Medley of Murderous Intent (The Zane Brothers Detective Series Book 5)

By Patricia Catacalos

London, 1908...the Olympics are taking place in London and John Baxter Taylor, Jr., an African American, will be competing in the medley relay race. However, someone does not want John participating in the Olympics and is threatening bodily harm if he competes. John’s American friends, Gatlin Evers and his sister Callie, approach the Zane Brothers Detective Agency, requesting both protection for John and investigation into who is threatening the athlete. Seth Zane and his brothers accept the assignment which proves to be a dangerous one...both for the brothers and the visiting Americans.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patricia Catacalos
• Release date: Oct 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005146658

Patricia Catacalos

I hold a BA in Theatre from Seton Hill University and a MA in Theatre from the University of Denver. Years ago, when still single, I acted in and directed plays in the Philadelphia area but suffered the fate of many artists, struggling financially. So I entered a career in sales. But, my creative spirit needed to express itself and several years, ago, I started writing historical romances. I discovered that writing historical romances is my passion. I love weaving historical personalities into my plot, interacting with my fictional characters. Recently, I began writing historical mysteries/intrigue and again, love the aspect of interspersing historical fact and personalities into my story line.I am married to a loving and supportive man with a Greek heritage (which influenced a couple of my novels) and we live in southern New Jersey.

Book preview

Medley of Murderous Intent

By

Patricia Catacalos

Medley of Murderous Intent

Patricia Catacalos

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Cover by K. J. Joyner

Copyright © 2022 by Patricia Catacalos

All characters in this book, except historical personalities, have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author and all incidents are pure invention.

Prologue

1908 Ocean Voyage

Deck 3, Coal-fired Steamship

Sweat peppered his furrowed brow and snaked down his face in elongated trickles, dripping off his nose and chin as he bent forward, large hands cupping his knees, gasping for breath. The taut ebony skin on his back was wet with perspiration, drenching his short-sleeved cotton shirt, as his knee-length shorts clung to his toned thighs glistening with sweat.

He gasped for breath as his chest heaved, waiting for his lungs to fill with much needed air.

Then, he turned his head toward the stern, angling it over his right shoulder, to see if anyone was behind him on the wide wooden deck. But no one trailed in his wake. He then turned his bent body forward, with hands still cupping his knees, lifting his eyes to peer down the deck leading to the ship’s bow. His gaze ascertained if anyone was promenading or standing near the railing enjoying the pink and purple hued dawn sky serving as backdrop to the rising sun. The deck was empty.

He stood erect, rotating his head in circles as bones in his neck cracked in response.

Movement to his left caught his eye and he smirked.

Bloody hell, John, why didn’t you wake me when you awoke? a young six foot tall athletically built man queried as he agilely walked toward the man with whom he shared a camaraderie. His short dark hair blew slightly in the early morning breeze as his wide forehead creased in puzzlement. He held a folded piece of paper between thumb and forefinger of his right hand noticeably missing two and a half fingers. Perhaps that was why he bore the nickname of ‘Bloody Neck’. Or, it was his overuse of the adjective ‘bloody’ which earned him his moniker.

The black man chuckled as he shook his head. I tried, Bloody Neck, but you just kept snoring.

Nate rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand. You could have tried harder. I need the practice. He lowered his eyes to the paper he held as he added, Found this missive stuck under our state room door, addressed to you. He lifted his eyes to his teammate’s dark eyes as he teasingly suggested, Maybe you have an admirer, a lady who hopes to catch the eye of John Baxter Taylor, Jr.

The handsome, muscular man’s chocolate eyes sparkled as he accepted the proffered note, embarrassed by Nate’s playful remark. Doubt it, he mumbled, in a feigned attempt to disguise his hopefulness, as he unfolded the paper simply addressed ‘Taylor’. His eyes scanned the boldly printed message and a sudden look of both confusion and concern contorted his face, causing a vertical crease to appear between his thick, black brows.

What’s wrong, John? Nate pressed.

John handed the note to Nate who promptly read its contents, aloud, Negro, withdraw from the medley relay race or suffer mortal injury.

Nate suddenly paled as the hand, holding the missive, trembled. Peering into John’s frowning face, he blurted, Who the bloody hell did you anger that he would threaten you?

John shook his head. No one. I have kept to myself and associated only with the members of our club. Furtively, he looked up and down the length of the deck, searching for anyone eavesdropping on the conversation.

