Night Shift: Det. Lt. Nick Storie Mysteries, #4

By C. D. Moulton

8 shorter mysteries defining Nick, his job, and his personaality, Familiarizes the people he works with.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C. D. Moulton
• Release date: Jun 19, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201234591

Book preview

Nick Storie

Book four

Night Shift

8 shorts

© 1987 & 2019 by C. D. Moulton

all rights reserved: no part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any other information retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright holder/ publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Critic comment

The kind of things you like to read on a plane or while relaxing. Quite good, actually.

Moulton was in rock music, so Swan Song for an Agent is especially recommended.

Rating: ***½

TTD

Contents

About the author

1 = Death of a Bitch

2 = Swan Song for an Agent

3 = Wrong Turn

4 = Fish Tale

5 = Bad Scene

6 = Comedy Ain't Funny

7 = You're Perkin With Harkin

8 = War Children

About the author

CD was born in Lakeland, Florida, in 1938. He is educated in genetics and botany. He has traveled over much of the world, particularly when he was in music as a rock rhythm guitarist with some well-known bands in the late sixties and early seventies. He has worked as a high steel worker and as a longshoreman, clerk, orchidist, bar owner, salvage yard manager and landscaper – among other things.

CD began writing fiction in 1984 and has more than 300 books published as of 3/15/16 in SciFi, murder, orchid culture and various other fields.

He now resides in Puerto Armuelles, David, and Gualaca, Chiriqui, Panamá, where he continues research into epiphytic plants and plays music with friends. He loves the culture of the indigenous people and counts a majority of his closer friends among that group. Several have adopted him as their father. He funds those he can afford through the universities where they have all excelled. The Indios are very intelligent people, they are simply too poor (in material things and money. Culturally, they are very wealthy) to pursue higher education.

CD loves Panamá and the people, despite horrendous experiences (Free e-book; Fading Paradise). He plans to spend the rest of his life in the paradise that is Panamá

- Estrelita Suarez V. de Jaramillo – 3/15/2016

CD is involved in research of natural cancer cure at this time. It has proven effective in all cases, so far. It is based on a plant that has been in use for thousands of years, is safe, available, and cheap. He has studied botany, and was cured of a serious lymphoma with use of the plant, Ambrosia peruviana.

Information about this cure is free on the FaceBook group, Natural medicine research. CD asks only that all who try it please report on its effectiveness on that group.

Death of a Bitch

Prologue

Lutetia Ascot-Turens watched Francis drive his golf cart out the drive and turn toward the club. She sighed heavily.

What was there about golf that so involved all the men? He'd played all morning and was going back now, after three o'clock, to practice his putts awhile? Hit a little white ball, get in your cart to ride to where it lands and hit it again. The most important part of golf was the bar. At their age (early sixties) she didn't care if Francis did find some young golddigger there. They had plenty, and he wouldn't do more than delude himself with some fantasy, anyhow. He was only good for maybe once a week in his more active periods, the last few years.

She went to the back terrace, slipped off her bathrobe, and laid on the chaise lounge. Her sunglasses and lemonade were on the table. She rang her little silver bell, told Mildred to send Steve around as soon as he came, picked up the Agatha Christie novel by her seat, and began on chapter seven.

The Foxes went out the canal in their too-fancy ocean cruiser. She didn't know they'd planned a trip, but they didn't use the larger vessel, except for their yearly extended vacations.

That would be easy to see!

Lutetia rang her bell to tell Mildred to bring her cell phone and number book. As soon as she had them, she checked for the SS number for the yacht and called. Steve came out of the house, just as Errol answered. She waved to the satchel of suntan lotion and towel by the massage table as she said, Errol? Lutetia here. I saw you leaving and wanted to wish you two bon voyage.

Oh, I say! How thoughtful of you! Errol announced (He announced everything. He never simply said anything), then to the side, "It's Lutie, Lovie. Bon voyage and all that.

Say, Lutie! We're toodling off to Cancun for a week or ten! You and Frank can buzz on over! We'll be at our villa! Plenty of room! Always good to have you along. Never boring, what?

She just hated it when people called Francis Frank. Her name was not Lutie, it was Lutetia. Still, it really was nice of Errol to invite them – considering.

"We'll take a rain check, Errol. Francis has to work with the stockholders on some business project or other. He simply won’t let Juliette and Kyle handle it. You know how he is when it comes to business."

Yes! Well! Errol declared. Got to get out before the low tide, what? We'll sit at the marker until later and sail under the stars! Lovie and I both love the ocean under the stars! Always the romantic, hey?

They chatted a few minutes, then rang off. She'd learned everything she wanted to know.

