Fluke: P.I. Frank Johnson Mystery Series, #10

By Ed Lynskey

For his next hardboiled outing, P.I. Frank Johnson accepts a seemingly bizarre case from Jules Sturgeon who has experienced disturbing dreams about her murder. The next morning Frank finds his new client has been killed in her SUV behind a strip mall. He quickly identifies three murder suspects while he forms a theory the Russian mob is also involved. The events careen along until he clashes with his enemies at an old radio studio on a wind-swept knoll. He depends on his long-time business partner Gerald Peyton, his medical examiner wife Dreema, and his brilliant but outspoken attorney Robert Gatlin. Critically acclaimed crime novelist James Crumley wrote of the P.I. Frank Johnson Mystery Series, "With a plot as complex as your grandmother's crocheted doilies, Mr. Lynskey creates a portrait of the rural hill country that rings as true as the clank of a Copenhagen can on a PBR can, as does his handle on guns, love, and betrayal. This novel is well worth the read and makes me want more."

• Language: English
• Publisher: ECL Press
• Release date: Feb 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9798215594575

Book preview

Fluke

A P.I. Frank Johnson Mystery

Ed Lynskey

LICENSE STATEMENT

Copyright © 2021 by Ed Lynskey and ECL Press. All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author.

This e-Book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-Book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the vendor of your choice and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Front cover credit: Black and white fedora hat on a black leather couch. Photograph by Rafael Nast @apollon on Unsplashed website. Commercially licensed under Unsplashed license. Reference: https://unsplash.com/license. Downloaded on November 14, 2020.

Other Books by Ed Lynskey

Isabel and Alma Trumbo Cozy Mystery Series

Quiet Anchorage

The Cashmere Shroud

The Ladybug Song

The Amber Top Hat

Sweet Betsy

Murder in a One-Hearse Town

Vi’s Ring

Heirloom

A Big Dill

Eve’s Win

To Dye For

Fowl Play

Private Investigator Frank Johnson Mystery Series

Pelham Fell Here

The Dirt-Brown Derby

The Blue Cheer

Troglodytes

The Zinc Zoo

After the Big Noise

Death Car

Bent Halo

Clover

Fluke

Hope Jones Cozy Mystery Series (as Lyn Key)

Nozy Cat 1

Nozy Cat 2

Nozy Cat 3

Nozy Cat 4

Billie Sue Dalton Cozy Mystery Series

A Rugged Job

Carpet Diem

Rugs to Riches

Ginny Dove Cozy Mystery Series (as Lea Charles)

Found Key

Easy Peasy

No Picnic

Juno Patchen Cozy Mystery Series

Berried Truth

Berried Past

Berried Clues

Piper and Bill Robins Cozy Mystery Series

The Corpse Wore Gingham

Fur the Win

Chapter 1

The woman told us she dreamed of her murder. She didn’t bat an eye as I waited for the punch line. We’d share a chuckle. You got me good with that one, I’d say. However, Gerald, seated behind his desk, stayed silent. I’d accepted many types of cases from our clients over the years, but murder, even the dream of one, was tricky. Though we’d solved a few homicide mysteries, I hoped to quit investigating them. I glanced at Gerald still doing his Buddha routine. I was the one who had to tell her no.

Did you hear me, Mr. Johnson? the woman asked.

I nodded. I’m thinking, Ms. Sturgeon, I replied.

Please call me Jules, she said.

Jules, I said. We shy away from accepting murder cases.

I understand. Jules flicked her bangs from out of her jade green eyes. What if I double your customary fee? Are you still shy?

Once again, I looked at Gerald. He grinned. He knew she’d just hooked me like a fly angler does a rainbow trout. In our racket, money greased the skids. If she could pay twice as much, I wondered if I could squeeze her for three times. I was as mercenary as the next PI. However, her steely composure warned me if I got too pushy, she’d stand up and stroll out the door just as cool as she’d strolled through it. Then we’d get zilch. Gerald spoke for the first time.

What Frank means is we’ll hear you out, Gerald said.