Nate also shook his head, mirroring John’s head movement. "We warned you that there would be prejudiced individuals sailing on this vessel…be they Olympic competitors or spectators. And that you needed to be bloody careful. His eyes dropped to the note he still held in his right hand. This is clearly a threat. We best be discussing this with the team…and of course, with Gatlin."

John nodded in agreement as he snatched the note from Nate’s hand, quickly folding it and stuffing it into one of the deep pockets of his shorts. Let’s firstly practice. His eyes narrowed as his full lips pursed. Emphatically, he stated, Threat or no threat, no one will prevent me from participating at the Olympics in London. No one!

Chapter One

Mayfair Section, London 1908

They lifted their eyes to the rectangular wooden sign swaying slightly in the breeze, squeaking on its two rusty chains, and announcing, in gold lettering on a forest green background, the location of that which the three individuals sought…The Zane Brothers Detective Agency. The signage was attached to a long wrought-iron signpost secured to a brick building and hanging above double doors freshly painted green. The gold trim, on the sign, was peeling, hinting that it had been hanging above the doors for several years.

The young woman held her right hand on the crown of her pink hat, slightly aslant atop her head, as its wide brim gently fluttered in the afternoon breeze, a soft respite to the oppressive summer heat. She lowered her green eyes, fringed with long dark lashes, from the sign hanging high above her head and nodded to her two male companions.

John Baxter Taylor, Jr. courteously opened one of the two wooden doors, causing a brass bell above the door to ding, and graciously allowed the lady and her brother to enter the establishment, immediately followed by John. Upon entering an antechamber, John doffed his hat and smiled at the pretty receptionist seated at a small desk to the right of the entrance.

The extremely attractive young woman, lifted her eyes off a book she was reading and smiled luminously at the threesome.

Gatlin Evers nearly stumbled backward from the radiance of the young lady’s smile. Recovering his composure, he mirrored her smile as he approached the desk, hat in hand.

Callie could not help noticing her brother’s awkward and seemingly captivated response to the pretty receptionist. The young woman, whom Callie surmised was eight and ten years of age to her brother’s four and twenty years, was very pretty with her auburn hair swept atop her head, in a bouffant style, with soft reddish curls kissing her smooth forehead. Her large, expressive green eyes were prominent above a pert nose and full lips.

Good morning. May I help you? she sweetly asked as she coyly averted her eyes from Gatlin’s intense stare.

Gatlin stood mesmerized by the young lady. So, Callie stepped forward, stating, We would like an appointment with Mr. Evan Zane. He was recommended to us. We have a matter of great importance to discuss with him.

The seated receptionist lifted her eyes to Callie as she graciously explained, Mr. Evan Zane is my father, but he is no longer an active detective in our agency. He serves as a consultant now as do his brothers, my Uncle Zachery and Uncle Noah.

Callie frowned. Then to whom should we speak regarding a matter requiring the services of this detective agency?

The smiling young lady stood as she gaily responded, You can speak with one of my brothers who now operate this detective agency. Please give me a moment. She turned to her right, crossing with seductively swaying hips to a closed portal, knocked on the door and disappeared into a room beyond the door. Within seconds, she reappeared in the open doorway and gestured for the three individuals to enter the room she had just exited as she stated, My brother will see you now.

Callie smiled at the gesturing woman and sauntered into the interior office, but abruptly stopped at the sight of the young man, possibly in his late twenties, standing behind a desk. She blinked. He was perhaps one of the most handsome men she had ever encountered and she suddenly felt uncharacteristically unnerved to be in his presence. He was a tall man, at six feet, with a slender, athletic build. His hair was honey-blonde and curly, worn slightly longer than current styles dictated and brushing the top of his high collar. His eyes were a deep, piercing blue dominating chiseled features above a square jaw. She surmised that he was perhaps seven and twenty years of age to her own six and twenty years.

The Zane brother impishly smiled at Callie and she instantly collected her thoughts, crossing to one of two chairs positioned in front of an old oak desk. He appeared to know his captivating effect on her and that angered her. She sat, defiantly lifting her chin to the man who stood cockily watching.

Gatlin crossed directly to the man silently observing his sister with sparkling eyes and extended his hand as he stated, "I am Gatlin Evers and this is my sister, Mrs. Callie McClure. Turning toward John, he added, And this is our friend John Baxter Taylor, Jr."

Callie closely watched the man’s reaction to Gatlin’s introduction, noticing a fleeting look of disappointment when Gatlin emphasized her marital status. But the look was so fleeting that she thought perhaps she imagined it. She was pleased to see the young man shake Gatlin’s hand and then without hesitance, extend his hand to John who accepted it with a strong handshake.

