Kent Mars P I : Volume One

By Kenneth Mays

The Writer's Toast Here's to all the ex-wives in my life, Here's to all my money lost, and all the strife. Here's to all the friends I know, Here's to all the bad debts I owe. Here's to the glass I lift and say, Here's to another happy Zinfandel Day. KM Many thanks to my family, (especially Jill) who still support me, and my friends, and all of the fictional characters in my stories. Similarities in names are purely by accident.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: May 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483411071

Book preview

P.I.

CHAPTER 1

I t was just another cold morning outside, and I was starting to make the morning coffee when the phone rang. Hello, I said not thinking it was going to be anything important this early in the morning, but I was wrong. Mars, the voice shouted. Kent Mars, is that you? Yeah, I said, Who is this? I looked at the caller I.D. and saw that it was a close local caller. Mars, I need your help, the caller said in a weird painful sounding voice, that seemed to be changing tones as the caller continued. They’re trying to kill me and I need your help. The caller said. Then I heard two loud pop sounds, and I knew that the sounds were handgun shots being fired from close range. The caller stopped talking, and I heard what sounded like the phone being dropped and the caller falling down. Mars, I’ve been shot! Help me." The phone then became silent. I grabbed another phone line and called 911and told them who I was, and to send and ambulance to the callers address, which I had just obtained from my caller I.D. locating equipment. Knowing that the address was at least fifteen minutes away, I grabbed my 45 and the keys to my Beamer and headed out the door. After pressing the pedal down and getting the Beamer into sixth gear, the hundred plus mile an hour trip to the callers location was s wift.

Arriving at the scene, I saw the ambulance as requested, and two highway patrol cars. As I approached the house, I showed my I.D. to one of the young officers at the door, and was allowed in. Then I saw two EMT’s working on a young woman’s body, which was just being lifted onto a stretcher. She was dressed in dirty blue coverall which where blood soaked. She had been shot twice, once in the right arm, and once in the shoulder. One of the EMTs spoke and said, Make it quick, she’s lost a lot of blood.Just then she reached out and handed me a blood stained envelope an said, Hear take this, it will help you, and help me." I put the envelope in my jacket pocket, and she then became unconscious, and the EMT’s hurried her out the door to the ambulance. I stayed and talked to the patrolmen and viewed the crime scene. After I finished talking with them I decided to leave and try to find a place to get my first cup of morning coffee, and go over the content in the blood soaked envelope.

Heading back home, I stopped at a Starbucks and got one of their extremely over rated and priced cups of coffee. I took the time to examine the envelope and study the contents. Inside I found ten one hundred dollar bills, a round trip plane ticket to Orlando Florida dated for tomorrow, and the return flight was left open dated. There was a couple of photos of a couple of shady looking guys, and a letter about how these guys were responsible for her father’s death, and their connection to the mob that was connected to eliminating the small privately owned waste hauling businesses, and their connection to American Waste Management, which is forcing all of these mom and pop companies out of business, on the east coast. Along with this information, was a check for ten thousand dollars, and a note hand written saying if I needed more, please call. Well, at this point it looked like my $300 a day fee was paid for, and I was unofficially back on the payroll. I headed home, to pack and make a few phone calls to some friends down south and tell them I was flying down for awhile, and I had some things I needed help with.

The next day after landing at Orlando, I met my friend driver that was waiting for me, and we headed to Daytona so I could meet up with one of my old time friends, and old war buddies. His house was on the beach, and very secure from the public with all fences and gates, alarms, lights, and a security system all in place, and active. Once past the cameras and scans, and the guard dogs, everything seemed to be normal as we walked from the covered ground level storm surge area parking lot to the stairs leading up to the first level of the house.

