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Curiousity Is Deadly
Curiousity Is Deadly
Curiousity Is Deadly
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Curiousity Is Deadly

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LanguageEnglish
PublisherXlibris US
Release dateAug 12, 2009
ISBN9781469107790
Curiousity Is Deadly
Author

D. K. Hale

I was born on May 30,1953. I am the oldest of seven children. I grew up on the family farm in a little place named Smith Corner, P.A.. I found my gift for writting in Jr. High School. My literiture teacher used to give us a subject and told us to write either a short story or a poem about the subject. I excelled in this area and I always landed an A+ on all of my work. But, it wasn't until high school that my new literature teacher took notice in my gift and he dicided to push me harder than all of his other students. His name was Mr. Showers. I learned everything I could from him. He was very honest about the difficulity of becoming a successfull writer in the 70's. He didn't lie about how expensive it was or how brutal editor's could on new writers. Coming from a very poor family it was more economical to get a more realistic job. Many decades later I got a letter from an old and very dear friend of mine. He made me promise to go do the path of my true destiny. I was destined to be a write and it was about high time that I started. He told me that something else that really hit home in the deepest part of my being. He said that I was entering the second cycle of my life and it was time I lived it my way and not anyone else's. So, I returned to New Orleans and reestablished myself. I have lived in New Orleans on and off since 1975. Then Katrina hit. I left New Orleans before she hit. Now I find myself working my way back to the only place that I have ever called Home. I started writing. I lost my friend on 9-11-01. He and all of my other friends didn't make it. They are the reason for all of my inspiration. I intend to keep the promise I made to all of them. I love writing and that is how I intend to live out the rest of my life. Writing. I hope everyone who reads my books gets more pleasure reading them than I have gotten writting them. Thank You All: D.K.Hale

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    Book preview

    Curiousity Is Deadly - D. K. Hale

    Copyright © 2009 by D. K. Hale.

    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.

    This book was printed in the United States of America.

    To order additional copies of this book, contact:

    Xlibris Corporation

    1-888-795-4274

    www.Xlibris.com

    Orders@Xlibris.com

    56210

    Contents

    Introduction

    Chapter One

    Chapter Two

    Chapter Three

    Chapter Four

    Chapter Five

    Chapter Six

    Chapter Seven

    Chapter Eight

    Chapter Nine

    Chapter Ten

    Chapter Eleven

    Chapter Twelve

    Chapter Thirteen

    Epolog

    DEDICATION

    This book is dedicated to the following people. Every now and then we all need someone to remind us who we really are. And, remind us to go for it with gusto. So, thanks.

    Mr. M. John Leitis

    Mrs. Carol Leitis

    And

    Ms. Tammie Holsinger

    Thank you for reminding me to never stop dreaming and Never stop living my dreams. Because, that is what life is all about. Thanks, I love all of you.

    To my true YA-YA Sisters,

    Michelle Balzano

    Gloria V. Beal Diaczenko

    Mel Lawrance

    Tammie Holsinger

    Amy Hammel

    I could not have done this without your help.

    YA-YA!

    A.L.F.A.

    D

    Introduction

    It started out no different than any other day.

    I went to work at the office and I put in my usual morning of insanity. As usual, everything that had to done was ear-marked P.D.Q./A.S.A.P. yesterday. Par for the course. Every night when we leave, our desks are empty and clear of work. The next morning we walk through the doors to find that our desks runnith over with work, again, all ear-marked the sameway as the day before.

    Today was no different. As usual, everyone in my department, including myself, had to work full bore to get caught up again. Then we all went for our one hour lunch. That’s when everything changed.

    I was sitting at one of my favorite café’s in downtown D.C. having lunch. Nothing out of the ordinary. I was just eating lunch alone, minding my own business, doing what I always do when I’m at the café. Watching people. That’s right, I study people. That’s all I was doing when some-thing, or rather, someone caught my attention.