A pleasure to meet you. I am Seth Zane. Turning toward his sister, he gently suggested, You may close the door behind you, Laura. Thank you.

But, Sparky, you may need me to take notes, Laura eagerly suggested, obviously disappointed in being dismissed.

Callie tilted her head. Sparky? She smiled, enjoying the moment of familial intimacy.

‘Sparky’ suddenly appeared discomfited. He smiled, apologetically. Sparky is my family’s nickname for me. Once again addressing his sister, he firmly stated, Your services are not needed at this time, Laura. Please close the door and return to the receptionist desk.

Laura suddenly looked petulant as if she were a child being denied a treat. But she reluctantly did as her brother instructed.

Once the door was closed, Seth explained in a somewhat apologetic tone, Laura is a very…inquisitive young lady. He smiled, engagingly. I apologize for only having two chairs. Please, Mr. Taylor, sit at my desk and I shall stand during this interview.

John shook his head. I am fine standing, sir.

As am I, Gatlin stated as he placed a hand on Callie’s shoulder.

Looking directly at the seated Callie, Seth queried, And where might your husband be, Mrs. McClure? By your brother’s accent, I surmise that you are from across the pond. Did your husband remain in America?

Callie stiffened almost imperceptibly before responding matter-of-factly, I am a widow, Mr. Zane. Callie thought that Seth’s expression softened into a relieved expression, but she was not certain. Again, the look was fleeting.

I am sorry for your loss.

Thank you. But I have been a widow for over five years and condolences are no longer necessary.

Regardless of the length of time since your bereavement, a loss is still a loss.

Callie tilted her head in silent agreement.

Looking to Gatlin and then to John, Seth queried, How can I help you, today, gentlemen and… Lowering his penetrating eyes to the seated Callie, he graciously added, …lady?

The three visitors looked at each other, silently asking each other who should take the lead. John Baxter Taylor Jr. subtly nodded at Callie. She turned toward Seth and began, My brother, Gatlin, and John both graduated from the University of Pennsylvania’s School of Veterinary Medicine. They have been fast friends since freshman year when John became the Intercollegiate Association of Amateur Athletes of America champion in the quarter mile.

Impressive… Seth observed as he eased toward his desk and then lowered his left posterior cheek onto the corner of the functional furniture.

Callie nervously felt that his new position, in nearer proximity to where she sat, seemed to loom over her, causing her to lower her eyes as she continued. The Irish American Athletic Club recruited both John and my brother into their midst…

Irish…? Seth laughingly observed, interrupting Callie’s explanation.

She lifted her narrowed eyes to Seth. "Yes, Mr. Zane…The Irish American Athletic Club has several members who are not Irish, but who are indeed athletically gifted…as are John and my brother, Callie continued, somewhat piqued by Seth’s amused interjection. And now representing said club, John is participating in the Olympics in the 400 meters race and as a member of the men’s medley relay team."

Seth smiled at John. Congratulations. That is quite an achievement. Turning to Gatlin, he pointedly asked, Are you also running in the 400 meters race or are you a teammate on the medley relay team?

Gatlin shook his head. No, I am competing in the dueling competition which is a demonstration sport.

The right corner of Seth’s mouth inched upward, creating a crooked grin, as he crossed his arms against his chest. Also, impressive…however, this does not explain the purpose of your visit.

Callie slightly stiffened her posture as she declared, Should John win an Olympic metal, he will be the first African American to do so. There are prejudiced individuals who do not wish for him to compete and ultimately, win.

Seth noticed that John’s expression softened as he peered at Callie. He appeared flattered that she referred to him as an African American as opposed to the more commonly used term of ‘negro’. But Seth knew, from his many readings, that the term ‘African American’ had been used since 1872. Yet it had not defined black men as had the word ‘negro’.

Seth’s brow furrowed as he contemplated Callie’s words. He angled his face toward John as he perceptively asked, Have you been threatened?

John nodded as he reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved the missive which had been left under the door to his stateroom. He proffered the folded piece of paper to Seth who immediately unfolded it and scanned its contents.

Seth lifted his eyes off the message as he addressed John, Do you suspect anyone in particular as being the author of this missive?

John shook his head. No one in particular, sir. I kept to myself aboard ship or was always accompanied by either Gatlin or one of my three teammates. Except for one encounter… He paused as he looked to Gatlin.

Mayhap I should relate the tale, John, as I witnessed more than you as you were a bit preoccupied at the time, Gatlin suggested before turning toward Seth and explaining, "John was brutally attacked five days prior to the