The Case of Mistaken Identity a Hart of the Matter series #1

By John Henry "Doc" Holliday

Bo “Didley” Hart and his side-kick Phredrica J. Fox take on their first case as Private Investigators. The twists and turns they uncover will not only solve the case, but become live changing experiences for both. Fasten your seat belt and get ready for the ride......

This story is the first of the series of three “Hart of the Matter” novellas. The second story “the Case of the Conniving Conundrum” will follow soon, followed by the last book of the series, “the Case of the Misplaced Cicada“.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Henry "Doc" Holliday
• Release date: Jan 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005493189

John Henry "Doc" Holliday

The first novel for John Henry “Doc” Holliday, no kin to his namesake., was written at age 60. Doc is a storyteller who weaves the elements of his stories into the written word in the form of a novel.He is not schooled in or studied books on the writing. He avoided reading novels by other writers to not influence or corrupt his own outpourings. In additional to the stories, Doc has written many verses of prose and song lyrics. There will be other stories that will be produced as novels in the near future. His first novel "Cartel El Corazón Negro".His second novel “Rise of the Sanguine Moon”. A detective series "The Hart of the Matter" is a three book series #1 The Case of Mistaken Identity, #2 The Case of the Conniving Conundrum and #3 The Case of the Misplaced Cicada. A love story "A One in a Million Chance of a Lifetime".

Book preview

Chapter One

In a nondescript building on the lower east side of town, in a smoke filled second floor office, sat Bo Hart; puffing on a Cohiba cigar, Cuban of course, the only leaves he would allow to grace his lips. His desk was littered with a week’s worth of mail that he had piled in one corner. The only light in the room coming from a green shaded Tiffany lamp, glowing on the crossword puzzle he was working through. It had been another quiet week of a so far quiet year that his start-up business had suffered. His somewhat trusty assistant, Phredrica J. Fox, Phred for short, had taken a few days off to try and recover from a bad case of boredom. The two had served together in Desert Storm as investigators for the MPs and had been re-united stateside in a chance meeting at a VA Hospital.

Bo, whose platoon leader had nick-named him Didley, because he was known for doing squat; had blown off his right foot while cleaning his rifle. Though the Doctors worked feverously to save it, ultimately they had to amputate his leg from the knee down, due to infection. It was on a visit to be fitted with his new state-of-the-art artificial leg, where he would run into Phred, who was there visiting a wounded friend.

Both shared their tales of woe on finding jobs and life in general. Then Bo allowed that he had won fifty-thousand dollars on a lottery scratch-off and was about to launch a business. Phred, can’t you just see that neon sign flashing Bo Didley Hart, Esquire P.I. on the side of the building? he asked. Phred was a small-town Southern gal, not easily impressed by frills and frou-frou, but she and Bo had bonded during three days trapped in a desert foxhole and she could never hurt his feelings. Neon, why Bo that is just so you, she answered, I just can’t wait to see it. He smiled at her left-handed compliment, then promptly stuck his foot in his mouth. Well, now his other foot because he hadn’t yet been fitted with his new bionic one. Anyway, without giving much thought to it, he said, You know Phred, I’m gonna need an assistant and hell, we would make a great team. Of course, he never intended or expected she would accept and was speechless when she responded, Why Bo, that sounds great, when do I start? Bo who normally was never at a loss for words, found himself scrambling now. Oh, uh, well, let me see, I’ll, uh, need to find an office and you know, get some furniture, oh yeah and of course get my license and all, so, uh, you know I guess I don’t know, he rambled through, And I’m getting a new leg today and well you know it’s probably gonna take me a while to get used to it and all. She knew him too well and just smiled at his tom-foolery, then responded, Heck, that’s no problem, I’ve got nowhere to be or nothing to do. I’ll drive you around and help you pick everything out. Shoot that will be like old times. Bo hadn’t felt this trapped since he had locked himself in his school locker, his freshman year. But, the deal was done and there was no turning back now. Shake, she uttered. Hunh, Bo replied. You know, shake on our deal, we can discuss my needs later, she concluded with a grin. Bo felt like a catfish just noodled from his hiding spot. He had to shake her hand and could only imagine what her needs would be. Just then the Therapist called Bo to come to the fitting room, He moved as quickly as he could, but Phred followed with a card in hand. Bo, wait a minute, here’s my number, call me soon, she requested, I’m so excited. He took the card and put it in his pocket.