    Before I realized what had happened, I found myself sticking my nose in where it had no place being.

    It’s called Curiosity.

    There’s just one little problem with curiosity.

    Unlike the preverbal cat, humans do not come back to life with satisfaction. Once you are dead, you stay dead.

    I know better than that. I’m a professional. Now I can’t turn back. I’ve put myself in a very dangerous and deadly place. What really bites is that I have no one to blame for this mess except myself.

    So let me give you some very good advice.

    Curiosity does not bring you back with satisfaction. Curiosity can and will kill you. Once you are dead, you stay dead.

    I am the best at what I do in both of my career’s. No one is better than I am. I am the best there is at staying one step ahead of danger and death and coming out of it completely unscathed, smelling like a rose.

    Now, I’m not so sure I will come out of this unharmed or alive. But, it’s too late now. I cannot turn my back and just walk away. Not on this one. I have to see this job through. I have no other alternative but to remain involved in this to the end.

    All I have to do is remain undetected and invisible.

    Otherwise, I won’t be the only walking corpse around here.

    Who am I, you ask?

    You figure it out.

    What am I?

    Who do I work for?

    What kind of work do I do?

    You figure it out.

    Aaahhhaaa . . . . . . . . . .Now you are asking yourselves the sixty-five million dollar question.

    Am I male or female?

    Good luck figuring that one out, if you can.

    What I have interfered with is one monster of an operation. The safety and security of the entire country and its citizens fall onto the shoulders of one person ( and myself).

    That person is a woman. She is without a doubt, the bravest, most courageous and most fearless human being I have ever encountered in my life.

    She is not just any woman either. She is a cop. She is a Detective of Homicide with the New York City Police Department, on loan to the Washington D. C. Police Department. Or so it would seem.

    There is more to this female cop than meets the eye. That’s what got me into this mess in the first place.

    Her name is . . . . . . . . . ..Star.

    Trust me, if anyone can save the human race, Star can. With a little extra help from me of course.

    I promise you one thing, you will not become bored reading this book. I promise you the same in the second book being released shortly after this one.

    Welcome on board and enjoy the ride.

    Bye, Bye Now:

    Guess Who

    Chapter One

    Lunch time. My favorite time of the day. After five hours of non-stop finger pounding work and living on the phone, the fax machines, the scanners, the copiers and the stacks of never ending work coming through the door, everyone in my department, including myself, have managed to clear our desks of the workload we came into this morning. This is one lunch hour we have more than earned. And I, for one, intend to thoroughly enjoy it.

    I am sitting at my favorite café. I am savoring a delicious dessert and a fresh cup of coffee, after enjoying a wonderful meal, enjoying my greatest pass time. Watching people. I study people as they pass by or as they sit around me having their meals.

    The two tables in front of me are empty for now. I have a perfect view of the sidewalk, street and the sidewalk across the street.

    The city is packed with people today. This is one of the few days in Washington D. C. with absolutely perfect weather. It is a lovely mid July day indeed.

    I have my eyes on a rather interesting pair of businessmen walking past the café. I was just focusing in on them when my concentration was disrupted by a flash of white.

    It was an attractive blonde dressed in a white summer dress, matching sandal pumps and a white hat with a Peacock feather in the hat band.

    She has very short, blonde hair, green eyes and a perfect tan.

    She is either a trust fund baby or married to an executive with one hell of a financial portfolio.

    There is no way in hell that she is a member of the working class. Not dressed in designer summer white originals. There is no way anyone who works for a living can keep summer whites that clean. Ask anyone who works for a living and they will all tell you the same thing. White is used as a coordinating accent only. White gets dirty way too easy. Just try wearing white to work yourself some time and see how long it stays clean?

    You will soon find out what I mean.

    The lady in white sat down at the table directly in front of me, blocking my view, and started speaking. Speaking to no one! Or so I thought.

