Code: Snapdragon

By Darlien C Breeze

While investigating the murder of a man, found staked to a tree with a poisoned dart through his open mouth, Detective Roman Crain is pulled into an international search for the missing pages to a formula for a medical breakthrough. The clues lead him from Las
Vegas, Nevada to Peru, Amsterdam, and beyond. Can he find the culprit trying to sell the missing pages to this life-saving formula? Will he be able to protect the people around him, and save the woman he loves from imminent danger?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ink & Quill Publishers
• Release date: Feb 19, 2022
• ISBN: 9781948266789

Darlien C Breeze

A native Californian now living in Las Vegas, Darlien C. Breeze grew up on a copper and gold mine located several miles into the hills from the Colorado River. Her unique upbringing was followed by occupations as schoolteacher, real estate agent, beauty salon and an Import/Export owner. Her latest book published by Ink and Quill, A Twist in Crime,

Book preview

The body leaned against the tree, held in place by a shaft protruding from his mouth. Police wound crime scene tape around the area. Detective Roman Crane looked past the tape at the petite woman whose fringe of black hair set off her deep-blue eyes. Ms. Marten, when did you discover your neighbor’s body?

She looked at the big detective, her eyes filled with tears. Just before my neighbors called you, about seven, maybe a moment after.

What brought you out this early?

I was on my way to the post office. I’m a freelance writer. I needed to mail a contract this morning, but my car wouldn’t start. When I looked around, I saw Larry leaning against the tree, smoking. I called to him for help. He didn’t respond so I got out and walked toward him. That’s when I realized he wasn’t smoking. There was an arrow sticking out of his mouth! It took a moment for the reality of what I saw to come together. I started screaming.

What’s your neighbor’s full name? Roman clicked his pen several times before writing in the notebook he carried.

Larry Singleton. She took a breath. Probably Lawrence.

What does he do? I mean, for a living.

I’m not sure. I never asked. He said something about being retired. Some kind of government pension, I think.

Ms. Marten, does he live here alone? Is there a wife, kids, anyone else? Is there someone we can contact?

She thought for a moment, "I think he has a brother somewhere. Doug, Don, something with a D—I’m not sure. Larry and I spoke, but we weren’t friends by any means."

Did Mr. Singleton get along with everyone here? Did he have problems with anyone?

He... I’m not sure how to put this. He tended to be very provocative, always turning something into a sexual innuendo. It made the women in the complex uncomfortable. Wanted us to call him Big L. Every morning he came out to smoke in his ratty, old robe, open to show off his bright-red silk boxer shorts. Just like you see him there. She raised her chin to indicate the body impaled on the tree. Usually the only time we talked was when one of us wanted to borrow a book from the other. We did have much the same taste in mystery novels.

"So you were friends?" he said.

We were friendly, not friends, she said, staring back at him.

Did you hear anything or see anyone that looked out of place? The detective persisted. Anything at all unusual?

No. Nothing. Can I go now? I-I-I need to make some calls.

Yes. I’ll contact you later if there are any more questions. He handed her his card. Call me if you think of anything else.

Roman noticed her shaking hands. He signaled for a female officer to assist. The policewoman walked with her to her town house.

Roman watched the crime scene investigators comb through Larry Singleton’s condo, searching for clues that might lead them to his killer. They emptied drawers, checked pockets, and dumped the contents of wastebaskets. Datebooks, a cell phone, and an answering machine were bagged for experts to examine—destined eventually for the evidence storage room. Metal shelving filled with hundreds of books lined Singleton’s living room walls. He looked through the reading material. It ranged from history to science to the latest thrillers.

Heavy on the science. I wonder what he used to do? Roman mused aloud.

The medical examiner signaled that he had the victim’s body ready to transport to the morgue. Hell of a shot. Through the mouth with an arrow, said Doc Summers. Wonder if it was planned or just a lucky shot?

May never know the answer to that one, Roman said, walking outside and heading over to Billie Marten’s house. He rang the doorbell and waited.

