Quarry: P.I. Frank Johnson Mystery Series, #11

By Ed Lynskey

For his next hardboiled outing, P.I. Frank Johnson accepts a case from a distraught woman who suspects her husband of 10 years is having an affair with his female office manager. Before Frank can launch his investigation, her husband is found murdered in his insurance office.  Frank's client quickly comes under suspicion by the town sheriff. He identifies two other murder suspects, the office manager and a disgruntled insurance customer. As always, 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: Ed Lynskey
• Release date: Mar 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9798215393680

Book preview

Quarry

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: Empty street between buildings during night time. Photograph by Morica Pham @moricaphamm 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

Quarry

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 first time I saw Stella Lovejoy, she stood hipshot, lighting a cigarette outside the pitted brass door to Jasper’s Bar & Grill. A tall, angular blonde close to my age, she took an impatient puff before she checked her smartphone. She coughed on the lungful of smoke. I was five minutes late. We’d spoken an hour earlier over the phone when I suggested we discuss our business over lunch. Jasper’s was almost empty at high noon since it was more of a bar than a grill.

However, I knew Jasper fixed a world-beater Reuben sandwich on fresh marbled rye bread with the tangiest sauerkraut on this side of the Rhine. Stella said she was also a fan, so we agreed to meet. Then writing a client’s final report distracted me to pay attention to the clock. I sprinted out of my office and boogied down to Main Street. I didn’t want to miss catching her. The infidelity cases like hers had made up the bulk of our caseload over the past couple of years.

What could I say? They were a mucky job, sure, but I was pragmatic enough to accept them. The offended, indignant, and betrayed partners hired me to document their significant other’s deception, and I got results. What happened after I turned them over did not concern me, and I moved on to work on my next case. You’d be astonished at how easy the cheaters made it for me. Hadn’t they learned to cover their tracks? If you’re in a committed relationship and fancy a romantic fling, my advice is to skip it. Eventually, the professional snoops like me will investigate you, and we’ll blow the lid off your clandestine tryst. Believe me.

The unorthodox collaboration I’d arranged with Virginia State Police Sergeant Bakersfield had fallen through for reasons unclear to me. I’d broken up an opioid drug ring headed by the Russian mob out of an obsolete radio studio. The VSP liked my style and wanted me to infiltrate and help squash the other opioid drug rings. I agreed after they said they’d remunerate me for my time and trouble.

The scent of money always got my attention. I wondered if the VSP brass had yanked away the task force’s budget at the last minute. At any rate, my investigation of the opioid drug dealers had ended. I was back to work on the unfaithful-spouse cases while I banked the fees I collected from my clients.

Are you Mr. Johnson, sir? Stella flicked away the lit cigarette.

I nodded. You must be Mrs. Lovejoy, I replied, mashing it out with my shoe.

Stella, please. Mrs. Lovejoy is my mother-in-law, may her evil soul go to hell.

Likewise, you can address me as Frank.

Stella made a distracted mmm noise. Are you also hungry, Frank?

You bet I am, Stella. Lead on and I’ll follow you inside.

I rarely go to a bar for my lunch.

The chow here is better than the booze.

Are you certain nobody will overhear us?

I smiled. Jasper’s is deserted at this early hour. We’ll speak in guarded murmurs just to be safe.

Stella endeavored to smile, but it wilted. I’m not my best self today. In case you can’t tell, I’m distraught. My life has been turned upside-down in the last 24 hours.

You’re not the first widow I’ve heard utter those troubling words.

You advertise you’re a troubleshooter. I must be seeing the right person.

I didn’t like to speculate on my odds for success until I knew the scope of her problem. Let’s hope for as much. Have you started smoking again? I asked.

How did you know?

Lucky guess, I suppose. How long can you spend with me?

My dental appointment is at one o’clock. I had a damn crown fall off while I chewed a slice of store-bought meatloaf. We’ll cover it with time to spare. My situation isn’t complicated to lay out.

This time I made the mmm noise. Grab the corner booth, I said.

You’ve met with your previous clients here.

Once or twice, yes, I have recommended it to them.

Is it a clean place?

And it’s well-lit, too. We’ll be treated like royalty.

I had Covid-19, and I still get out of breath if I push it too hard.

We share something in common.

I hated those infernal facemasks.

I nodded. Shall we go inside and get seated?

Stella pivoted and stiff-armed the door open. Jasper’s was your typical bar and grill except, as I said, Jasper kept it illuminated and spotless. ZZ Top on the faux-vintage jukebox jammed about scoring some tush. Watching her tight derrière encased in black denim got me thinking. Why did the men who married the most gorgeous, intelligent, and funny women feel compelled to get some strange? They bewildered me. Did they know how lucky they were?

The corner booth was free. My visual sweep spotted no other patrons. My prediction was correct and, more importantly, it guaranteed our privacy. Stella had brought a forlorn tale laced with heartbreak and fury to give me. Like all the king’s men, I couldn’t put the fragments of her life back together. However, I could give her the truth, and it would set her free if she decided to cut ties with her adulterous spouse.