    That’s when I heard the voice of another woman, before I saw her.

    The lady in white kept apologizing for being late. Then poof! That’s when I saw her. She had been sitting there when I arrived for lunch and I never noticed her. I notice everyone. It’s my job, as well as my hobby.

    I’ll be damned. According to their conversation the other young lady had been waiting at that table for Miss White Dress for over two and a half hours. And man I can tell you one thing for sure, Miss Invisible is very, very pissed off at Miss White Dress.

    The lady in waiting stands around 5 foot 6 inches tall. She is pure blooded American Indian. From her bone structure, she’s either Sioux or Cherokee. She has waist long, natural black hair and she is built. I can see her eight pack through her black leather vest, white oxford shirt and black leather pants. You should see her biceps and her legs. She has every man in the restaurant drooling and foaming at the mouth. Naturally, all the women are jealous and hate her passionately because they aren’t her. I can’t see her eyes for the sunglasses she’s wearing. Not many people, male or female, can ware leather. Leather isn’t for just anyone. Very few people can make leather look good. She can and does. She is chiseled and ripped. One good look at her tells you that this is no mere woman. Not by a long shot. She is a fighter, pure and simple. This is one woman who isn’t in the least bit afraid to kill anyone who is stupid enough to mess with her. She has been trained. And I dare say, that she has been trained by the very best.

    Miss White Dress is trying her damnedest to get out of hot water with The Lady In Waiting. Listen to the conversation.

    Miss White Dress: Star, I’m so sorry to be running so late. But, I had a thousand things to do on my way here. I thought that you would be running late yourself, since you were taking your sail boating test. I figured you wouldn’t have very long to wait for me to get here.

    So, your name is Star, interesting. And who is this other person watching you?

    No time to bother with this person.

    Star: Oh, now you have really pissed me off Zacks. I was here right on time! You said be here at 10:30 a. m. . . . . . . . sharp!

    It’s 1:17 p. m.! You have a goddamned cell phone Zacks. I have called you every half hour, leaving you one message after another to call me and tell me if you were coming or not!

    The last message was for you to call me back A.S.A.P.! Where in the fuck have you been?!

    I called you at the house and left you messages to call me. I called your cell phone. I even called your mother and left messages with her for you to call me back. I even called Jake looking for you.

    Unlike you Zacks, my time is worth money. I told you days ago that I had a full schedule today. I have appointments that I have to keep, places I have to be and things I have to get done. But no, you just had to call me, didn’t you?

    You just had to ruin my one and only day off.

    YOU TOLD ME THIS LITTLE MEETING WAS IMPORTANT! YOU TOLD ME TO BE HERE ON TIME! I WAS!

    Star was speaking in a hissing, whispery, growling voice. Then she smashed her fist on the table and pointing her index finger, in a dangerous matter of fact manner, at the lady in white at all of the appropriate times during their conversation. Star isn’t finished with the lady in white yet. The conversation continues.

    Star: Where were you Zacks?

    Everyone who knows me, knows I have never, ever been late for anything in my life. Not for work, not for appointments, not even for school! I have never missed a days work in my entire working life. I never even missed a single day of school from kindergarten through college or the police academy.

    How Dare you put me in the same classification as you!

    You called me, remember?

    So, what do I do?

    I cut my sailing lesson short, return to port and then I have to delay my flight schedule to leave two hours later than scheduled.

    Why?

    Because You said it was important and that You would be here at exactly 10:30!

    Star is livid. She just hissed, in a low growl at Zacks and just smashed her fist onto the table again. This time with so much force that all of the silverware hit the floor! She is so pissed off at this Zacks woman, that she is on the verge of foaming at the mouth and going into a rabid rage.

    Star: I was here, early! Where the fuck were you?

    And why couldn’t you return any of my calls?

    Why isn’t your cell phone on Zacks?

    Answer me Zacks and it had better be good or it’s your ass. Do you understand me?