As business partners, we had a 50-50 say in our affairs. I was the founding partner, but Gerald was the larger—much larger—partner. He had muscles in his eyeballs. Things usually ran smoothly, and we got along fine. Our caseload hadn’t picked up as the Covid-19 virus pandemic wound down, and people got their vaccinations.

My side effects had been a sore arm at the injection site and a low-grade fever for 24 hours. Since I purported to be a hard-boiled guy, I sloughed it off. The folks who skipped their vaccinations when their turns came rolled the dice. The variants had taken their toll. Two of my in-laws had died of the Covid-19 virus, and Dreema was still trying to get their funeral details. I detested funerals more than I did murders. I’d boycott my own funeral if I could finagle it. Jules cleared her throat.

What makes you think somebody wants to kill you? I asked.

As I just said, I dreamed about it, Jules replied. Please don’t condescend to me. I’ve learned to put stock in my dreams.

Your case, Jules, is macabre, to put it mildly, I said.

Jules snapped her jade green eyes at me. If you can only ridicule me, I’m in the wrong place, she said. I must have gotten some bad information about you.

I gave her a closer appraisal. Are you a referral? I asked.

I thought I mentioned Mr. Gatlin sent me, Jules replied. After I told him my story, he provided me with your address and said I should consult with you. So, here I sit in your dusty, somewhat quaint office.

Jules hadn’t mentioned him. However, her disclosure cleared up my confusion. Robert Gatlin, Esq., was the self-made billionaire criminal attorney headquartered in Middleburg, Virginia, who was my patron saint and my pain in the ass. Practicing before the bench, his flamboyant style infuriated many of those in the courtroom, which included the judge and prosecutors.

His clients, however, benefited from his shrewd legal maneuvers and surgically precise cross-examinations. The bulk of his barrister trade nowadays was pro bono since he represented destitute and downtrodden clients. However, we didn’t give his referrals the same treatment since we had our bills to pay (our business insurance premium had just come due). He accepted the clients with hardest-luck tales, and Jules fit right in with them.

Don’t you also experience vivid dreams, Mr. Johnson? Jules asked.

I was about to say no, but Gerald interjected with his two cents.

Describe your Irish premonitions to Jules, Frank, Gerald said. He forms them three or four times a week. He also has detective hunches, sneaky feelings, and your garden-variety inklings. You’ll never meet a more superstitious private eye, either. He goes nowhere without his lucky .243 bullet on his key chain.

Goodness me, Mr. Johnson, Jules said. And here I thought I had it bad.

Gerald chuckled, but I didn’t.

If you fear your life is in peril, we need more to go on than what you can dredge up from your dreams, I said. What else can you tell us?

I have received no written or verbal threats, Jules replied. Nobody stalks me, and I don’t have any enemies I know about.

Are you on social media? I asked.

I never caught the Facebook or Twitter bug, Jules replied. I guess I’m too busy to fool with them.

So, your dark dream imagery is all you have, I said.

That’s it. Jules smiled.

I took a moment to place her face. She put me in mind of somebody I’d either seen or met. What’s the deal with your ex? I asked.

Twyman Hall is out of the picture, Jules replied. "We divorced three years ago, and he’s an irrelevant nobody. I reverted to my maiden name. Thank God we had no kids to complicate things.

Maybe Twyman isn’t as irrelevant as you like to think, I said. Was your divorce an amicable one?

We did everything but go for the jugular and claw out each other’s eyes, Jules replied. Only the shark lawyers got anything out of it.

I felt the same way about my divorce. Is Twyman the man in your dreams? I asked.

The man’s face is too blurry for me to tell who he is, Jules replied. However, the shadowy figure is driven by evil intent.

Evil intent? My tone was quizzical. How can you determine that?     

The things he carries speak to it, Jules replied.

Do you mean like a handgun and a knife? I asked.

He totes a scalp and a skull, Jules replied. Who is he? Where did he get them? Why does he antagonize me? But, you see, it’s a dream. Who can speak in a dream? Do you have a voice to utter your thoughts while you’re asleep?

I had a rueful smile. My dreams aren’t nearly as vivid as yours, so I don’t need a voice.

Count it as your good fortune, Jules said. I’m jolted awake from the ghastliest nightmares I’ve ever had in my life. My heart thumps against my ribs. The trickles of sweat fall into and burn my eyes. I heave to catch my breath, and my fingers knot up into fists. You get the picture.