Mars, you look like death warmed over, the voice said coming from the stairwell. I looked up in the direction the voice was coming from. Oh yes, I said. It is I, the guy that lived after the shooting! I smiled at my friend that was coming down the stairs in front of me. I noticed the cane that he was using was the same cane he had hand carved years ago, from one of the oars that had saved us both after being ship wrecked in a stormy sea and a gasoline explosion and gunfire at us from a Chinese gun boat. Too bad I can’t say the same for you! How the hell are ya? I asked smiling, and holding out my hand. My friend was smiling and shook my hand and said while pointing up the stairs, with his cane, Let’s get a drink up there and meet the rest of the crew. As we entered the third level upper room, which was a giant circular bar room with a circular bar in the middle of the room and windows that wrapped clear around the room. It was a sight to be seen, day or night, and this was a special night.

As we entered the room, the talking stopped and all four people starred at me. The first guy I recognized from my past, was Mac Price, he was a weapons specialist and major gun buff from the past, and avid hunter, marksman, and powder specialist. If your gun could shoot, he could make it shoot all the better. I nodded towards him and said, Mac Price, let’s talk later. He held up his glass towards me and replied, Right on!

The second guy was familiar but not a close friend like Mac, or my good cane clad friend who everybody called Domino, but his real name was Douglas Dominacan. The story behind his nickname was if you come around him you’ll fall like dominoes, and not to be trusted if you didn’t know him. The paranoia started after the war and his involvement with the CIA and all of the drugs tested on all the hit men the government was testing. After a couple of years of prison and drugs, good ol’ Domino almost bought the farm from the government. After several lengthy years of trials and settlements, my good friend Domino was granted a honorable discharge, and retreated to Daytona Florida for a short stay, which is now his headquarters and home. His present job status is Retired but his private job is, I will find you, type business, if you are acquainted to someone close to his liking. He also owns several tourist fishing vessels.

The second guy in the group was just like the rest of us, and was still used by the CIA and Interpol and the FBI occasionally used him as an investigator type hit person. Most of his time here at Domino’s compound was spent healing or recovering. I had met him twice before, but didn’t really spend any time with him. We knew each other and he knew my worth, and I knew his. Little did I know that we would work together again some day. His name was Spencer, but everyone called him Spender. That kind of lets you know how he lived, and his worth, when he was on a mission. He specialized in stealth killing and explosives. A good man to have available if needed, and a guy NOT to mess with if you didn’t have to.

The third guy was Domino’s friend that he met while in the CIA intelligence. His specialty was wire taps and computer hacking. His specialty was used by me a couple of years ago to set up my portable wire tapping hardware, and the now legal telephone caller I.D. locating equipment. His nickname is Switchblade, and for obvious reasons. He was a silent intruder for the military and his main tool was a switchblade that had taken countless lives in Vietnam and Cambodia. I had known him for five years now and I never learned his name. If you knew Domino, you could get a hold of him through Domino only!

The fourth guy was a large framed giant type person. Six foot eight inches tall, and probably tipping the scales at 400 pounds easily. His muscular build and appearance made him look like someone you would definitely not want to piss off. His name is Artoro Gentry. A big giant, gentle talking, always smiling likeable guy. His specialty is being able to speak ten different languages fluently, and his hobby was voice impersonations. He could imitate anyone he heard and could sound like a child, or an old lady, or a deep voiced man. This was his knack, and the government had used him, and I had used him before in several schemes and scams. His rate of pay was always valued highly.

Yes, here we were, six guys telling stories of the past and drinking top shelf drinks. Tonight was special all right. We all had a lot in common, and no problem was bigger than the six of us. Some of the adventures these guys told and talked about even made my jaw drop at times.

After cooking steaks on the middle grill pit, in the center of the bar area. We all relaxed and decided to wait until tomorrow and discuss businesses at hand. I decided to make a couple of phone calls and get the latest on my clients health and condition, after getting shot by the 9mm pistol. I called my answering machine to get any incoming calls. One was from a friend who wanted to go fishing. The other one was from the police detective I had talked to at the crime scene. I gave him a call and told me about the finger prints on the 9mm casing. Mars, he said. Those prints belong to a bad guy from Jacksonville Florida. He has several priors for gun crime, His Name is Alex Smith, aka Smitty. I smiled and answered him, Well ok, thank you, I’m in Florida right now, I’ll keep in touch. I then hung up and then called the Hospital to get the latest on Sara Adams. Oh she is recovering nicely, and doing just fine. The nurse said.