    Zacks: Well, the kids had to be in four different places and I had to drop them off. Each stop was on the way here. Casey is too young to be driving with his brother and sisters in that car Jake helped him buy. I just didn’t want them in this traffic without me. After all Star, they are my babies. These people drive too fast for my babies to be driving in all the way from the base to Old Town Alexandria.

    Then I had to go back to the house to change and I just couldn’t decide on what to wear. It took me forever to do my hair, make-up and nails.

    Before I knew it, time just flew by. I can’t believe I forgot all about my phone not being on.

    You don’t know how hard my life is Star.

    Jake is being such a jerk lately. His comments to me lately are down right mean and uncalled for.

    Between him, his mother, my mother and the kids all bitching at me all of the time, I’m about to go insane!

    All I hear about is how irresponsible I am with money and time. Or, how I spend too much money on stupid stuff and that now I have to stop maxing out my credit cards or else. Then comes the great lecture on the subject of all I do is waste, waste, waste. Oh, and now, I am wasting too much gas and at the price of gas now, I have no choice but to make every drop stretch as far as possible. So now I have to tell Jake everywhere I go, why I have to go there, who I am seeing or spending time with and why! If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that he’s having me followed. I wouldn’t put it past him. Sometimes I wonder if he has had my phone tapped? That wouldn’t surprise me either. I just don’t know what to do anymore Star!

    If you were married and had kids, then you’d know what hard work really is. I’m lucky if I get the time to do my nails once a week! They are all making me crazy!

    Star, I really need your help. Please, tell me what to do?

    Zacks, all of your responses were the wrong ones. You just signed your own death certificate. You really are an idiot.

    Star is beyond angry. Star is trying to control pure, unadulterated rage now.

    The urge to kill is filling the very air around her. She is thirsting for fresh blood. Zacks’ blood to be exact.

    Star doesn’t have to remover her sun glasses for me to know that her eyes are filled with hate, rage and the urge to kill. Trust me, they are. As of now the gloves are off and the war is on. And Zacks is too stupid, selfish and self-centered to even notice. Then, Star really ripped into her. She attacked Zacks like a tigress protecting both her young and her territory. It is a beautiful thing to watch. I enjoyed and savored every second of it to.

    You see, I despise poor little rich kids with a deep seated passion. They are nothing but pity junkies. They have to be the center of everyone’s attention and the center of everyone’s universe.

    Now, you get to find out for yourselves just how sweet and beautiful this next scene really is.

    Star: I don’t have children ?

    I don’t have a husband ?

    Right, uh-hu. Once upon a time, in my life, that was the case. Then my life was cursed by you the second you crossed the thresh hold of my life.

    Yeah, that’s right Zacks, I don’t have kids or a husband.

    The hell I don’t Zacks! All of a sudden, one day, when I wasn’t looking, I wound up with four children. Four of them Zacks! Your children somehow became mine. You dumped all four of your kids on my door step and into my life when

    I wasn’t looking. Then you did the same thing with your husband! Suddenly overnight, I went from being a single cop, to a cop who became a substitute wife and mother!

    What’s with that Zacks?!

    I don’t know what hard work is?

    I don’t know what hard work is, Zacks?!

    FUCK YOU ZACKS!!!!! FUCK YOU!

    You haven’t worked, or done anything even close to work, in your entire selfish, self-centered, conceded, worthless, spoiled-rotten, poor little rich girl life!

    You wouldn’t know hard work if it walked up to you and bitch slapped you right in that ugly face of yours!

    You don’t have the slightest idea or clue what hard work is. All you do is sit on that lazy, blue silk, cry-baby, boney ass of yours eating chocolates, caviar and steak, whinnying about nothing just so you can hear yourself talk.

    You are too much of a lily-livered coward to work. God forbid that you get just one speck of dust on you, much less get real dirt on you, for fear that you might chip a fucking nail!

