Boston Giant

By Geoffrey A. Feller

Natalie Dvorak #18:

A sleazy motel in rural Vermont becomes the focal point for a series of crimes including a robbery-homicide that brings Detective-Sergeant Natalie Dvorak onto the scene. The killing seems unusually brutal and physical evidence indicates the murderer was a giant of a man. Meanwhile a motel guest becomes another victim but survives the encounter. Whether to involve the police when the chance to recover stolen property becomes the question the crime victim must decide. Back in her small town home, Natalie’s husband gets involved when a stalker apparently returns to threaten his friend and colleague in local government. What can he do as the only police officer in town when the intruder might turn violent? Another robbery goes beyond the motel crime in a scale of violence that shocks the community. The killer’s connection to organized crime in Boston comes to light, raising the stakes further as a gang boss reaches across the state line to seek revenge. Can Natalie and her husband defend their state and town’s citizens against psychopathic outsiders?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Geoffrey A. Feller
• Release date: May 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005440138

Geoffrey A. Feller

I was born fifty-seven years ago in the Bible belt but grew up in a Massachusetts college town. I am married and my wife and I have moved frequently since we met. We've lived in Minnesota, Massachusetts, and New Mexico, as well as a brief residency in Berlin, Germany. I have worked peripherally in health care, banking, and insurance. In addition to writing, I have done a bit of amateur acting and comedy performances. I am afraid of heights but public speaking doesn't scare me. My wife and I live in Albuquerque with our chihuahua.

Book preview

BOSTON

GIANT

by Geoffrey A. Feller

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2022 by Geoffrey A. Feller

CHAPTER ONE:

…AND A NEW YORK LAWYER

Steven Roos was having a cigarette in the parking lot of the Royal Rest Motel. He was the night desk clerk; it was a little after two in the morning and the July air was pleasantly warm. Roos had been covering the desk for three months now; he’d quit drinking right after his last birthday and hoped to see the rest of his thirties sober.

Drinking had caused a lot of problems in his life, both personally and professionally. If you could even apply the word professional given that Roos had never held a job that required certification in anything. Just a string of low-wage service jobs like this one. But Roos hoped to hang in long enough to stabilize his life, maybe even see if Andrea would take him back.

At least the rain had stopped and the clouds were breaking up. Roos could see some constellations up in the heavens. That made him happy.

The moment Roos dropped his cigarette on the gravel and squashed it, a car on the road slowed down and signaled a turn into the lot. It was a late model Ford Taurus.

Not bothering to stay and watch the car pull up to the space in front of the office, Roos went back inside. 2:00am check-ins were usually cash customers. Thank God it was a decent car; it was more likely to be a john with his hooker than another crummy junkie.

Royal Rest was that kind of place.

Roos was standing behind the desk counter when the door swung open. An extremely tall and broad man with dark hair and a lantern jaw filled the doorway. He was wearing a denim work shirt and black jeans.

Got any vacancies? the man asked; his voice was deep.

Sure do. You by yourself?

By myself. Why?

No reason. Same rate anyways.

So why mention it?

The big man’s attitude was intimidating. Roos wanted to give him a key and be left alone.

Okay, I’m a jerk. Cash or credit, mister?

Cash.

Sure, Roos thought.

One thing, though.

Yes, sir?

You got a safe?

A safe? You mean in the rooms? We don’t have those here.

What if I want you to lock something up for me here in the office? Is there a safe?

Well, yeah. But it’s small.

Where is it?

Right under the counter here, Roos said, glancing down towards the safe. But I don’t have the combination.

The big man pulled an automatic pistol from the waistband at the back of his jeans. He fired a single shot through Roos’s neck as the clerk was pulling the guest register from the shelf above the safe.

Several hours later, Natalie Dvorak got out of the unmarked cruiser and beckoned over to the young trooper standing outside the motel.

Good morning, Sergeant.

Gould, Natalie said, looking up at him, have you questioned everyone staying here?

Yes, Sergeant.

Let me guess. No one saw or heard anything.

Gould shrugged.

The usual dopers and petty criminals?

Got a New York lawyer down at the end.

Natalie raised her eyebrows.

New York lawyer, huh?

Said it was a booking mistake, getting a room here.

Must’ve been. Is he steamed over it?

It’s a she, Sergeant. And, yeah, she’s a little worked up.

I’ll have a word with her. She’s probably going to be interesting.

Natalie went directly to the last room and knocked on the door. She wiped the back of her neck with a handkerchief; it was a humid morning.

Hello? a woman’s voice called through the door. Are you with the police?

Yes, ma’am. May I come in?

The door swung open and Natalie saw an extraordinarily petite woman. The lady was wearing high heeled pumps and still stood shorter than the 5’1" Natalie. The New York lawyer had a dark complexion with frosted-highlight hair framing a cherubic face; she was wearing a cream-white silk blouse and black slacks. Natalie assumed she and the lawyer were about the same age, somewhere in their mid-forties.

Good morning, she said as all those impressions flashed into her mind. Sergeant Natalie Dvorak, Vermont State Police.

A sergeant, huh? the lawyer reacted; brown eyes behind a pair of big-lensed glasses scrutinized Natalie. What’s so important that you’re on the scene?