Ok, I said, Tell her Kent Mars called about her, she’ll know me. Thanks!" I then hung up the phone.

Ok, where do I sleep Domino? I asked. He stood up, pointed his cane towards the stairs and said, Down stairs go left, last door on the left. I then looked at everyone that was still open eyed, and raised my hand and said, Love you all, see you all tomorrow, I’m beat. I then turned around and headed towards my room for the night.

T he next morning I woke and heard barking dogs. I got up and looked out the window and saw one of the young grounds keeper feeding the dogs. I also saw a couple of the guys outside drinking morning coffee and orange juice at one of the many tables and cabanas on the courtyard facing the morning sun, and the surf in the distance. I picked up my watch and put it on and saw that it was seven AM. After a quick shower, I dressed and was down and out the door to the court yard. Hey, top of the morning to ya! I said as I neared the occupied table. The replies were a head nod from Mac, and a half salute by Arturo. I reached for a cup and filled it from an old army type canteen that had COFFEE printed on it in bold old white lettering. Where is the rest of the guys? I asked. Mac was the first to answer and said, Domino and Switchblade are in the gym pumping iron, and the Spender is down at the beach doing his morning endurance run thing in the sand. Arturo smiled and said in a girly voice, Do you want some breakfast Mister Mars? I had to smile and said back to him in the deepest voice I could muster out, NO THANKS NOT HUNGRY BEFORE I KILL SOMETHING!" That made the two of them laugh out loud, and the tempo of the morning was now set.

Domino and Switchblade came out of the side door to the gym room. Domino said as they got closer, and pointed with his cane, Sit, sit, sit, we all have to our schedules worked out. He looked at Arturo and asked, Arturo what is your schedule for today? I’m heading down to Miami and do a benefit show for some kids that are shut up in some Orphanage down there. I should be back tomorrow night if all goes well, He said. Mac, what about you? Domino asked. Well I would just like to hang loose for a couple of days if you don’t mind, He said. Yeah, that’s perfect, Domino replied, then said, The Spender told me earlier this morning that he was in solitude for the next three days and not to count on him for anything, unless you need somebody or someone removed. He’s got to take another trip this next week and he wants to be fit and ready, so don’t count on him much this week. Domino then said that him and Switchblade where going fishing today and were taking the Hatteras out with some of the helpers. I owe them a day off and today looks like a good day, fairly calm, not to windy, and a clear day. Not like the South China sea Mars. He said, then asked, Now where’s the coffee canteen?

Plenty of thoughts flashed through my head about the South China sea then, and I remembered getting blown out of the water from the gasoline explosion when we took all the gun fire from a enemy ship. Little did I know that I was unconscious, and being saved by Domino who had a badly damaged and broken leg. The single wooden oar from one of the Zodiak lifeboats, and part of a hatch cover, that became our rescue vessel for the next day and a half.

Ok then, I said. Mac, you come with me today and we’ll head up to Jacksonville, and try to get some info on this Alex guy. Sounds good to me, He replied. Domino threw me the keys to one of his Hummers’ that where parked under the house and said. Take the red one, it needs a bath also! He smiled and headed back towards the gym door. Now the day was set, Arturo Gentry was going south to Miami, Spender was training, Domino and Switchblade fishing, and Mac and I were hot dogging the red Hummer to Jacksonville to find something on Alex Smith. Before we left for Jacksonville I made another phone call to the hospital and checked on Sara Adams. She had already checked out and was discharged. I then called her house and there was no answer, but I left a message, and that I would call her back this evening.

The morning was beautiful and the air seemed dry as the slight breeze blew from the west. The flags hanging outside the gates moved slightly in the breeze. This was going to be a great day, little did we know what was in store for us. So far, things were great, nice weather, good friends, and we were Humming.

