Murder in the Bowling Alley

By Robert M. Beatty

A rape, murders, a bank robbery, imprisonment, and suicideall these things that happened twenty years ago begin to converge and set a small North Carolina town on its ear. A dead body discovered in the Piedmont Bowling Alley is identified as a wanted fugitive, and Helen Martin, chief of detectives, realizes this will be no ordinary case. The owner of the bowling alley and his daughter receive threatening letters referring to the events of twenty years earlier, and the ensuing chaos sets Martin on the path to filling in the gaps in a story that spanned twenty years. She knows it will take the best joint effort of her little police force and the FBI to bring the perp to justice. As the investigation progresses, she knows she will have to use a unique, inventive procedure and get everyone to agree and play nicely. But will it work?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 4, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543411904

Robert M. Beatty

The author grew up on a small farm in Indiana before joining the Service and serving as a top turret gunner on an air crew aboard a B-24 Liberator in the South Pacific during World War II. After the war he married a girl from Eastern North Carolina and served as a Special Agent of the FBI for 27 years. He has been married 68 years to his wonderful wife, Cleo, who bore him three sons. He now boasts proudly of five grand- children and three great grand children. The author and his wife now make their home in Wilmington, North Carolina.

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Copyright © 2017 by Robert M. Beatty.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2017904819

ISBN:      Hardcover          978-1-5434-1192-8

                Softcover            978-1-5434-1191-1

                eBook                 978-1-5434-1190-4

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.

Murder in the Bowling Alley is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locals, and incidents are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, events, or businesses is entirely coincidental.

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.

Rev. date: 03/28/2017

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CONTENTS

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

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

EPILOGUE

A special thank you to my son, Randy Beatty, and my wife, Cleo, for her assistance. Also, special thanks to Scott Cox, my computer consultant, and to the staff at Xlibris, without whose help this book would never have been printed.

CHAPTER ONE

T wenty-six years ago, the Stay Healthy and Have Fun club decided to organize a bowling league. Since there were sixteen members who wanted to bowl, four teams were set up consisting of four members each. They met at one o’clock each Wednesday afternoon at Piedmont Bowling. The original rules under which the bowlers participated have remained the same from the first day that the first ball was rolled down the lane. The league has, however, grown from the original four teams to fourteen teams of four members each.

Although the bowlers in the Seniors’ Bowling League enjoyed winning, they enjoyed socializing just as much, or maybe even more. They socialized before the bowling game started, continued throughout the competition, and continued still for several minutes after the competition was over. A number of members got together during the week to attend various functions.

In the time that the league has been in existence, there has never been a dispute of any kind until three weeks earlier, when a man who gave his name as Ben Zinch walked into Piedmont Bowling and said he would like to bowl. Since the second place team, who called themselves the Owls, had just lost a member due to an accident, he was invited to bowl with them.

About halfway through the second game, Zinch left the five pin standing after rolling his first ball. As soon as his ball was returned, he took aim and rolled his second ball toward the standing pin. It missed. As soon as the ball passed the pin without hitting it, he let loose with a string of obscenities. Before he could sit down, Jesse Moore, the owner-manager, was in his face.

I don’t know where you’re used to bowling, Jesse said, looking Zinch straight in his eyes, but that kind of language is not permitted here. This is a family-oriented business, and even if it wasn’t, your fellow bowlers do not want to hear it. Is that clear?

At first Zinch only glared at Jesse and said nothing. Then when Jesse did not say anything either but kept staring at him, Zinch said in a belligerent tone, Yeah, I heard you.

Then I expect you to follow our rules. If you do, we’ll forget about this.

Zinch mumbled, OK, and Jesse walked away.

The next bowling date was on the first Wednesday of the month. On this day, certain members of the league brought in cakes to celebrate the birthdays of each bowler whose birthday was in that month. The members referred to it as Cake Day.

When Zinch came in, he sat at the edge of the group without saying a word. When he was offered a piece of cake, he gave a quick retort. I don’t eat stuff like that. The person offering the cake turned and walked away, and Zinch continued to sit alone until the bowling game started.

The next week, the Owls, who were still in second place, bowled the Hawks, the first-place team for position. The Hawks won the first game, and the Owls won the second game. The third game was down to the wire. The Owls had finished bowling, but Carl Simmons, the anchor for the Hawks, had not yet bowled. The scores were so close that if Simmons made either a strike or a spare and then hit at least two pins, the Hawks would win.