I’ll explain. Your name?

The cop outside didn’t say? she asked, stepping aside to let Natalie walk into the room. Rita Algodon.

Thank you, Natalie said, glancing around the drab little room. I’m told you’re up from New York.

Manhattan law firm. Jessup, Warren, and Algodon.

And you’re a partner.

Full partner, Rita said, sitting on the mattress. I’m not with that firm out of nepotism.

Put your name second and it could be JAW Law.

Rita burst out laughing.

Well, I like to talk, she said, crossing her legs. Go on ahead and sit, Sergeant.

Natalie took a chair from a writing table with cigarette burns all over it and turned it around to face Rita.

Miss Algodon, Natalie began, pausing for correction that didn’t come, I know you’ve been asked already and you did tell Trooper Gould that you saw and heard nothing from last night, around two or three in the morning.

That was probably during the few hours I was finally exhausted enough to sleep.

Did Trooper Gould explain why he was asking?

Nothing more specific than that there had been a crime at the office. That’s way down at the other end so I probably wouldn’t have heard whatever brought a ranking plainclothes officer out to this roach trap.

It was a robbery-homicide, Miss Algodon.

Shit, Rita said, her eyes widening. The desk clerk killed?

Yes. A single gunshot, cash register cleaned out and a small safe taken from behind the counter.

Gunshot? Well, I slept through it.

And what brought you to the Royal Rest? A booking mistake, as I was told?

Yes, exactly. My assistant made the arrangements. I told her not to spend a whole lot and she went below and beyond. By the time I found the place it was too late to do anything about it but check in and hope for a little sleep.

Anyone bother you during the night?

No person. Just this lumpy mattress. It’s that kind of place? I had the chain up.

Smart move. I’m not saying it’s a dangerous place to be, absolutely. Just some unsavory characters come here to do business.

I figured as much. I’m tiny but tough. Mean when I need to be.

All right.

You know what it takes if a petite woman doesn’t want to be helpless. I can tell you’re strong. Not just from your shoulders; I was watching you through the window, giving orders to those big troopers. You project authority.

I wouldn’t be much of a cop if I didn’t.

Or not a sergeant, that’s for sure.

Yes, ma’am. What brought you to Vermont?

A conference in Rutland. Contract law, not criminal.

Much better accommodations to be found right in the city.

Could you recommend one?

The Prentice if you want what passes for luxury in southwestern Vermont. Maybe after a night here, that’s appealing.

The Jaguar with New York license plates parked outside suggested that Rita could afford the Prentice.

I was already calling around this morning, Rita said. That was one of the hotels I tried; said there were no vacancies. I need one more night before I head home.

Oh, I’ll arrange that for you, Miss Algodon, Natalie said with a smug smile. I have contacts with the management.

Rita smiled.

I haven’t even showered!

I suppose the bathtub here wasn’t too inviting.

Fuck, no.

Natalie smiled. The lawyer swore like a New Yorker; it was easy to imagine a working class background and a driven little gal putting herself through college and law school.

You’re from an outer borough? Natalie asked.

Brooklyn.

Natalie nodded. She picked up the receiver from the desk telephone; it had a rotary dialer even though they were more than halfway through 1988.

Yes, hello. This is Detective-Sergeant Dvorak of the State Police. Connect me with Mr. Woolner, please. Oh? Mr. Joyner, then. Thank you.

Natalie smiled at Rita.

Charles? Natalie Dvorak here. I need a room for a witness ASAP.

Rita took off her glasses and rubbed her eyelids.

No, Charles, ‘Uh, let me see’ is not the right answer! You hold three rooms for potential dignitaries and I have one for you. Just one room, just one night. You can have the President and Mrs. Reagan take one of the other two and still be ready in case Frank Sinatra shows up, too.

Rita grinned.

Or put Sinatra in with Nancy and Ronnie can take the other room. Either way, my witness gets her bed.

Natalie sat on the edge of the table and listened.

Her name is Rita Algodon, she said after a few seconds. Real name. Is the room ready now? Good. Thank you, Charles. Yes, send the invoice as usual.

Natalie hung up.

Thank you! Rita exclaimed.

You’re welcome, Natalie said. You won’t mind if I ask you for reimbursement?

Oh, hell no!

Okay, thanks. I’ll take your contact information in a moment. Now, when did you get in last night?

Natalie had already seen the body lying on the floor behind the counter. The high caliber shot through the man’s neck had left a particularly bloody crime scene. The deceased was tentatively identified by Royal Rest’s owner, one Bradley Greene. The body matched Greene’s description of his night clerk, Steve Roos, age thirty-two, of Rutland. Greene had told Natalie about the small yet heavy safe as well, an item now conspicuously absent. Greene was still en route from his home at the time Natalie turned the motel office over to Dr. Alven and his team.

The lawyer’s cleared, then? Gould asked as Rita drove away.

You think she shot Roos? Natalie asked with a sardonic smile. You saw those footprints in blood. Those tracks were huge. That makes the shooter as big as Pruitt.

Natalie nodded over to the giant Trooper Cyrus Pruitt, guarding the motel office.

That little lawyer wears a size 5 shoe at most and I don’t see her carrying off a metal safe that weighs more than me.

None of the other guests here is that big, either.