Empty Cradle: A Gumshoe Mystery Novel

By Breanna Cone

Escaping from being one of Hartford PD’s finest to the world of private investigations Josie Palmer is starting to accept the senseless death of her partner, John Henderson, when tragedy strikes again. Jean-Claude, his son and Josie’s godchild, is kidnapped.

His widow, Camille, turns to her best friend, Josie, to help find the kidnappers before they can harm her only child. Knowing the first 24 hours are critical, the private eye, along with her partner and a few close friends, searches the crime scene for clues that will lead to the culprits.

Can Josie save the day or will Fate be a cruel master once again?

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 24, 2008
• ISBN: 9781440102004

Breanna Cone

Breanna Cone has been writing since 2001. Her Spencer City Series characters are portrayed as small town citizens who live life to the fullest and truly care about the rest of the townspeople.

Book preview

Empty Cradle

A Gumshoe Mystery Novel

from the author of

Murder at the Oasis

Breanna Cone

iUniverse, Inc.

New York Bloomington

Empty Cradle

A Gumshoe Mystery Novel

Copyright © 2008 by Breanna Cone

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.

iUniverse books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

iUniverse

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.iuniverse.com

1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

ISBN: 978-1-4401-0201-1(pbk)

ISBN: 978-1-4401-0200-4 (ebk)

iUniverse rev. date: 11/06/2008

Contents

Clue #1

Clue #2

Clue #3

Clue #4

Clue #5

Clue #6

Clue #7

Clue #8

Clue #9

Clue #10

Clue #11

Clue #12

Clue #13

Clue #14

Clue #15

Clue #16

Clue #17

Clue #18

Clue #19

Clue #20

Clue #21

Clue #22

Clue #23

Clue #24

Clue #25

Clue #26

Clue #27

Dedicated to the Man

My Husband, My Friend

Carl

SPECIAL THANKS TO

Carol Hodges

Editing Guru

Who always asks pertinent questions

and

Professor Iannacone

Technical Advisor

for State Governing Issues

Clue #1

Empty Cradle

5:00 P.M. Friday

SMOKE BILLOWED out the door marked Palmer & Palmer Investigations as the junior partner opened it. Waving her hand in front of her face to displace enough to see the man busy checking a stack of photographs, she coughed and left the door open for a few seconds. No matter how much she fussed at her partner, he ignored the obvious threat to his health from being surrounded by the noxious air. Sighing in resignation, Josie flipped on the switch for the ceiling fan. Slowly, the blades cleared the thick atmosphere of the office to a blue haze. Closing the door, she glared at the older man.

Didn’t the doctor tell you to give up those nasty things? the young woman asked.

Tony Palmer smiled and took another drag from the stogie.

Yeah. Caffeine, too. But I’m too old to change my habits, especially when I don’t see the need.

In that case, make sure you keep paying your life insurance premiums, old man. I don’t want to go bankrupt to pay for your hospice stay and subsequent funeral, she declared. I have better things to spend my money on.

From that smart-ass comment, nobody would suspect you are a loving daughter, Josephine.

I’m a loving daughter who would rather not get lung cancer from second-hand smoke, thank you very much.

Josie couldn’t help laughing at the startled expression on her father’s face at this blunt statement. Blowing him a kiss, she crossed to sit behind her desk. She paused to pull a film canister from her jacket pocket and placed it on top of the mountain of papers on the blotter before sitting down.

Is that the Cranford surveillance?

Yes. I’ll drop the film off at Photo Quick on my way home.

Is Brian still in Chicago on assignment?

Yes, Josie told him as she gave her father a curious look. He mentioned something about stopping by to see you last week before he left. What was that all about?

Tony grinned at the suspicious tone of his only child. Through the years, he’d been very vocal about the shortcomings of the men she usually dated, but Special Agent Brian Miller was different. The spirit of independence he had promoted when she was just a little girl had blossomed into a confident young woman. The boy must have a superior IQ because he had no trouble handling a high-spirited female like Josie. And it didn’t hurt that Brian was in a similar career as a Federal Agent. It also eased his mind to know she was in a relationship with someone respectful enough to speak to the father first before declaring his intentions.

He wanted my opinion about a case.

"The FBI needed to consult you about an investigation?"

Don’t sound so surprised. The veteran private eye gave her that parent look. Being old doesn’t mean I’m dumb or retarded. I still have lots of practical experience in tracking criminals to help a young whippersnapper like him.

Josie threw up her hands in mock apology. She loved ribbing her father. It kept him in line, for the most part.

Sorry, I didn’t mean to insult your intelligence.

After checking her e-mail messages, Josie turned off her computer and walked over to give her dad a kiss on the top of his bald head before leaving for her girls’ night out.

Tell Camille and Alice hello for me. Don’t forget that film.

Josie snagged the small container, waved goodbye and took the stairs down to the garage. Striding to the assigned space, she smoothed her hand over the shiny candy-apple red surface of the 1965 Ford Mustang and felt a bittersweet pleasure in the ownership of such a classic car. Just last month, her beloved Grandmother willed the prized vehicle to her only granddaughter. The normally stoic private eye was assailed with memories of her childhood when Sheila Palmer drove her to school functions while her son was on police stake-outs. There were still days when she had to remind herself that Gran wasn’t down the street to give her advice about dealing with life. Since Josie’s own mother had died before she started kindergarten, Sheila Palmer had been the only mother she could remember with any real memories.

