Snippets of Murder

By C. D. Moulton

Seven shorter mysteries from the CD Grimes, Clint Faraday, Nick Storie, and Merlin Tyana series that were recommended by readers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C. D. Moulton
• Release date: Oct 9, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215716533

Book preview

Snippets of Murder

Seven shorter works

© 2022 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 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 actual persons or events are purely coincidental unless otherwise stated.

Contents

About the author

Small Town

Fish Tales

Swan Song for an Agent

Mirrors

Interim

Oye!

A Perfect Murder

You What?!

About the author

CD Moulton has traveled extensively over much of the world both in the music business, where he was a rock guitarist, songwriter and arranger and in an import/export business. He has been everything from a bar owner to auto salvage (junkyard) manager, longshoreman to high steel worker, orchid grower to landscaper, tropical fish farmer to commercial fisherman. He started writing books in 1983 and has published more than 250 books as of January 1, 2015. His most popular books to date are about research with orchids, though much of his science fiction and fantasy work has proven popular. He wrote the CD Grimes, PI series and the Det. Nick Storie series, Clint Faraday series and many other works.

He now resides in Puerto Armuelles, Panamá, where he writes  books, plays music with friends, does research with orchids and medicinal plants – and pursues his favorite ways to spend his time: beach bum and roaming the mountain jungles doing his botanical research. He has lately become involved in fighting for the rights of the indigenous people, who are among his closest friends, and in fighting the extreme corruption in the courts and police in Panamá.

He offers the free e-book, Fading Paradise, that explains what he has been through because of the corruption.

CD is the discoverer of the Chadam Protocol for curing cancer.

Facebook page Ambrosia peruviana for cancer.

Small Town

CD Grimes

I was glad I married Sheel (Sheila Crane) and took her away from all that money and ease. Believe me. If nothing else it took the labor of running the C. D. Grimes Detective Agency and put it into proper perspective. She was worth millions and her father, old (Not really that old!) JR, owned most of Nicely (God, I hate that name), Grombey County, and the whole state, for that matter.

She really dressed the place up – not by putting in a lot of fancy stuff, but by simply walking into the room. We had been married only a short time and it was all still new to me. I was sure it always would be.

I was drinking a big mug of the special coffee she'd mixed, blended, roasted, or whatever the hell it is they do with fine gourmet coffee and watching her while she went around the office shoving things where they belonged in the files. A year ago I would have been sipping scotch instead of coffee and the files would be wherever they happened to fall – not that there were a whole lot of them.

The phone rang. (Wasn't that portentous? I use words like that now.) Sheel picked it up and said, Grimes Agency.

She listened for a minute, then said, I'll tell him, Sheriff Buford, and hung up. Buford says he'd like to meet you at the Trucker for lunch. It's important. She raised one eyebrow at me. I answered, I don't have any idea. I'll let you know when he tells me.

It was almost noon so I kissed her goodbye and drove to the Truck Stop Café across from the sheriff's department building. I parked in my usual spot around back. Buford was at a rear booth waving at me as I came in so I patted Lucille and went to sit across from him.

Lucille owned the place and acted as waitress and cashier. She was around sixty five, but still had a body men turned to stare after. Her hair was a clear white – from the rear you'd think she was a very young platinum blonde – almost an albino color. She always patted her regular customers on their rears and we all returned the compliment. Our wives made remarks if they saw us, but they'd ask if we were mad at her if we didn't. It was one of those little things people do who know each other well.

I ordered a cuppa I knew would taste terrible after Sheel's special stuff, but I was only there to talk to Buford anyhow.

You working on anything special? Buford asked, though he had to know there wasn't much to do in a place like Nicely (Lord, I hate that name).

Staying underfoot.

Heard about the trouble in Langsford and Turndon?

Trouble? No.

He watched me carefully. Dutch Hollis was killed in a bank job in Langsford and Perry Ames was killed during an attempted bar holdup in Turndon.

No loss, I answered. They were bound to get it sooner or later. They're both cheap hoods.

You picture Dutch holding up a bank?

I thought a minute, then shook my head. "No. I don't picture Perry touching a gun, much less holding up any bar and Dutch would stay so far from a federal rap.... No. I don't see it.

I see what you mean. A wimp and a brawler don't do those kinds of things.

You don't have to go to Denmark to smell something rotten, Buford said dryly. There's an unpleasant odor about this I can't quite put my finger on. Why would some crummy two-bit pusher like Ames or a cheap penny-ante hustler like Hollis end up shot like that?

I don't know. I also don't know what difference it makes to you. We're better off without them.