Right. Vivid dreams, I said. Are you frightened that the scalp and skull belong to you?

But of course they’re mine, Jules replied. Didn’t I make that clear?

You haven’t supplied us with anything tangible to investigate, I said.

Can’t you grub around like you snoops do and see if a crackpot stranger or somebody who holds a grudge has it in for me? Jules asked. Your checking it out will be a comfort to me.

I’d listened to Jules Sturgeon tell her story with my undivided attention, and I still didn’t grasp her dilemma. If she was a basket case, she needed a different referral. I’d no education in psychiatry. Gatlin shepherded her to us before he’d gotten her full story. We’d chat about his oversight. First, though, I had to find a graceful but firm way to get rid of Jules, so we could get some work done.

Jules, I’m known as a straight shooter, I said. I don’t know how to get my hands around your case. Follow me? I spread my fingers to show my futility. You say you have a foreboding an unknown person has designs on your life. Your active dream life reinforces your fear with your hideous images of a cannibalistic fiend who never shows you his face. Where do I even get started?

Mr. Gatlin said you’d set my mind at ease, Jules said.

His area of expertise is the law, I said. Ours is the private investigation side of the business.

In other words, Mr. Gatlin cannot speak for us, Gerald said.

I nodded and then asked, If we put a name with your cannibalistic fiend, then what happens?

I expect you to protect me from him, Jules replied. Pretty soon he’ll get scared or frustrated and leave me alone.

Neither of us are professional bodyguards, I said. We’re not registered as personal protection specialists, and we have to follow the state law.

I heard you’re available for hire, Jules said. Don’t you carry guns?

We do when an edgy situation calls for it, I replied.

Mr. Gatlin spoke highly of your exploits, Jules said. You’ve gone up against the Russian mob and come out on top. I must tell you how impressed I am by it.

We’ve had a couple of brushes with the Russian mobsters, I said.

I bet they’re afraid to tangle with you, Jules said.

They fear nothing or nobody, I said. If anything, they begrudgingly respect us, and making that claim is a stretch.

Same difference, isn’t it? Jules said.

Mr. Gatlin exaggerates when he spins his tales, I said.

Don’t sell yourselves short, Jules said. Your clients must like a pair of sturdy private eyes on their side.

We just do our jobs, and that’s it, I said.

Can’t you run a cursory probe? Jules asked. I’ll feel less terrified if I know my dreams don’t portend any evil or harm.

When Jules flashed her jade green eyes at Gerald, who could break a man in half, he caved like a cheap umbrella on a windy afternoon.

We’ll investigate your concern for a day and forward our results to you, Gerald said.

Oh my yes, I’d like that! Smiling at Gerald, Jules clasped her hands. Thank you! How quickly can you schedule it? Is this afternoon too soon?

We have little on our plate right now, so you’re in luck, Gerald replied.

Give me a rough idea of how we’ll delve into Jules’ problem, I said.

First, we’ll interview Twyman Hall, Gerald replied. Where does he live?

He rents a bedroom at the old Tandy farmhouse on the bypass, Jules said. Mrs. Tandy filled in the swimming pool and installed a chain-link fence in the backyard for her boarders who own pets.

Where is Twyman employed? I asked.

He’s never been a ball of fire, and one reason I divorced him, Jules replied. He was a janitor at the high school.

You know a lot about your ex’s situation, I said.

Pelham is a small town despite the sprawl and new subdivisions, Jules said. People wag their tongues, and my hairdresser Hilda Montross does it better than most.

Have you any reason to believe Twyman wishes to harm you? I asked.

We haven’t communicated since our divorce became final, Jules replied. I have no desire to start a post-split relationship with him.

You sidestepped my question, I said. Does Twyman have a brutal nature? Are you worried he’ll attack you?

When he’s angry, he turns abusive, loud, and unpredictable, Jules replied. "He busted my jaw once and refused to believe it when I told him. I didn’t go to the police, as I should have done. Am I frightened of him? Yes, I am. Is he who I dream about? I don’t know. Is he where you should start? Yes, I’d