The body shop did an outstanding job of restoring the vintage automobile to its original showroom luster. Her eyes gleamed with anticipation as she contemplated the effect of this vehicle on her G-man. A sparkle filled her eyes at the thought of Brian using his considerable charms to persuade her to drive the Mustang when they went on the road trip to Vegas they had planned for later this year. A big wave of emotion filled her heart at the absence of the special agent. The man had only been gone a week but she missed him something fierce. The queen sized bed they shared was way too big for just one person. Stop day-dreaming, Palmer. You only have forty-five minutes to drop off the film and change clothes then drive to the restaurant.

Camille Henderson stuffed the defendant’s thick folder into the top drawer of a file cabinet marked On-Going Court Cases and locked it before turning off the overhead light in her office. She was bone tired from battling the defense attorney’s constant badgering of the jury pool. The voir dire process had slowed to the pace of a tortoise. Everyone she approved, he automatically asked to be dismissed with prejudice because of some perceived flaw in their ability to sit in judgment of his client. She suspected Stuart Jennings was trying to delay bringing the case before a jury because she had Santiago dead to rights. The selection process was scheduled to resume on Monday morning, which meant the Assistant State Attorney could indulge in several glasses of liquid refreshment at dinner with Josie Palmer and Alice Watkins.

Ignoring all her flimsy excuses for staying home, her two best friends literally dragged her out to an all girl dinner six months ago. Camille was glad they hadn’t taken no for an answer when they insisted weekly dinners would let the childhood friends catch up on the busy lives each of them led. Some of Josie’s investigations kept her busy for days without any contact with the rest of the world. Alice had even less time since she was a travel guide and spent her days escorting tourists around the New England area.

Her own heavy case load as ASA required she work long hours, sometimes as much as twelve to sixteen hours a day. But the hectic schedule kept her too busy to remember she became a widow at the young age of twenty-seven. The Commendation for Heroism plaque hanging in the master bedroom was no substitute for a flesh and blood husband. All she had left were memories and their son. Little Jean-Claude was three years old and extremely precocious. Bringing his sweet face into her mind, she smiled at the mirror image of his father, Sgt. John Henderson. Shaking off the melancholy that threatened, Camille closed her office door, checked to make sure the lock caught, then walked to the elevators.

Alice Watkins sat stirring her second martini with an impaled green olive while she contemplated the events she had to supervise in the next ten days. The tour of the thirteen original states was a mammoth undertaking and she would have to be on the top of her game to make it a success. Only happy customers would make future historical tours possible. Also, return customers were vital to the expansion she planned. She was negotiating with a competitor to partner with them on the West Coast. A business strategy was swirling in her mind when the pretty woman with the bouncing strawberry blond curls slid onto the stool next to her and nodded her head at the bartender when he asked, The usual, Red? Alice grinned when her friend glared at the man’s choice of names. Josie was the only person who considered her shade of red-gold curls a handicap. Men found them irresistible.

I wish that smart-ass aging Romeo would get his eyes checked. Auburn highlights do not qualify my hair color as red.

You know Ray only calls you that to see you get riled up, Alice reminded her.

Speaking of irritating males, Tony says Hey.

I love your Dad. What you see, you get, Alice told her. He is the epitome of consistency.

It must be a male thing because Ray can’t get over his macho approach to women.

Not all women, just you. He’s always been a little sweet on you and he assumes you would be impressed.

I know, Josie replied, but he’s been a pain in the rear since junior high.

You should introduce him to the G-man. That might cool his jets.

Not a bad idea, girlfriend.

A seductive smile played on Josie’s lips at the thought of strolling into the restaurant with Brian’s arm around her waist. Then other more private memories made the blood warm in her veins.

Wipe that love-sick expression off your face, woman, Alice instructed with a glance at the archway door. Here comes Camille.

Josie’s first reaction at seeing her old friend was a flash of guilt. No matter how often she was assured differently, the PI got a bad case of déjà vu when she remembered the last time she saw her friend’s husband alive. She could still hear his last request as he lay dying in her arms surrounded by the filthy refuse of the alleyway between the warehouses on the pier.

Camille sighed when the bartender nudged a frozen Margarita toward her. Thanks, Ray. I definitely need this.

Two pair of concerned eyes swung to look at the up and coming attorney.

Bad day? Josie asked as she sipped a glass of sparkling Perrier with a slice of lime.

Just the usual hassle of keeping one step ahead of the scumbags and their lawyers, Camille answered as she sipped the citrus concoction. But a couple of these babies and Julio’s special dessert should help ease the mind of the work day cares.

Ah, yes. Alice raised her glass in a mock toast. Here’s to the power of alcohol and Raspberry Cheesecake.

The other two women laughed at the crazy antics of their friend, unaware how the joyful sound affected one of the men sitting at a nearby table.

Jackson Phillips, The Third’s lips stretched in an amused grin as he observed his colleague. At the office, his lovely assistant was all business. Camille was hell-bent on putting criminals behind bars with the maximum amount of prison time, preferably