I'm the Grombey County Sheriff as well as Chief of Police in Nicely. Everyone calls me sheriff, but they forget it's not honorary. You look at me as the head cop just here.

You’ve got me good there! I even campaigned for you and I forgot. It's because nothing ever happens in the county part. There's nothing here but Nicely.

"And Turndon and Langsford. They're just a couple of one store, two bar towns where the worst that happens is a traffic ticket. Nicely has nineteen thousand people and the entire rest of the county has only six thousand.

So why do two people end up wasted while committing crimes in those places and not in Nicely? That bank doesn't have more than a few thousand in cash at any one time and that bar probably doesn't do two hundred on a good day!

I'm appointed special investigator?

Special secret investigator. I can only pay you twenty a day, plus room, but you owe me some, and, well....

I'm married to several million and don't need the money?

He grinned. He knew damned well I'd soon go nuts without a little something to do – and there was something ominous behind this one. I could see what he thought must be happening.

Okay. I'll go investigate a possible claim for CR Mutual Insurance Underwriters' Cooperative Comprehensive Safety Fund, Incorporated.

You're kidding!

I've got some very official-looking calling cards and fancy letterheads to go with them. JR Crane set it up so I'd be able to help with some stuff at those top secret plants. I think it's a legitimate company.

Be careful. You're dealing with something that can be fatal. We don't have a clue to just who's involved. Don't trust anyone but me. Not anyone at all!

I nodded and went out. This was the kind of thing I trained to be a detective for. I could even use a disguise and the phony (maybe) papers for the first time.

I checked into Langsford's only motel, ate a greasy dinner at the local slop shop, then went into the Out Inn for a beer. With a name like that I didn't expect much and I sure as hell didn't get much. The beer was flat and too warm and the pretzels were soggy. There was one old woman playing polkas on an old juke box with one dead speaker and the other torn. A wino was drinking Mad Dog like it was water.

I asked about the attempted holdup, but the bartender said he didn't even know about it until they shot the guy outside the back alley door.

"All I know is I heard somebody out there yell, `Stop or I'll shoot!' then a little `pop' from the twenty two the guy had, then the shotgun and three fifty seven the two sheriffs had. They were checking the alley when they saw the guy at the back door with the gun in his hand.

Hell! I didn't have twenny bucks in the whole joint! 'Twern't worth no killin'! He looked at me a minute, then asked, You internal affairs or somethin'?

Nah-ah, not on this one. Insurance underwriter investigator.

What's insurance got to do with it?

County cops have been shooting too many people. My company underwrites the county. You know how these crooks can be. Some cousin or part time girlfriend or somebody who wants to get rich quick always sues for wrongful death. They never collect, but we have to go through the motions.

I know what you mean. This ain't gonna make my rates go up, is it? I mean, I'm working for the damned insurance companies now!

No. If they try to raise you any yell bloody murder to the insurance commission at the capital and they'll back off. Fast. They'll probably try though. A lot of them are worse than the hood who got shot.

He grinned and agreed.

I forced a bit more of the beer down before going back to the motel. It was fishy as all hell and would get worse. I knew what was going on there – but not why.

In the morning I went to the local undertaker – who subbed as the coroner – to ask for some things. He was mad as hell because I insisted on tests that should've been made and weren't.

It's up to you. You are aware you can be made to refund any and all monies you've collected in the past seven years from the county if I point out the investigations were incompetent for the job?

I made that up, but it scared him enough to make him promise the tests would be ready later in the day. They were all simple ones.

I strolled around awhile, then ate in a rather decent little restaurant out near the interstate, took in a movie and was back at the funeral parlor where the acting coroner handed me the test results and said, What's going on? What's this all about?

I read them over and asked, Did you go to the scene?

Yes. State law.

No gloves found?

Just what's on the list.

Where's the gun?

Sheriff's station in Langsford.

Keep your mouth shut tight about this and about me being in here investigating or you could end up shot while robbing graves or something. This is no joke.

He was sweating profusely. Business is very bad. My mother is ill over in Gardner. I think I'll go on a cruise to the Virgin Islands now instead of this winter.

All this is sworn testimony so that might be very smart. I'll wait two days before I do anything with it.

I drove to Langsford the following morning to check into the town's best motel. They had two. The diner wasn't bad and the theater had a better picture. Thing called Ridge Rider. I'd been in the area several years ago so knew there was good pike fishing in the river.

Before going fishing I rented a safety deposit box at their bank, was assured the sheriff checked the place `all the time,' put five thousand in cash in it along with the reports from the coroner, then spent a pleasant afternoon. I didn't catch anything except a