As he sat on the fitting table, his mind was on the new deal he had just fallen into. The Therapist had to chastise him to pay attention on how to attach his bionic leg and the walking therapy that he would need to follow. Mr. Hart, are you listening to me? the Therapist asked, Your new leg is just what you needed. Bo snickered, answering, No maam, I need a mouth transplant. I may be the only man in history to win 50 G’s in the lottery and blow it on a whim of my big mouth. The Therapist laughed, replying, Well that certainly sounds like a plot for a book. Or a reason to jump out that window, Bo stated as he pointed to the office window. Now that would be some trick, Mr. Hart, the Therapist laughed, You see, we are in the basement and that window is as fake as your new leg. Bo found no humor in her comparison. He resigned himself to practice putting on and taking off his new attachment. Then the Therapist took him to a therapy room where he would practice walking on two limbs for the first time in years.

Six weeks later, Bo had mastered his new addition to the point that with the matching boot he wore, no one could tell he was walking on an artificial limb. One day he took a walk in the local park, fate would again throw him a curve. As he made his way up a steep incline, he lost his balance and tumbled down the hill, ending up face down in a mud hole. A stranger had screamed as she witnessed the fall and ran to Bo’s aid. She turned Bo over and began to wipe his face clean of the caked-on mud. Bo was still stunned and not fully focused on the face of the angel that had come to save him. Bo! she exclaimed. Phred? Bo blurted. What the hell were you thinking? Phred asked, And what’s up with the two legs? Bo spit some mud out as he coughed and giggled at the same time, pluaah, I was just testing my bionic leg and I guess I need to work on hill climbing. Oh, wow, you got your new leg, she uttered, Can I feel it? Sure, rub your hand over it and see how hard graphite steel is, Bo insisted. She took her hand and ran it up Bo’s leg saying, Oh, wow, Bo it is really hard! Uh, Phred, Bo embarrassingly replied, It’s the other leg.

Chapter Two

Oh, oh! she exclaimed, realizing her mistake and quickly removing her hand. It’s okay, no harm , no foul, Bo laughingly replied, as she joined him, Now if you could just help me up, I sure would appreciate it. Hmmm, let me see, she began, Weren’t you supposed to call me? And, didn’t you offer me a job? And now you want my help. Seems that this calls for a little re-negotiation. Bo sat in the puddle, muddling his circumstance. Re-negotiate, damn, I don’t remember negotiating, he thought to himself, but what choice do I have now? Come on Phred, give me a break, I’m stuck here, he finally answered. Un-huh and in more ways than one, she chided, So the answer is yes Phred, anything you want Phred, right? Oh, shit, okay, okay, just help me up, he blurted. She helped him up , wiped off the excess mud, got a plastic sheet from her trunk, wrapped him in it and drove him home.

She chattered the whole way, expressing ideas she had to decorate the office and of course all the items she would need. His mind was only on getting home and away from her as soon as possible. But, the fickle finger of fate would once again intrude into his day. Upon arrival, Phred insisted on seeing his abode. How could he say no? He opened the door and excused himself to go and shower. He took his time, letting the hot water run on his neck. He hoped his delay would have caused Phred to depart. Oh contraire, she had made herself at home, even popping a couple of beers and pouring a bowl of chips. He exited his bedroom adorned only in a towel, expecting to find an empty room. But no, there sat Phred, kicked back, watching HGTV from his sofa. She gazed at him, saying, Man, I don’t even take that long, what were you cleaning? And, dude, your fake leg is the bomb, but won’t it rust if you get it wet? He just couldn’t let his disappointment of her presence be known, so he just smiled, replying, No it’s titanium, you know the same stuff jets are made of. And glad to see you made yourself at home. Oh, yeah, here’s your beer, she stated, Now come on over here and sit so we can talk about our future. He could see what was left of his fifty-thousand flying out the window. Stall, yeah, stall her, he thought. Sure, sure, just let me go throw some pants on," he insisted.