Billie crashed on the bed and called her editor who waited for her paperwork. Now, how to explain the morning’s events. Afterward, she lay back and tried to make sense of the day. Nothing. Nothing made sense. Who would want Larry dead? And why? He was creepy, but this...such a horrible death. The shudder that enveloped her stopped at the knock on her front door.

Hi, Miss Marten, Roman said when Billie opened the door. I’m just checking to see how you’re doing. You’ve had quite a shock. Do you have somewhere else you can stay? It might be a good idea.

Thanks, Detective... She furrowed her brow. ...Crane, isn’t it? I’m all right, just a bit dazed. Not every day... She waved her hand. You know.

Yes, Crane said, and thank God for that. Call if you remember anything else. He handed her another business card.

After shutting the door and alone once more, Billie sat then stood again and paced. In need of a friend, she called her friend Sofia and babbled on about what had happened.

Had I not been so consumed with my own damn car problem, I might have noticed something wrong, very wrong, sooner. I should have seen the way-too-long cigarette protruding from Larry’s mouth, and oh-my-God, an arrow, as in bow and arrow, nailing him to the tree. It wasn’t until I got up close that I saw his glassy eyes staring straight ahead, with his mouth gaping open in a nightmarish silent scream. There were rivulets of blood running from his mouth creating a murderous, clownish frown. A yellow curl of smoke circled his arm from his hand, where his Camel, no-filter, still smoldered.

Billie stopped and gulped air before going on. It took a moment for it to register. I screamed. A scream that started at my toes, came up my legs, swirled around inside, forced its way through my chest, and erupted like a geyser from my mouth. You know, like oil released after eons under pressure. She took a deep breath. That’s when my neighbors poured out of their homes, asking, What is it Billie, Billie, what is it? What’s the matter? She shuddered again. I was so numb, I could only point. One by one, my friends looked. One by one, they recoiled in horror. Then someone called the police. She took a deep, shuddering breath. Sorry to go all drama queen on you. I know I’m jabbering. I can’t seem to help myself. It’s just so mind-boggling."

Girlfriend! Sofia said. Girlfriend, calm down. After the day you’ve had, you deserve to let go. I’ve worked in the ER for twenty years. You can’t imagine the tragedies that have passed before me, but this is so horrible, I can’t believe it. Look, pour yourself a glass of wine. I’m coming over.

Oh Sofia, you don’t need to do that. I’ll be okay. Billie curled her small frame onto the overstuffed chair in her living room.

Don’t say another word. Juan can watch the kids for a while. I’m on my way.

When her friend arrived, they sat in the living room, each nursing a glass of Chablis. Sofia patted Billie’s arm.

Well, I’ve had some bad days, but this tops any of them. What did the cops have to say? She took another sip of wine.

Not much. The lead cop, Roman Crane, just gave me his card—said to call if I thought of anything else. Billie shivered under the throw wrapped around her.

Sofia’s olive eyes widened. "Oh-my-god, it just hit me. We’re talking about the Larry, Mr. Big L You know... She laughed. ...I’m not supposed to talk about patients, and I never do, only...well, he’s dead, and I’ve waited a long time to share this with you. She tucked her long black hair behind her ear and lowered her voice. A couple of years back Larry was a surgical patient. He was a weenie waver."

Billie chuckled. You mean...

Yeah, for real, no kidding. He kept telling really raunchy jokes and insisting nurses call him Big L. Yuck. Yuck. Yuck. It was so creepy. He kept asking the nurses what they thought Big L stood for. One of the nurses, a young, first-year resident, complained he had been, well, you get it, wavin’ the weenie, making jokes about morning wood and all that. She grabbed her throat and pretended to retch.

Billie laughed at the gesture.

Sooo, Sofia said, continuing the story, "I decided to give Big L something to think about. Ya gotta picture this. It’s bath time for Big L, so I came into his room asking, ‘How are we this beautiful morning?’ Using that singsong voice reserved for toddlers and dementia patients—you know the universal ‘we.’ Anyway, I came in with my supplies—lots of cold water, just in case—and Larry didn’t disappoint. He threw back the sheet with a flourish, just like a game show host, and out pops Big L. I started snickering and said, ‘Are you sure you want to stay with that moniker? I’ve seen bigger pee-pees in the pediatric ward.’"

