Greenville, Dynasty of the North Woods

By Terri Dixon

Edwoena Carrington, of the Las Vegas Carringtons, is a vice cop, thrown into the case of a lifetime when a mysterious man, known as Mark Twain by the prostitutes he hires, begins killing the girls. Is he a modern day Jack the Ripper? Where does he come from?
Quickly, Eddie and her ex boyfriend, Homicide Detective Bart Schultz, establish the man's true identity; Mark Swain III of one of the most wealthy families in Maine. The game begins with her traveling to Maine, where she discovers her mother was born. She meets relatives while in town to extradite Swain to Las Vegas for questioning, and the secrets continue to unfold.
Greenville, Maine is the quirky town she must learn to navigate. It's run by timber barons, it's full of moose, and there are Swain family secrets galore. Eddie eventually discovers, not only is she from local stock, but she's part of the Swain family timber dynasty as she is Mark Swain III's half sister.
Enacting an arrest warrant becomes a labyrinth of interdepartmental red tape as the murders continue. Wealth, mileage from the Canadian Border, personal and professional loyalties continually delay what should have been a simple arrest.
As Eddie Carrington deciphers more and more about the crimes and the man who commits them, her world turns upside down, leaving her the lone recipient of their father's estate and the only person who can deal with the now life and death situation created by the timber magnate in the north woods of Maine in a bizarre little town called Greenville.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Terri Dixon
• Release date: Jun 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215062418

Terri Dixon

Terri Dixon is the well traveled internet writer, blogger, and photographer; Nina Kindred. Nina has been writing stories on Fictionpress for nearly 20 years. She has been writing her travel blog, Adventures for Anyone on blogger for over 10 years. She sells her photography at her shops Artistic Creations by Nina Kindred on Cafepress and Imagings on Zazzle. She also has a gallery on Fine Art America. The Ring of the Queen is her first full length novel, and is Book I of The Lost Tsar Trilogy. The Queen in Exile, is Book II of The Lost Tsar Trilogy. Catherine III, The Lost Tsar Trilogy Book III in which the battle for Russia is at last decided. The Destiny Dream is Terri's stand alone novel about the adventures of a young woman who is trying not to believe that her recurring dream is a view into her future. The Terrorist's Game Level 1 is the story of Talia Anderson and her international adventures. Greenville, Dynasty of the North Woods, a thriller that takes place in the wilds of northern Maine has arrived here! It's one of my most popular stories. Even the reviewers love it! New on Amazon is "Bourbon," the second Every Woman has a Story who's taking on Manhattan and her dysfunctional family through trials and tribulations. On Amazon and Kindle is "Alice" who is making her way humorously through a mid life crisis. Terri is a journalist who never completely took to the trade. She has a day job, a night job, and many hobbies including travel, hiking, cooking, and recently kayaking. She lives in the northwest hills of Connecticut with her husband and their temperamental kitty, while her son pursues his dreams in professional auto racing.

Book preview

Part One

-Mark Twain-

"That’s a dead hooker, all right," Detective Bart Schulz said, as he stood over the partially pulled out drawer in the morgue at the coroner’s office.

Officer Edwoena Carrington sometimes wondered how she'd allowed herself to become a vice detective or even a cop. She was a beautiful blonde bombshell who could've become a model, actress, successful gold-digger, playboy bunny, or anything besides a police detective. She could've spent her time being ogled by rich men instead of enduring the sarcasm and hard heartedness of the local tough boys on the force.

Eddie had felt compelled to not follow in the footsteps of her showgirl mother and all the heartache that came with it, so she’d chosen a completely different life. Every time she had to identify or investigate a dead body, she reconsidered her choice.

Her name is Chenille, Eddie snapped at the detective. She has a name. Where did you find her?

Detective Schulz heaved a heavy sigh. He’d worked with Eddie for a few years, and was aware of how emotional she got when something of that nature happened. Eddie had been a vice cop for seven years, and she’d become far too attached to some of the girls she worked with. Their Captain, retired Navy Seal and another tough guy, Horace Clayton thought allowing a female detective to work a vice beat would bring more useful information when there were serious crimes committed in a world which typically only produced decriminalized offenses.

I hate to give you details on these things, because I know how you get, Bart groaned.

How about a cause of death? Eddie demanded. Maybe a time of death? Anything? I have to tell Madame Wu something!

The coroner tried to stand silently, because arguments between the two police officers never went well. It was a well-known fact Bart and Eddie were once an item, and it hadn't ended well. They could barely be civil to one another on the job on the occasional case where they crossed paths. They’d both been arrested for arguing in restaurants on the strip during their time off, to the point of breach of peace and the occasional broken item for which they had to pay. Their relationship was designed, carried out, and finished in hell. Two more different people had probably never attempted an intimate relationship.

Officer Carrington, the time of death was around midnight, the coroner said. She drowned. They found her in a dumpster behind Terrible’s Casino. I’m very sorry. It seems as though she was a friend of yours.