Steve, be a dear and oil my back, will you? I think I've been overdoing the sun.

Steve was a masseur she paid to come around because he was so decorative – and because there wasn't one tiny bit of gossip among her small circle of close friends and acquaintances he didn't hear – except for the bits about himself.

Steve spent the remainder of his hour mostly sitting by the pool and chatting. Mildred came out around five to take the satchel into the pool room and to freshen Lutetia's pitcher of drinks. She told her dinner would be served at eight, if that was agreeable. Lutetia said it would be fine.

The kids came over later with their spouses to say hi, but left again almost immediately. That was about ten after five.

Mildred Kerr, house maid and almost slave to Lutetia Ascot-Turens, watched Juliette and Kyle go around the house with their own husband and wife.

Juliette was a rather plain girl, but was also enormously fun to be with. She didn't act at all like her mother.

Mildred was thankful for that! One Lutetia Ascot-Turens was more than enough for the world!

Julie's husband, Nigel, was very nice. He always made jokes about Having to wait hand and foot on that bloody old battleax!

Both of The kids had married well. Phyllis, Kyle's wife, was both pleasant and attractive. That she despised Lutetia was obvious to everyone but Lutetia.

Mildred waved at the four as they went around the house, then waved again as they left a few minutes later. She heard a boat come to the dock and low voices from the terrace. She supposed it was Carl Keller, the man from down the canal. He always buttered up the Turens.

The boat left and came back again a few minutes later, but Mildred was far too busy with dinner to look out there by then. Sarah, the house cleaner, came to say she was leaving at six, then the boat left the dock again.

Nash Folton, their boatman, wasn't around, that she knew of, but that suited Mildred fine. He was a real first class pain in the ass! Thought he was God's gift to women.

Bob Stern, the groundskeeper, rode in on his tractor about then, too. Everybody went home at six. Everybody but Mildred. She lived there. She had her own private apartment. It was nice and convenient, but she could use a bit more freedom.

Oh, well! Another year and she'd have enough saved to tell that vicious bitch exactly where the hell she could stick that kind of job!

Francis Turens came into the drive and stopped to look at his house. It was a true mansion. He'd worked all his life, starting from nothing and less and had built his own fortune. It hadn't hurt marrying the Ascot name and money, but he'd made it on his own before then. Life had been good. He had everything a man could want.

He'd decided to sell out his part of the business. The kids could buy it for a reasonable price or he'd put his fifty one percent on the market. There was no way all that pressure and worry was going to start at this time of his life. Not again. He'd been through it all, already. Once was enough. He wouldn't have the heart to do it again.

You can blame the economy on anyone you please, but the money was already in the bank for the rest of his own life. He was NOT going to take it out and put it into the business. He could walk away from the company and let the kids have it. He'd never hurt!

Times were going to be hard for maybe another three years. He knew business and knew the type of business would restart growing. Construction would very slowly pick up and materials would come more and more into demand. He would tell the kids how to weather this kind of storm, but he was not going to bail them out of it. That would definitely be the wrong message. Those kids had to learn the world wasn't an easy place. They would either learn business or they'd lose the company. It had to be on their own. Not a given. They could only buy enough to retain control between them and raise money by selling the rest of it.

Francis went on to the house, put the golf cart in the garage and went inside where Mildred was preparing a delicious meal. How did such a sweet girl put up with someone like a Lutetia?

He didn't kid himself about his wife for one single minute. She was very self-centered and vain, what most other women called a bitch. The only reason even he got along with her so long and well was because he was the stronger personality. She knew precisely how far she could go with him. The kids had learned how to deal with her long ago, partly because he told them what to do. There were times he could gleefully throttle her to death. Most of the time he was neutral about her. A few times he still actually felt some affection.

She made remarks about him going to the club to meet bimbos, but he liked to talk to young people. They were usually so naive about life. It was refreshing to get away from the cynicism of friends his own age. He sometimes slipped away with a girl for a little fun and relaxation. He didn't mind paying for them. It kept all of it on an acceptable level of professionalism. Lutetia believed, because he was seldom interested in her, that he didn't look for sex with anyone else. It never dawned on her she might have lost any sex appeal to him years ago. With her, it was more like an obligation he had to fulfill. He was always glad when it was over with. She played her own silly games. She'd fantasize about that masseur and sneak off with Carl, who wasn't the only one.

Mildred and Sarah liked him. They'd let a few things out they didn't know about, such as the time less than two weeks ago when Lutetia had gone out on the bay boat with Errol Fox. She'd told him she was going to be playing bridge all afternoon, but she never showed up at the bridge club. Francis knew. He'd checked.

