Death at the Cloisters: A Matthew Hogan Mystery

By Randolph Mase

The bodies of two lovers are found early one morning hanging from the ceiling of a chapel at the Metropolitan Museum of Arts Cloisters. Shortly thereafter, private investigator Matthew Hogan joins forces with his long-time friend Tom Walker of NYPD in the investigation. With the help of his love interest, attorney Kathy Russell, Hogan searches for and discovers several clues near the scene of the murder. The evidence, and interviews with friends and neighbors of the victims, leads Hogan into the dark world of revenge. As he pursues each lead and gets closer to the truth, the real danger escalates, culminating in a climactic showdown in Greenwich Village. You wont want to miss this one!

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 10, 2014
• ISBN: 9781491749944

Randolph Mase

Randolph Mase was born in New York City and lived his earlier years in the metropolitan area, graduating from West Point up the Hudson River. In addition to being a voiceover artist, he writes fiction. Death at the Cloisters is his fourth Matthew Hogan mystery, following up on Death on Broadway, Death Beneath the Streets, and Death in Central Park. He is now busy completing two more novels: the fifth in the Matthew Hogan Mystery series, Death Inside Diamond Head, and a contemporary comedy, Unbearable. Mase has two grown children and two young grandchildren who live in the Washington, D.C. area, and he lives with his wife in Putnam County, New York. He has traveled extensively, having visited all 50 of the United States and more than 20 other countries. Visit his website at www.randolphmase.com.

Book preview

DEATH AT

THE CLOISTERS

A Matthew Hogan Mystery

RANDOLPH MASE

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DEATH AT THE CLOISTERS

A MATTHEW HOGAN MYSTERY

Copyright © 2014 Randolph Mase.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4917-4993-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-4994-4 (e)

iUniverse rev. date: 10/21/2014

Contents

Chapter One Dinner

Chapter Two The Cloisters

Chapter Three The Man

Chapter Four The Woman

Chapter Five New Leaf Café

Chapter Six More Suspects

Chapter Seven The Angry Lion

Chapter Eight The Plan

Chapter Nine The Catch

‘To my family, especially my wife Kathy, for their support and encouragement, particularly during the past couple of years. I love you all.

CHAPTER ONE

DINNER

W hat do you think? the woman asked him, turning around slowly.

It looks good, he replied.

Does it make me look fat?

Nothing could make you look fat. Nothing at all.

She walked slowly toward him, then put her arms around his waist. Perfect answer. How come you always say the right thing?

Just lucky, I guess, he responded, kissing her lightly on the lips. But I meant it. She moved even closer to him, kissing him back, her hands starting to move slowly down his back. He pulled away from her. Uh, let’s not forget where we are, Lisa.

She looked around, her lips pouting, then back at him. A smile replaced the pout. Nobody’s looking.

Not right now they’re not, he chuckled. But, if we do anything more, they will be. And we came here to buy a dress for you, not to get arrested.

Okay, okay. You’re right. Let me change, then we can get out of here to someplace more private.

Ten minutes later, Christian Morton and his close friend Lisa Barronson left the department store on 34th Street in New York City. The cold January air thrust itself into their faces, capturing their breaths for several moments. The air was so cold it created almost a burning feeling in the windpipe when you took a breath. Both of them pulled their collars up to their ears as they turned to walk along the sidewalk. The only respite was that the cold wind was now behind their backs. Too cold to even talk, Christian held his collar with his right hand and put his left arm around Lisa.

Fifteen minutes later, they rushed into the welcome warmth of Grand Central Station. "It is so cold!" Lisa complained, still trying to catch her breath. They moved quickly down the steps and away from the doors, huddling together for several minutes in a corner.

Finally, they could speak without their voices shaking. I heard that it’s about minus ten with the wind chill factor, he said.

It feels colder than that, Lisa replied. Why did we come out on a cold day like today, anyway?

To find you a dress…and to be with each other, of course. And don’t forget that we’re going out again tonight, remember? Dinner?

She nodded. Okay. But at least we’ll be inside. And maybe we can find a nice warm taxi to take us there.

Well, I did hear that it’s supposed to be less windy tonight, Chris answered. That should help a little. As they started down the marble steps toward the subway, he looked at his watch. 5:30. And speaking of which, we don’t have that much time. I made the reservation for 7:00.

We should be okay. It won’t take me that long to change. As long as we don’t have to wait too long to get on a train. This time of day is sometimes brutal.

An hour later, they had taken the shuttle to Times Square and the Number 1 train to her apartment on the Upper West Side, and Chris waited patiently as Lisa donned her new dress. He made his waiting time seem even longer by looking at his watch every minute or so. His latest glance showed him 6:45. He stood, hands fidgeting in his pockets, and walked slowly toward the bedroom door. As he was about to encourage her to finish quickly, she appeared in the doorway. Okay. I’m ready. How do I look? she asked, turning slowly to reveal all sides of her new dress.

I change what I said in the store, he answered. It doesn’t look good. She frowned, and looked like she would hit him. It looks better than good. It’s you.

There you go again, Lisa said, kissing him quickly as she moved toward the closet by the front door. We’d better go.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, they were comfortably seated near the warm fireplace of a steakhouse on 57th Street. The heat from the fire, as well as from the wine in their glasses, made them forget about the bitter cold surrounding the building. So they concentrated on each other, and on their dinner selections.

What are you going to order? she asked him.

You know better than to ask, Lisa. Chris smiled at her. I’ve narrowed it down to three or four choices. I’ll decide when the waitress comes back. She pouted at him. Okay, I’ll give you a hint. Her face brightened. It’s a steak, he chuckled, then winced when he felt her shoe tap against his shin under the table.

Fine. Be that way. I won’t tell you what I’m having, either.

I’ll find out.

Their banter was interrupted by the return of their waitress. Are you ready to order?

And they were. She asked for a T-Bone, well-done, and he asked for a Filet Mignon, medium. After the waitress took their menus and left, Lisa said to Chris, You knew you were going to order that all along, didn’t you?

Actually, it was my second choice. The T-Bone was my first. But I couldn’t order the same thing as you.

Why not?

I don’t know. It’s just not right.

Sometimes you’re weird, you know that?

He shrugged his shoulders. I guess. But that’s what makes me special, right? He lifted his wine glass to her, and she laughed.

* * *

An hour later, they relaxed at the table, sipping their coffees. Suddenly, Lisa leaned toward him, a worried look on her face, and whispered, Chris, there’s a guy over at the bar that’s been staring at me for the last half hour.

He looked in the direction of the bar, but didn’t see anyone. I don’t see anybody. Who is he?

He looks familiar, but I can’t place him. Look, there he is again.

Chris looked again toward the bar. The guy with the brown hair? In the blue shirt? Lisa nodded, looking away from the man. I’ll be right back, Chris said, pushing his chair back and standing.

What are you going to do?

Relax. I’m just going to talk to him for a second.

Lisa watched him as he walked to the man, then as they talked. When Chris and the other man turned to look