He about jumped out of his new leg when as he dropped his towel, her voice came from behind him, I can see your bedroom needs a woman’s touch, too, she stated. Damn it Phred, what the hell! he exclaimed as he grabbed to retrieve his towel, Does the word privacy mean anything to you? She sighed, responding, Oh geez Bo, it’s not like I haven’t seen you in the all in all before, you know in the desert when you mooned me in the moonlight, as she giggled. That was an accident, oh you’re impossible, can you at least leave while I get dressed? he pled.

Dressed and a little calmer, he returned to his den to find her on beer number two. He grabbed his beer and plopped down on the sofa, away from her. He didn’t even look her way, but the silence was deafening and he finally turned to her to say, I’m sorry I yelled at you, to see tears running down her face. He had never been great with any woman, especially if they cried. He had never seen her cry before, even under the worst battlefield conditions. He was at a loss for words, but knew he had to say something to make her quit. His self-imposed guilt of being responsible for the tears provided him a platform to attempt some humor by saying, Gee Phred, you really look cute with your make-up running like that. Oh, if looks could kill? She grimaced her face and stared into his eyes, as she gritted her teeth to expel, Do they make ball replacements? Because one more remark like that and you are going to need them. Just the thought caused him to close his legs tightly. Uh, just kidding Phred, now come on what’s wrong? he asked.

She went on to explain that since the last time she had seen him, life had dealt her some pretty tough lessens. The man she thought was Mr. Right, not only turned out to be Mr. Wrong, but had also emptied her bank account, took the rent money and gotten her evicted. Bo took it all in and tried to process the how and why of it all. But above all, he suddenly felt empathy for her. His sweet side emerged and with a couple of uhs and ums before he could completely process his intentions, he essentially invited her to move in with him. Before the words had even settled, she had flown from her end of the sofa to squeeze and kiss Bo all over his face. Oh, my Lord, what have I done? he queried in his mind, as he gasped for air. I’ll get my things! she exclaimed as she ran out the door.

Bo sat stunned over his own doing as a commercial for a new how to book began to play, ‘The stupid things people do to themselves and why.’ Bo just shook his head and said out loud, boy do I need to get that book.

His thought was interrupted as she flew back in the door with two suitcases and a backpack. This is really happening, he realized, now how the hell am I going to get out of this one? Too late. Well, now let me see, she began as she hit the bedroom, I’ll take half the closet and um, give you the top two drawers so you won’t have to bend over, and I like my stuff on the right side of the sink, I hope you are good with that. He just stood there in silence, taking it all in, Oh, and another thing, don’t you ever leave the toilet seat up, if I fall in there will be hell to pay. Bo started pinching himself hoping this was all just a really bad dream. Hmmm, one bedroom, I guess we will just have to share the bed. Finally, Bo thought, my first benefit. She continued, You get it Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday and I’ll take it Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday. Bo was in total stunned mode. First a roommate, now a bed sharer, wait this isn’t a bad dream it’s a fucking nightmare, ran through his mind. So, how does that sound? a gleeful Phred posed. His mind was still trying to process the litany of orders that his previously simple life had just inherited. Bo! she blurted, Did you hear anything I just said?" What choice did he have now? He pondered why the hell he had ever gone on that damn walk to begin with. Was this God punishing him for not going to church? The Devil testing his moxie? Whatever it was, his world had a new ruler and it wasn’t him.

Chapter Three

Night number one would have its moments. Even though it was Sunday, Phred called dibs on the bed. Bo was just too tired to argue and grabbed a pillow, sheets and a blanket then headed to the pullman sleeper in the den. They watched some TV while Phred wrote down their to-do lists for Monday. Bo wasn’t thrilled, but realized without her motivation he might never live his dream of becoming a private