Errol Fox, bought and paid for with the Gunderson money he'd married. It would look like Lutetia could do better. Even she knew he was nothing but a pretty boy for Violet to play with. That phony British act was the first thing Nigel saw through when he started dating Julie. Nigel was real English royal stock, not that that was necessarily a recommendation, the way some of them were acting. Princess Di was the only one of that bunch with any real class.

The kids would buy him out quickly enough. He'd make the terms easy on them.

Mildred told him Lutetia was still out on the terrace. She'd probably had one or two – or maybe five – drinks too many again, even though Mildred made them weak.

Seven twenty five, they would dine at eight – and Lutetia was out there bombed. She'd be inside and dressed, if she weren't. It wouldn't accomplish anything to remonstrate with her. He'd simply go wake her up and tell her it was getting late.

Well, he was going to have to do something about her drinking. It was getting out of hand when she drank herself into a stupor in the middle of the week with absolutely no pressure on her at all!

Chapter one

Lt. Nathaniel Nick Storie came into work for the regular night shift, saw Lt. Jim Hill, day shift homicide and Sgt. Marsha Blevins, aide/ secretary to their boss, Capt. James Paddy James, for the daily reports, chatted a few minutes, told them goodbye then sat at his desk.

Sgt. Shirley Kiser, the receptionist, waved at him when she left and pointed to the Gloom room to let him know Paddy was still in there. Paddy worked all hours. He was a conscientious cop.

Come to that, so did Nick! He worked whenever a case demanded it. The night shift was a lot more a day shift, anymore.

Dr. David Klein came out of Paddy's office with Anthony Tiny Menthorne, the county coroner. Nick waved and grinned to himself, thinking of both Paddy at six four and three twenty five and Tiny at six six and two eighty five in one room. It was a good thing Klein was so thin and small!

Nick's desk phone lit up as Paddy came out so he waved and took it. Storie. Homicide.

Nick? Ruth Tynan, EMS paramedic? came back.

Yo, Ruthie! How's tricks?

"You'd better get over here, Nick. Number six Fountainbleu Drive, Paradise Shores. Woman by the name of Lutetia Ascot-Turens was found sitting on her terrace, unconscious.

"Nick, there's no verdict yet, but I do know cyanide poisoning when I see it."

Don't touch anything!

We haven't. I saw that blue and ordered no one was to get close. It's a terrazzo terrace and it's spotless. There's a drink on the table, about half empty.

Not spilled?

No. It's not likely the stuff's in it.

I'm on my way! I'll bring the coroner's crew.

Paddy had stopped to listen to Nick’s end. He raised an eyebrow.

Disgustingly obscenely rich woman got a mouthful of cyanide at the shores, Nick told him. Paradise Shores.

Paddy rolled his eyes and groaned. With that kind of money, you’ll have to solve it within fifteen minutes or the commission gets calls, then I get calls. With my luck, it'll be less than twelve.

Twelve?

"Numbers one through twelve are the elite of the rich. They have the money to make your everyday multimillionaires look like paupers.

My usual luck. Less than twelve?

Nick grinned and nodded, then headed out. He stopped at the front desk to buzz the coroner's crew.

The place was fantastic! Nick knew there were places like that in the area, but he'd never been to one at quite that level of extravagance. It was a subdued extravagance, not ostentatious. The main building was like a large castle – well, no. It was much more modern than that. The grounds were beautiful. The curved drive was pink gravel. The gardens looked like they had been hand-trimmed by cutting each individual leaf. There wasn't one blade of the perfect, dark, solid grass out of place.

The EMS ambulance was in front of a gate to the side, so he parked and went through to see a large marble pool with a terrazzo terrace to one side and a wide landscaped lawn down to a dock – with a yacht that was at least a hundred twenty footer moored to it. There was even a concrete helicopter pad to the far side of the house!

Ruth saw him and came to lead him to the several people standing on a raised porch that went along the back of the house.

She's right there by the table, Ruth reported. This is Mr. Francis Turens, husband of the deceased, and Miss Mildred Kerr, the house manager.

The crew is on the way now, so I'll try to get a little background before they get here if you don't mind, Nick said, with a sympathetic look. "I have to know who last saw her, spoke to her, and everything else. I'll also have to know where everyone was since the time ... we have to establish that.

Were the two of you here the entire afternoon?

I was in the house, Mildred said. The Mr. was at the club. He came home and found her when he went to get her for dinner.

Mr. Turens, you were at the club? The country club? Nick asked. Francis nodded. What time did you arrive there? What did you do?

"I left here about three to go to the club. I practiced my putting with Bill Lamp and Harry Green then went to the clubhouse