When Jasper poked his head out of the kitchen alcove, I flashed him two fingers to order our Reuben sandwiches. He returned the okay sign. The only non-alcoholic beverage he served was the sweetened iced tea. I fiddled with my wedding band and saw she lacked one. I leaned back in the booth, her cue to hit me with her woes. She lowered her slate gray eyes as if she’d find her first words carved in the wooden tabletop. She choked off her sob, not of sorrow but anger.

You didn’t mention your husband’s name, I said.

My husband is Quarry, Stella said.

He’s called Quarry?

Quarry is his middle name. His grandfather was a boxing fan.

I nodded. Jerry Quarry boxed before my time, but I’ve watched the videos of his matches. He was a fearless slugger with a solid left hook. His biggest downfall was he fought the greats like Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier in the ring. It’s too bad what happened at the end of his life.

Regis Quarry Lovejoy is his full name. Everybody calls him Quarry.

Again, I nodded. What makes you suspect Quarry is fooling around?

Stella actually tapped her nose with her forefinger. The nose always knows, she replied. I smelled the Skank’s perfume on his beard, and I don’t use perfume. That’s how I could detect it so well.

Did you demand an explanation?

He hesitated for a second before he laughed and told me their office manager Tina Wilcox takes a bath in her perfume. He claimed I overreacted with my accusations. I guess he takes me for a fool and thinks he can gaslight me.

Do his clothes also stink of the perfume?

I do the laundry, and only his beard reeks.

He should have shaved it off first.

Stella narrowed her eyes on me. Is your snarky comment supposed to be funny? I don’t find it humorous.

Call it a cynical observation. His lame response could be a red flag. Is there more to report?

Quarry changed the passwords to his smartphone and laptop. I caught him deleting somebody’s texts and emails. He acts more distracted and irritable around the house. We haven’t had sex in months, and we quarrel over stupid, trivial stuff. Last Saturday, he jogged around our neighborhood block twice. The next day he deactivated his Facebook page and Twitter account. He told me they bored him.

How long have you been married?

August 22nd will make it 10 years, so we made it past the seven-year itch.

Have they been mostly good years until lately?

I liked to think we had a solid and satisfying marriage, and I counted it as a blessing. Then Quarry got the notion to bang the Skank and throw it all away.

All right, how might we assist you, Stella?

We?

My business partner is Gerald Peyton, and we operate as a team.

Where is he?

He’s undergoing a medical procedure.

I hope it’s nothing serious.

His colonoscopy is routine. He’s healthy as a horse.

I want to hire you to get me the proof Quarry is banging the Skank.

Their tryst follows the usual script where the boss sleeps with the secretary. Do you know her?

Quarry introduced us at their regional company picnic. Tina Wilcox is 12 years my junior with no stretch marks, liver spots, or gray hairs.

Do you have any kids together?

Irv was our seven-year-old son who plunged through the thin ice while he played hockey on a farm pond and drowned in the deepest spot. Of course, we’d told him to stay away from it, but we know how boys will be boys.

I’m sorry for your loss. When did the tragedy occur?

Thank you. Irv died three years ago. Neither of us was quite the same afterward. I miss Irv every day. We never tried to have more kids.

I said nothing. A few of our past cases had involved kids, which upped the stakes. Putting a child in peril or at risk was one of my taboos. However, sometimes it was unavoidable. Jasper whisked out of the kitchen with our lunch dishes balanced on a serving tray. After he left them without a word, I picked up my Reuben sandwich and took my first bite. As I chewed it, I gave him props for his culinary skills.

Meantime, Stella nibbled at the crust to her Reuben sandwich. Her stomach tied in knots made it painful to eat. I sipped from the tall glass of sweetened iced tea as I studied her averted face: ashen, taut, and pinched. She slogged through her bog of despair.

Let’s put first things first. How much are your fees? Stella asked. We have to know if I can afford you.

My overhead forces me to charge a half-day minimum, I replied. However, your case should be short and sweet, probably to the tune of an hour or so.

What is your hourly rate then?

I gave her the low hourly rate I reserved for the clients I liked. Yeah, I knew it was dumb, but it was how I rolled. I’d tail lover boy Quarry after hours when he left the office and rendezvoused with Tina at their favorite lair, usually a forgettable, nondescript tavern much like where I now sat with Stella. All I needed to photograph was the money-shot frame when they kissed each other.

Friends kissed on the cheek, but lovers kissed on the lips with longing and passion. Quarry and Tina would do the latter as they embraced, full of smiles and laughs. A damning photo spoke ten thousand words. Then I’d slip away, quiet as a shadow on the street, and take up my next client’s case. Time was money in my racket.

Your hourly rate comes in under what I expected you to charge me, Stella said.

Well, I can go higher if you’d like, I said.

If you get me the pictures by the end of today, I’ll pay you a 10% bonus.

Make it a 25% bonus, and I’ll give it my best effort.

Stella laughed, a deep-throated outburst of humor. "You’re on. I want to hold the evidence in my hands and feel the joy and confidence of how I was right.