As we left, and just a few miles north I noticed in the mirror that a Jaguar car had pulled out onto the interstate from a side restricted area on the highway, for road repair vehicles only. It was keeping pace with us and not gaining or loosing any speed. Mac I said, We’ve got company. Yeah I saw that black guy behind the as we went by him back there, He said. I hate black cars and Jaguars, He added. Oh well, keep a clip in, and stay focused, I said. It’s to pretty to get ugly so early, I added. Just then it occurred to me about the dirty Hummer, and a good chance to find out about this Jaguar car thing. I told Mac to look for a carwash at one of the exits coming up, and my plan about the Jaguar.

We were approaching the I210 loop exit when Mac spoke up and said Carwash, carwash, off to the right at the Exxon station. Yep, there it was, and as we exited in the direction of the carwash, the Jag turned also and followed. I told Mac to jump out when I pulled around the next corner, so the black guy wouldn’t see him, and then I would turn into the car wash. There was no line waiting for the carwash at the time, when I pulled up to the front and got out. I saw the jag go by slowly, and was looking hard to see me. I hoped Mac got a better look at him and at least the license number. I had paid for the wash job and was waiting at the towel off area of the carwash when Mac walked up and said, Hi there big guy, looking for a good time? I smiled at him and said, No thanks honey, I have AIDS. We both laughed and he handed me a post-it size slip of paper between his fingers and said, And the number is da, da, dump, de, yea! I looked at the paper and only a goon would have such a license plate number, SMITTY.

After the car wash we headed to the Jacksonville police station. I wanted to get more info on this Alex Smith guy. I had to shake my head about the license number, that was half of the reason for driving up here. I could get his address now, and take care of this sleaze ball later. First I wanted to get his prior arrest lists and just see who this lowlife was connected to.

As we entered the police station to get some info about aka, Smitty, I noticed a poster that said, Officers Beware, about a Teamster strike, and that a meeting was going to start this afternoon at the local Teamster office, on Front street, at the Waste Disposal site. Hum, I said then added, Look at this! Mac looked at me and said, Yeah, what a coincidence huh? Well it seemed to be a east coast thing right now, Harrisburg Pa. and Jacksonville Fl., at the same time, and the sleaze ball Alex Smith at both places. We finally found what we were looking for and was told to go down stairs and see Jane Johnson and ask her to pull up the Alex Smith records for us. She was more than willing to help us once she seen my papers and I.D. cards. I also asked her if she had access the DMV records, and she agreed to get his driving records for us. When she returned with his driving records, she said, Ok, this guy lives in Baldwinsville, not far from here. She then handed me a copy of his file, and I thanked her. Next time we do lunch on me. I said as I smiled and turned around and headed for the door.

So, there it was a das work completed already, and plenty of time to cruise by the Front street Teamsters office and see if we could find our Alex Smith. As we neared the location, there was a lot of cop cars parked everywhere, and at the Front street stoplight, a officer pointed at us and motioned us to turn right. We did that and then looked for a safe place to park the Red Hummer. As we got out of the car, Mac said, Clip in, and my radar is working boss. I told him to watch my back and I would do the same.

A small group of people stood outside the Teamsters office, holding signs saying Unfair to Higher prices, and keep the Teamsters out of the garbage business. This to me seemed to be a political stunt to cause hate and discontent between the independents and the Teamsters and try to help muscle in the Mob controlled trash hauling garbage businesses. Well, this isn’t pretty at all. Let’s get out of here now and swing by Baldwinsville, and see if Alex Smith is home yet.’ I said, then added, I really don’t want to be here later today, this could get ugly.