    You don’t know how to work. You don’t know what work is nor do you have the faintest clue how to work!

    Go to Hell you wench. Go straight to Hell, you lazy, worthless, little frou-frou wench!

    I know what hard work is better than anyone else does. I started working at the age of fourteen.

    My first job was being a farm hand/ranch hand. Tell me something Zacks. When was the last time you got up at 3:00 in the morning, got dressed, ate a full breakfast, saddled up your horse and herded 3,000 head of milk cows out of the pasture, down to the milking house to be milked?

    Then, high tail it back to the high country and herd 5,000 head of beef cattle into the valley for fresh grazing and fresh water.

    As soon as we closed the gates, it was off to the fields to either plant thousands of acres with fresh vegetables, fresh fruits and fresh berries for both humans and animals in the spring then harvest all of the crops in the fall.

    When was the last time you dug up 200 acres of potatoes or picked acres of raspberries or straw-berries?

    When was the last time or the first time you ever made hay or straw?

    How many head of horses have you ever wrangled and broke for riding?

    When did you ever shovel shit out of stalls and corrals?

    How many horses have you groomed or shod, shirred sheep, groomed dogs or cats?

    How many animals have you trained for show or for racing?

    How many horses have you trained for the police department?

    How much snow have you ever shoveled by hand?

    Tell me Zacks, when did you ever get dirty?

    Do you even know what a dust cloth is or how to us one?

    My next job was working for a large construction conglomerate.

    I started out as a swamper and worked my way up to sky walker, then I worked myself up the ladder to head supervisor, then to junior partner. That’s the job that paid for my Masters Degree in Criminology and put me through the police academy. I’ve been a cop ever since.

    And I had to bust my ass harder than anyone else to make Detective Grade at a very young age. I really had to kick ass to get into Homicide. Making my way from meter maid to beat cop. Working my ass off and pushing my brain to the max to pass every test to make each and every new grade up to Detective.

    I’d love to see you walk an 8 inch beam eighty stories up inspecting every square inch to make sure it is safe enough to add the next story and make sure that the building will stand for the amount of time the client has assured the community it would stand for and be safe and strong for forever.

    Tell me Zacks, when did you ever come home from work so exhausted you collapsed in the middle of the floor right after you locked the door behind you and never moved until the alarm went off the next morning?

    Tell me Zacks, when did you ever see your hands, feet and knees covered in calluses, blisters, cuts and burses to the point that it was easier to count the places that weren’t injured?

    I’d really like to see you put in 140 hours of work a week. That comes out to 100 hours of ass busting, blood sweating, getting filthy dirty hours of over time each and every week on top of your regular 40 hours. You don’t have what it takes to hang with the real women of the twenty-first century. Why?

    Because that boney ass of yours has never, ever seen a days work of any kind! You don’t live in the world of reality you looser. You don’t know shit about the real world!

    Not only do I have to work harder than anyone else, I have to work a thousand times harder than anyone else to prove how damned good I am or how much better I am than all the rest. And why?!

    Because I am a woman! But, not just any other woman, no, I’m a full blooded Cherokee on top of everything else! Not to mention the shit I have to put up with because somehow the home boy club found out that I am a thirty-five year old diagnosed workaholic virgin who took a vow of celibacy at the age of six. What the home boys club didn’t plan on was finding out that this woman doesn’t just talk the talk, they all found out I know how to walk the walk with my head held high with honor and pride. But, my people are proud of me and that is all that matters to me.

    I was born with the deck stacked against me. So what? I’m the best damned criminologist in the United States. That’s why I am in such high demand. I am the most intelligent person and experienced person in my field. No one is better at my job than I am.

    You asked for it slut, so here it is! No one told you to become the town slut. No one told you to force Jake to marry you by getting yourself knocked up. No one told you to have four children you never wanted just because one died on you. Let’s face it Zacks, he’s better off dead than to have you for a mother. No one told you

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