Billie doubled over, giggling. You didn’t really call it a pee-pee, did you? I have to ask, is that the latest medical terminology?

The point is, chica, Big L never made another appearance. Sofia looked at her watch. Damn, I’m going to be late for my shift. I have to go now. You need me, you call.

Billie sighed. Sofia was a good friend. Talk about what a difference a day could make. Larry was creepy. Larry was a pervert. Larry really thought highly of himself, but did he deserve this end?

Given the events of the day, no way could she sleep. She punched her pillow to make it more comfortable. She threw back the top cover then grabbed it and pulled it back. Usually, thinking happy thoughts could put her out fast enough, but today hardly qualified as usual.

Billie turned on her side. There, on the nightstand, lay the last book Larry had loaned her. It was the new Tom Clancy, Dead or Alive. Not really her thing but Larry had insisted she take it. ‘You don’t have to read it right now. Wait until you’re out of books and then give it a shot. After you read it, let Big L,’ he’d said, pointing to his chest, ‘know what you think.’

Looking back, she remembered he seemed anxious for her to keep the book. He even placed it on the shelf squeezed in between a Mary Higgins Clark and a David Baldacci. She agreed to take the book more to get rid of him than anything else. Later, she brought it into the bedroom with the intention of reading it.

That was a few nights ago, and still it sat unopened. It’s too damn big, nearly a thousand pages. I wish authors would either write smaller books or make them into two volumes. I’ll get a hernia just carrying this thing around.

Billie tossed, turned, and finally gave up. There’s no way I’m going to get any rest seeing Larry’s impaled body every time I close my eyes. I’ll give it the hot-cocoa-and-read-until-I-drift-off treatment.

Returning from the kitchen with her mug of hot chocolate, she propped the pillow behind her, sipped her drink, and opened the book. It was good—more interesting than she had expected and she read to page forty-three. The second surprise of the day came as she turned to page forty-four. Instead of more of the story, she found a page of weird gibberish that began:

TENE TFRNE FLRSE

(78 SDQ, 75 Jcbe)

Letters were placed like words, none of them spelling anything. Billie read and reread the passage, trying to make sense of it. The sheet replaced the original leaf—some kind of code. The thin, yellow parchment filled the page. She closed the book, turned it over, and opened it again. No way could you see this from the outside.

Great! Now I’ll never get to sleep. Larry, what on earth were you up to? Why did you leave this book with me? A shudder that wore cleated boots marched down her spine, vertebra by vertebra. Billie pulled the covers tight.

In the morning, she yanked on jeans and an old sweater. I’m not sure why but I feel I need to keep this safe, just in case. Billie copied the page, opened her file cabinet, and inserted it into a feature article she was researching labeled Fashions of the 1800s.

Detective Crane’s card lay on the counter. She called his number. When he answered she said, I’ve found something interesting that I think you should see. Larry was always acting like he knew a big secret...looks like, maybe, he did.

What is it? Can you tell me over the phone?

Billie noticed the deep timbre of his voice and slight Southern drawl. I could, but you’ll have to see it to appreciate how strange it is. Actually, I think it’s some kind of code. It’s in a book Larry left with me. If you want, I’ll drop it off to you. I don’t really have to go anywhere today. I’m just doing research from home. But I think you should look at it privately first.

No need to come here. I can be at your place in a half an hour. Will that be okay?

Perfect. I’ll put on some coffee. See you then.

Crane put aside the case he was working. He called across the hall to his partner. Irv, I’m going to Billie Marten’s. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.

Do you want me to go with?

No. No need for both of us to go.

Irv raised one eyebrow and smiled. You know, you look entirely too pleased about going.

Roman gave him a one-finger salute and kept walking.

The huge, bald man glowered at the smaller, rabbity-looking guy wearing torn cutoffs and a ’60s tie-dye t-shirt. Tell me, he said, his voice thundering through the room, were you born stupid, or have you studied for it?

Huh?

Never mind. He sighed. Tell me exactly what happened.

