her plush bedroom on the expansive estate of her father.

Instead, Della Reece leaned over closer to him. The ploy gave him a delightful view of her cleavage that came with her tight blue dress. It was also so obvious that he nearly groaned in disbelief.

How much is my father paying you? I can give you five hundred right now! Her husky voice made him take another look.

Della immediately enjoyed the attention, giving him a bedroom smile. However, her gray eyes held little warmth. She was cute, but she wore too much makeup on her plump cheeks.

Another spoiled brat!

She liked suckers who gave in to her whims. Ray did not doubt that Della learned since puberty to get her way with the good smoldering look and a bit of cleavage.

You should pull over on the next side road. I’ll bet that we can make a deal, the woman continued. Shamus, I’m great with men.

Sister, I’ll lay money that. I’ve followed you for the last three days. During that time, you’ve had this Packard in the back lots of five different clubs with four different guys. Hell, I’ve sat around watching you fog up backseat windows while you’ve been on your back. Daddy finally said enough of your game. It’s time to go home.

His tone was for a child, but he glanced at the cleavage again. Irish was not above thinking about the possibilities. The girl noticed his peep. She opened her purse and pulled out cash, which she waved the bills at him.

Come on; my father doesn’t need to know a thing. Take the next turnoff. I can tell that you’re the kind of guy who carries a flask in your hip pocket. We can have a few snorts and some fun. Her voice carried the throaty timbre of passion and experience. You can just tell him I got away!

Damn, women can be tough on a guy!

Forget it! A guy working for a state senator doesn’t take bribes from their daughter. Plus, your daddy has connections with certain people who’ll put me in prison. Get yourself to twenty-one, then I’ll consider it.

Ray explained the problem more to himself than to her.

Now, just sit back and enjoy the night!

Della huffed and slid back to the other side of the car.

You’re a bastard! You probably don’t even like girls.

Yeah, I’m no good, alright. Thing is that I like a woman who doesn’t play around like a whore.

You son of a bitch, you can’t call me that! I’ll have daddy break you! The venom exploded from the other side of the seat.

Sister, you’re not doing anything. We both know that you’re a spoiled girl from Miss Plummer’s School of High Brow Ingrates. You get on the wrong side of me, and I’ll pull over to spank your sweet little ass with a strap. Your daddy should have done that a long time ago.

He turned to her, his face dark with irritation.

Now, shut the hell up!

Still fuming, Ray turned on the car radio. He expected the girl to continue her rant, but she surprised him by stewing instead. He felt her angry stare from the darkened passenger side. A mile down the road, she finally spoke up.

You should have been nice to me. I’ve decided that I’ll tell my father that you hurt me. He won’t pay you. I’ll have the last laugh.

Her smug tone reminded Irish of why he hated people with more money than brains.

Sister, I had Daddy already pay me upfront since I was trailing your ass across the state. Otherwise, your offer tonight might have worked on a poor shamus.

He gave her a cheesy grin with his lie.

Take a bit of free advice. Get yourself married. Then, you can have all the fun on the side that you want. Daddy won’t send a guy like me after you. Embarrassing your husband doesn’t make your daddy politician look so bad.

This time, Della went quiet after crossing her arms in a show of defiance. While the money was good, Ray hated dealing with these cases. His mind immediately went to the far deadlier target that he needed to handle. The same guy who helped to put the itching stitches in his side and his leg. The bastard who killed his partner and friend.

It was near midnight when the Packard entered the estate of Walter Reece. Irish drove the large vehicle straight into the open garage. He got out and waited for the girl. She ignored him as she went toward the house. He quickly shut the garage door from the outside and hurried after her.

All right, you bastard, I’m home! Now go away, she yelled. 

No, sweetie, your father needs to see you all safe and tucked into bed. Irish grinned at Della’s glare. I’d hate to see you make something up about how badly I treated you.

The odd couple took the path around the lawn, coming from behind the massive square house. Their passage through inky shadows of the narrow walk skirted the large formal garden. The moon pushed into the dark sky, highlighting the yellow feathers stuck on the woman’s hat. The woman’s heels clicked hollowly like a typewriter on the concrete, echoing out from the side of the structure. They swung around the corner and took the front steps, where dark shadows covered much of a large porch greeted them.

You’d think they’d leave a light on for you, Irish grunted as he unbuttoned his coat. Even with the lack of rain or cold that evening, his trench coat remained comfortably handy, like his fedora. It also helped conceal his .45 auto resting in the holster under his left armpit.

Della stopped at the massive door.

What, no key? Irish reached over to press the doorbell.

I don’t need them. Her sarcastic reply brought another grunt from the shamus.

After several moments, the inside lights came on, and a haggardly looking woman opened the door. She wore a black maid’s uniform.

Ms. Della, I’m so glad you’re back.

Della ignored her and brushed by the woman on her way inside. Ray followed them into a vestibule that displayed a grand staircase made of dark wood.

Tell Walter Reece that Ray Irish brought his daughter back home, the shamus stated with a resigned sigh.

Yes, sir, he’s been in bed for a while. I’ll direct you to his library, where you can wait.

That’s what I expected. I hope you have a cup of strong coffee hanging around here.

~~~

I should have killed the bitch, Lance Carrol growled out as he took a sip from his silver flask.

As he