Wrath of the Scapegoat: A Drag Shergi Mystery

By Kimberly Vogel

First Age, Year 953 : Though Ron Masters is an excellent policeman, sometimes he gets on people's nerves. A fight where he cannot win happens. Drag Shergi is shocked by his death. Nearly everyone believes that it is a tragedy, but not mysterious at all. With the appearance of his ghost, Drag learns there is more to the story. Can the former policeman keep his friends at the precinct while poking into the death of one of their own? Rumors of a haunting at the police station turn into undeniable reality. Can anyone stop the vengeful spirit before it claims another?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Dec 16, 2011
• ISBN: 9781105362873

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Wrath of the Scapegoat: A Drag Shergi Mystery

Wrath of the Scapegoat: A Drag Shergi Mystery

Kimberly Vogel

Copyright

Copyright © 2011 by Kimberly Vogel.

ISBN eBook 978-1-105-36287-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

For additional copies refer to:

http://www.lulu.com/shakkathi

Acknowledgements

I want to thank my family and friends for supporting me.

Without you, I don’t know where I would be.

Wrath of the Scapegoat

It was the call I never thought I’d get. Sure, we all have to pass on sometime, and in my line of work I see plenty of dead people, but when it is someone you know, it takes a different meaning. Ron Masters was dead. I always thought he’d outlive us all, with his attitude. I’d gotten the phone call from my old partner, Jim Starling, two days ago. Tonight was the wake. It would be a little awkward to go, as I’d been forcibly retired from the police force early in my career, but I felt I had to.

It was a warm summer evening. Though I wasn’t much for drinking, it would be a perfect night to do just that. In the part of town the wake was being held in, there was a bar next door to the church. I found it a little odd, but apparently it brought good fortune to both, so I couldn’t say anything other than that. The side doors of both were open so the two could be connected. Those who wanted to drink and carry on could be in the bar section while the calmer people could be in the church.

I wasn’t late, but I wasn’t early either. Already the church was packed with the people that Masters had touched in his fifty-two years of life. The majority of them were police officers. Many were civilians as well. There were a couple dozen people in the same situation I was in as private detectives as well. While I looked around, I noticed nearly everyone from my old unit was there. I felt a little awkward, but I walked from the entrance of the church to the pew that held them. I sat in the far corner with a faint smile.

Hey Drag, whispered a hawkish man as he slid over closer to me. It was Jim Starling. He was dressed in his usual clothes. The only thing different was a black suit jacket over the white dress shirt and black slacks. He put his hand up and adjusted the black tie. I’m glad you could make it. As he spoke, his brown eyes glanced from his tan skin. The light brown hair brushed over his cheeks. He put his hand up and brushed the strands in an attempt to go behind his ears. It didn’t stay though, rather fell back.

I didn’t have anything else to do, I replied with a weak twinge of a smile. My light blue eyes glanced around the place again. The pale silver strands of my hair fell around my light skinned face, but I had it cut back enough to keep from going in my eyes. I don’t understand how this could happen, though. My hands pulled at my black trench coat. I’d exchanged my usual white t-shirt for a dress shirt and my usual blue jeans for navy blue dress slacks. As always, I had my black boots that were all policemen’s uniform.

We don’t really understand either, said another man. While he wasn’t one of my group per say, Bour Makas had been one of my informants. Now he was a policeman. We’d managed to keep in touch somewhat over the years. He smiled as he bobbed his head. The goggle-style glasses perched on top of his short gray hair remained in place. His hand went up past his ruddy skin to make sure they did stay as his brown eyes watched me. It was sudden and violent, though. When his hand fell I took in his clothing’s appearance. It hadn’t changed. He had a black trench coat over a white dress shirt and brown dress slacks.

Oh, I replied with a frown. But, was it foul play or anything like that?

Jim simply shrugged. Even if we knew, we couldn’t tell you.

Come on, as one officer to the other asking about a friend, what happened?

Bour took a deep breath in then let it out slowly. We just don’t know. It seemed like a terrible accident brought about by old age though.

With a deepening frown I sighed while I bobbed my head. I never thought he’d die, not really.

Neither did we, replied Bour.

Anyway, listen to the service, said Jim.

The preacher stood up at the pulpit. He placed his hands on either side of the stand. He leaned lightly against it as he cleared his throat then spoke loudly. Ron Masters was a fine man. Sure like us he had his faults, but he always stuck to his beliefs. With bulldog tenacity he fought for justice in this city... He will be sorely missed.

I have to confess that I drifted off between the beginning and the end of the speech given about Masters. I was too distracted by my own thoughts. It just didn’t seem possible that Masters would be taken by accident. He had lost all his hair from the stress of work yes, but there wasn’t anything else health-wise that I could think of. He had a face whose muscles couldn’t keep up, which made his jowls flap when he got mad. The rest of his body was all packed muscle though which made up his beefy frame. With his station he didn’t have to worry about being in uniform, but he made sure his clothes were respectful to the spirit of the code.