We stopped on the way west to Baldwinsville for a sandwich and a beer. We listened to some of the guys that were at the counter talking about unemployment and the unfair Teamsters acts. We were setting in a booth and I was taking a drink of my beer, and looking out the window of the roadside diner, when I saw the black Jag in the fast lane, He saw our red Hummer and at the last second, hit the brakes hard and cut in front of car in the slower lane and came skidding into the parking lot. Mac, looky there, our friend again, give me your gun. I said. Mac reached inside his jacket and slid his gun across the counter and said, Clip in, chocked, safety on sir. I eased out of the booth as everyone in the dinner heard the car outside. I eased my way out of the booth. A couple of the customers saw the gun I had in my hand, but never said a word. As I headed out the side door to the parking lot, the black guy in the jag saw me and lowered the passenger side window and took aim and squeezed of two rounds at me but missed. I then took aim at his front tire and shot twice, then I aimed at the rear tire and squeezed of two more shots. He tried to leave the parking lot, but veered hard to the right and ran into the back of a parked car.

Now that things were getting exciting, I felt the rush of adrenaline fill my head with instinctive things to do at this point. The impact of the Jag hitting the parked car, forced the driver to drop and loose his gun, and when he was bending over to find it, I rushed up to the car and stuck my gun next to his head and said, Hold it right there sleaze bag, hands in the air, it‘s over now! Knowing at this point he didn’t have a chance, he set up in the seat and didn’t move. Mac ran up to the car and opened the drivers door and grabbed the guy by the hair and drug him out and threw him on the ground. Mac said to him, Boy, you really know how to fuck up things. Here Mac, put these cuffs on the prick, I said as I tossed him the cuffs I had in my pant-leg pocket.

Off in the distance there was the sound of a squad car coming, and it wouldn’t take long to get this issue taken care of. Just then one of the cook’s from the restaurant came out holding a shotgun and said, Need any help here? I smiled at the guy and said to him, Thanks but no thanks, we’ll let the police handle it from here, I said. Oh yes, one more thing, do you know who owns that Grand prix, that this scum-bag just hit? The cook laughed and smiled and said, Yes, that’s my x-wife’s car! Just too damn bad for her huh? He laughed again and stepped back into the restaurant.

When the cops got there they asked what was going on and I told them everything about Alex Smith, and that he was wanted in Harrisburg for attempted murder and for shooting Sara Adams, and now for trying to kill us. I also told them about aka SMITTY following us to Jacksonville and the Teamster involvement and the garbage businesses, and him finding us as we were heading to his Baldwinsville address. Ok, we’ll take this guy in for now and you can follow up on this tomorrow, The patrolman said. Here’s my card and phone number, He said. "Give me a call in the morning and we’ll discuss getting this

Dirt bag, out of here for you. Ok thanks, everything is looking good at this point then, I said. Hey Mac, did you pay the tab inside? I asked. What? You cheap asshole! He replied. Lunch is on you Mars, not me! After walking back into the diner to pay our bill, the cook looked up and was smiling and held up his hands like, Oh Well, and went back to work. Before leaving the parking lot, I looked over at the area that Alex Smith had shot at me, and I saw that one of the bullets had hit the newspaper rack beside where I came out the side door. I looked inside the stack of papers and magazines and there it was, a 9mm bullet. Thank you Alex, I said to myself as I picked it up and tossed it up into the air and grabbed it and placed it in my vest pocket.

The trip back to Daytona was un-eventful as far as, drama and any Alex Smith types. It gave us plenty of time to talk about the past and Mac’s life. I asked him about his sons, and what they were doing now. He told me many things about his eldest son, and that he had finally grew out of his hyper childhood, but that he was still on medications until his early twenties, and now he was grown up enough to try to make it on his own, and that he had decided to start driving truck for a living. It was perfect for him, a loner, in love with the road, and happy. He also told me that his youngest son still hated him and that he was living with and taking care of his mother. She is still alive, Mac said. "Broke, no money, of mine left from the divorce, and crazy and hateful as ever. Mac also had to tell me the story again about the divorce settlement where she got 50% of everything he had earned and invested in and saved for all of his life, and that she give it all away to the preacher man that conned her into believing he loved her and it was right for her to let him invest everything she owned into his belief in the lord. She wrote the checks, he took the money. Plain and simple, the next thing she knew, all she had was broken down old trailer house in the Arizona woods, and a million+ dollars missing, along with a preacher man gone!