Simmons stepped up to the line, stood there a few seconds, and then rolled the ball. It looked like a perfect hit, but when the pins were through flopping around, the ten pin was left standing. As soon as his ball was returned, he picked it up and took his place on the line. He aimed carefully and rolled the ball. At first the pin just wobbled, and then it fell.

Zinch immediately jumped up, claiming the ball had gone into the gutter but came out before it hit the ten pin, so he didn’t make a spare. Members of both teams looked at Zinch like they could not believe what he just said. One of his own team members said, Ben, that ball didn’t go near the gutter, as Simmons picked up his ball and prepared to roll it again.

Zinch immediately jumped to his feet, his face flushed and his fists clenched. He got in front of Simmons so he could not roll the ball and started spewing obscenities in his face.

Before Zinch finished, Jesse Moore jumped between them. He yelled two words, Get out!

"You son of a bitch, this is a public place. You can’t throw me out!" Zinch yelled back.

I can and I just did, Jesse replied in a more quiet tone, forcing himself to regain his composure. Now get your ball and get out of here before I call the cops and have you arrested for trespassing.

Then I’ll give them something to arrest me for! Zinch shouted as he started to take swing at him.

Before the punch landed, his arm was grabbed by Tim Harper, a six-foot-three, two hundred and ten-pound bowler who had been standing by, watching the confrontation. He very quietly said, I believe you were told to leave.

Zinch spun around, ready to fight whoever it was who had grabbed his arm. When he saw Tim Harper, even as mad and out of control as he was, he decided that would not be a good idea. Instead, he turned and walked over to the ball return rack, grabbed his ball, put into the bag, and walked out the door.

As soon as Zinch was out the door, Jesse turned to Carl Simmons and said, I believe you can bowl now.

Simmons, who knew everybody in the building was watching him, took his place at the line. He knew he had to hit two or more pins to win, but the pressure got to him. He rolled the ball and hit only one pin, ending the game in a tie.

CHAPTER TWO

B en Zinch was irate. He swore to himself that he would get even with the man who had thrown him out of the bowling alley, overlooking the fact he had caused his own removal. He was so mad he did not even notice it was softly raining.

When Zinch got to his car, he opened the trunk and slammed the bag containing his bowling ball and shoes into the trunk so hard that they bounced off the back of the trunk. Then he opened the car door and jumped into the driver’s seat.

As soon as he was seated, Zinch put the key into the ignition, but before he could start the engine, there was a knock on the window beside him. He looked through the glass. A man wearing a raincoat and a rain hat he had never seen before was standing there, signaling him to roll down the window. Without thinking, he rolled it down to see what the man wanted. He had not seen the man follow him out of the building alley and had not seen him approach the car. Without introducing himself, the man said, I saw what happened in there, and that guy had no business throwing you out. It’s a damn shame when a man can’t express himself without being told to leave the building.

Yeah, but what the hell do you care? Who are you anyway?

Just call me Sam. I thought you might be interested in getting even with him. If you let me in the car, we can talk about it.

Without waiting for an answer, Sam walked to the other side of the car. As soon as he was beside the door, Zinch unlocked it, and he slipped in beside him.

Zinch took a long look at the man who had just entered his car. He had never seen him before and wondered why he had let him. I don’t know you, and I don’t know what the hell you want. What are you talking about, getting a chance to get even? Why is this any business of yours to start with? So either start talking or get out.

Let’s just say that I have a reason for wanting to get even with that bastard in there. I’m familiar with this building, and I can disable that poor excuse they have for an alarm. I know where they keep their money, and I can get into the safe to get it.

By now, Zinch had calmed down a little and was beginning to realize what this man was telling him. Why are you telling all of this to me? If you can do everything you claim you can do, why do you need me? How do you know I won’t go to the police?

What are you going to tell them? That some guy you don’t know is going to do something to the guy that manages the bowling alley? I don’t think so, Sam answered. But to answer your questions, it’s because I saw what happened to you, and I thought you might like to get even and maybe pick up a little money while you’re doing it. I don’t give a damn about the money. You can have it all. I just want to make as much trouble for that bastard as I can, and I thought you might want to help me do it. Revenge makes a body feel good.

Zinch started to think. Maybe he could team up with this guy and then leave town as soon as the job was done. Nobody knew him there. He really wanted to put that guy in his place.

I don’t know about this. I want to get even with that bastard, but this sounds pretty risky. It seems to me like we stand a good chance of getting caught.

Sam answered, Well, to start with, we won’t get caught. We will go in through a hole in the back wall. Then I’ll disable the alarm. We’ll get the job done and then leave through the same hole.

Zinch did not understand what Sam was talking about. "What do you mean, ‘a hole in the wall’? You talking about a