Rabbit looked left then right. I checked out where he lived and…and I was going to search the place, but...but he never left. He just stayed there all the time. You know, like, maybe he knew I was there, and he was on guard...or somethin’. Rabbit tucked his crippled hand into his pocket and hung his head.

Fenton, Fen, ground his teeth together. Wabbit, he said, knowing how much Rabbit hated that odious name. Wabbit, did it ever occur to you that he might not have it hidden at home? Maybe it’s in a bank vault or buried under a rock somewhere.

Yeah, yeah, that’s what I thought. Rabbit wiped his sweaty hand on his pant leg. So, I thought if I killed him, I could search the place and find the name of the bank or the map to where he hid it. He went out to smoke, and I nailed him, right through the mouth. Rabbit bounced up and down with glee. You should have seen it. I couldn’t believe it, right through the mouth!

Fen closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. So, in your wisdom, he said just above a whisper, you killed the only person in the world who knows where the formula is hidden. And you kill him with an arrow linking his death to the exact area in the world where the information originated. And you didn’t even search his place.

Rabbit shuffled his feet. Not an arrow, a dart, and...and...and I didn’t have time to search. There was this neighbor lady who started screaming, and people came from all over and...and... He looked up into Fen’s red face and bulging eyes.

Fen lowered his voice even more. The only reason I don’t kill you right here and now is I don’t want it said that I kill retarded people. Now, get out of my sight before I cease to care.

Rabbit backed up until he hit the door. He turned and ran to his car, tires squealing in his hurry to escape.

Now what? Fen paced the floor. Without that page, the formula is useless. He picked up a large glass ashtray and hurled it against the wall, shattering it into thousands of glittery pieces.

Roman sat at Billie’s table, drinking coffee and munching on hot muffins. Hey, these are better than Dunkin’ Donuts. Thanks.

Help yourself. I made them fresh just before you got here. Billie shrugged. Actually, they’re from a mix, but they’re not bad. She slid the plate toward him. What do you think about the stuff written on that page?

I’ve taken a few courses in cryptography and believe me, this is way beyond my skill level.

Do you think Larry was killed because of it?

A little early to tell. There can be several reasons why people get killed. However, the code does seem the most probable just now. He gazed at her. Other than dark circles under her startling blue eyes, he noticed Billie Marten was a very attractive woman. When he realized she stared back, he covered by saying, Please keep this to yourself for now. The fewer people who know, the better. The last thing we want is for the media to get wind of this. Trying to investigate a crime with reporters crawling all over the place is like walking through a minefield.

If the details of this are leaked, Billie said, you’re going to have a lot of questions thrown at you. Wouldn’t it be better to make a statement, not giving all the facts, and asking reporters to keep a lid on things for the time being?

Problem is there are always a few unscrupulous types who will sell a story, no matter how it impacts our investigation. Roman bit his lip and looked at her hoping she understood.

Billie brushed a few crumbs from the table. Sorry to say, I have to agree. I’m a professional writer, and I know the type. Trust me, though, I won’t say a word.

Roman smiled at the note of sincerity in her voice. I’ll get this to the FBI and see if we can find out just what Mr. Singleton was hiding. Thanks for the coffee and rolls. I didn’t get a chance to eat breakfast. He stood and turned to leave.

Not rolls, Detective, muffins, banana muffins, fresh from the box. She laughed. Just so you know.

Yeah, banana muffins. I got it, okay. He smiled, noting how her haircut and her small frame made her look like a pixie.

I’d appreciate it if you’d let me know what you find out. I feel like I’m part of this in some way.

He smiled. Glad for an excuse. I’ll call when I know more.

Billie watched Roman get into his unmarked car. Hmm, not bad. Not bad at all, big, broad shoulders, strong arms and hands. He could pass for a UPS delivery guy or a really big Boy Scout. She raised her eyebrows. Down, girl. Down, I say.

Fen paced the room waiting for Dr. Bauer’s call. He grabbed the phone on the first ring. Yes, doctor, I do understand. Yes. Yes. Immediately, yes. I... The phone went dead before he could explain. Damn it, damn that stupid Rabbit. Once