As we entered Domino’s compound, I could see that we were the first car back, and maybe we would see Spender, and get to talk to him before everybody started showing up. I parked the Hummer and we were on our way up the stairs, when we heard voice call out. Hey, wait, help me out of here please! It was Spender’s voice, coming from somewhere down behind us. As we entered back into the parking area a voice came from a maintenance shed to the right. Over here you guys, I’m locked in the shed! Oh this is neat, a super double 0 agent, locked in a maintenance shed. I really can’t wait for this explanation.

As I unlatched the deadbolt and opened the door to the maintenance shed, I noticed a shovel laying on the ground in front of the door.

Well, you won’t believe what happened here, a voice said from inside the doorway. I tired to go in the door, but it kept wanting to close itself, so I propped it open with that shovel, and came in here to get a water skimmer net for the pool and was going to skim out a couple of palm leaves from the pool before I jump in, and the door closed behind me! Oh sure, I replied, that’s likely I guess, and if that is the best you can do, then so be it. I said smiling.

Spencer is a well built person who carries quite a few scares on his back and shoulders from gun shots and knifing injuries. His chest looked the same and had plenty of stitch mark scares from operations to save him and keep him going. We headed out towards the pool with Spencer in the lead carrying the skimmer for the pool duty that he was getting ready to perform. Then, asking out loud, Did you find out anything today? I replied first, Yeah, quite a bit, we’ve got one guy in jail already. Just then Mac spoke up, Yes, you missed a good one. Good old Mars here shot out the tires on the car that was after us, and we cuffed the prick and he’s in cool-down right now in Baldwinsville. Spencer spoke loudly, Hey, grab us a gin and tonic from that cooler, will ya? Just then he jumped into the pool and was holding onto the skimmer, like he was carrying a rifle that he was trying to keep from getting wet. Then he swiped at a couple of palm leaves and got them out of the pool. As I was just about to sit down, Mac handed me a tonic drink and said, No charge for the first one sir. He smiled and we waited for the Spender to join us.

I called Sara Adams about the good news of her shooter, and she was pleased about that. She also told me that a couple more of their trucks had been vandalized last night, and I wasn’t finished with the case just yet. I assured her that Alex Smith wasn’t done talking yet and that he should start singing tomorrow, He’s a three time looser now, and should have a lot to tell us, I said then added, He’ll want to cop a deal here just to keep from doing life in prison.

After talking to Sara Adams, I joined the rest of the group for drinks, then later a fish dinner, and a movie. Later on that night, I smiled about what had happened today, and the score is, plus one, for the good guys! Minus one, for the bad guys.

CHAPTER TWO

T he next morning the temperature outside was cool and breezy blowing in off the ocean, as I jogged towards the beach. The clouds were quickly passing overhead and I could smell the surf tides as they gently rolled in and over the sands. After jogging northwards for about twenty minutes, I stopped to catch my breath, and I noticed big shoe prints in the sand heading south, and going up to the densely covered area of shrubs and saw grass. As I continued to follow this tral to find out who this person was that had such large shoes, I caught a quick light reflection of something shinning from a palm or cypress tree just up ahead of me. I quickly squatted and sneaked behind the bushes to find cover. This is private property, and someone with big feet shouldn’t be here. I moved slowly and low to the ground, trying to get another look at whatever caused the light reflection I had seen. I had no weapons on me and I would be a sitting duck for someone armed. The wind had stopped and it was pretty quiet now, and I thought I heard limbs breaking, as someone was heading off quickly. I jumped up and ran to the closest tree, where I saw the shoe prints of two people. One large set of prints, and one smaller set of prints that looked like they could be from a woman’s size. After looking around the tree area, I looked up and saw two cameras and listening devices securely taped to the tree about ten feet above me. I then shinnied up the tree and cut the cameras and devices loose from the tree. I took off my t-shirt and placed the cameras in it so not to disturb the fingerprints. Then as I headed down the tree I heard a beep sound from one of the cameras,