Thank you, Jose, Eddie replied. She turned to Bart. Was that so hard?

Eddie stared at the girl lying on a cold slab in a metal drawer extended from a wall of such drawers. It was clinical, impersonal, and cold. It was both emotionally and physically cold as she shivered in the virtually refrigerated city morgue of Las Vegas, Nevada.

Chenille was young. Eddie hadn’t known her long. Chenille had worked for Madame Wu for only a few months. She couldn’t have been more than 21 years old. Madame Wu wouldn’t have hired her if she was younger. Madame Wu had standards in a business that rarely had any standards or rules. All the girls at Madame Wu’s had fake names. Eddie hadn’t known Chenille long enough to even know her real name. She hoped Madame Wu would know how to contact a next of kin. Eddie hated when such things happened, but it sometimes got a little wild and shady in Vegas.

Eddie and Bart walked out of the morgue together. Eddie needed some air. She hated the smell of death that lingered constantly in the morgue. Death felt like a disease to her, and she couldn't tolerate the morgue for long because of it.

Eddie had to determine what to tell Madame Wu and her girls. Chenille, or whatever her name, was the second girl murdered in three weeks. She hoped the incidents weren’t related. The other girl went by the name of Queenie, and she'd been strangled and left in a parking garage just off Fremont Street. The two girls looked nothing alike and had categorically different personalities. Logic and profiling dictated their clientele should also have been different. There was a good chance the two incidents were unrelated.

Would you like me to go with you to tell Madame Wu? Bart asked.

No, she doesn’t like you, Eddie snapped.

You know, I’m just trying to help! Bart exclaimed. I hate it when you pull this independent, ain’t needin’ nobody bullshit. Why don’t you accept a little help once in a while?

Eddie turned to face him. Look, I appreciate your trying to help. I really do. I'm serious about Madame Wu not liking you. She did nothing but complain the whole time we dated. I don’t know why she doesn’t like you, but she really doesn’t.

Maybe it’s because she’s a whore, Bart snapped. I mean really, if this was any place else in the country, all those chicks would be in jail, and Madame Wu would be out of business forever.

There goes that sanctimonious attitude again, Eddie snapped. She walked to her car. Bart followed, and she continued to lecture him. Prostitution is decriminalized here. Deal with it. We turn a blind eye as long as they don't walk the streets! It’s every woman’s right to decide what she does with her body! Pia's girls sell it. That’s their prerogative. Why can’t you accept it? If you think you're too good for them, don't go there.

Bart smiled as he stopped behind her at her lime green 1968 VW Beetle. She’d had the car since he’d met her at least. She refused to buy anything else. She’d had the Beetle custom painted so she wouldn’t lose it in parking garages and mall lots. He’d told her a thousand times the cars were death traps, and she should buy something safer, but she didn’t care. She continually reminded him it was her choice, and she didn't have to listen to a word he said. She told him it was none of his business. It was the only car she’d ever had, and she professed she'd keep it until the day she died.

I can accept it. It doesn’t mean I have to like it, Bart protested. A woman’s body should be worshipped, not exploited. Is that such a bad belief? Why does my ideal that women should be respected make me a bad guy?

Eddie looked him in the eye. Your ideals aren't bad. It just doesn’t give you the right to tell everyone else what to do.

With that, she got into her old Beetle and took off, leaving Bart and his ideals alone on the sidewalk.

Eddie drove directly to the luxury home that wasn't what it appeared to be on Red Oak Avenue. Not far from other less than sophisticated venues, the home of Madame Wu looked like a house that should belong to a millionaire. Madame Wu said it gave the clients a feeling of privacy and comfort. Madame Wu also had off street parking in the rear, protecting clients from accidental discovery.

Eddie dear, Madame Wu greeted her as she walked in the door. Jasmine is almost ready. She told me to tell you she would be right down.

Eddie slapped her forehead with the butt of her palm. She forgot she and her best friend, Helen, AKA Jasmine, were flying that afternoon. They had their private pilot’s licenses and went flying regularly to gain enough hours to carry paying passengers. The two girls put in flying hours to upgrade their licenses and saved their money to start a flight seeing business of their own. They had a business plan worked out to the tiniest detail. They planned offerings of fly overs above the strip, Lake Meade, Hoover Dam, and the Grand Canyon. They also had a long list of custom trips to offer. It was Eddie and Helen’s dream to fly for a living and own their own business.

What is it, dear? Madam Wu asked.

Eddie hated to bring the kindly old Madame bad news. I forgot about flying. That’s not why I’m here. I’m afraid I have bad news about Chenille.

Madame Wu nearly fell onto a chaise. Oh no. I hoped, when she didn't return, she had run off and gotten married. I guess that is not where she has been.

No, they found her a little while ago. She was murdered. I’m so sorry, Eddie told her. It occurred to Eddie Madame Wu knew the girl was missing. She’d just said so. What do you mean, you hoped she’d run off and got married? Did you know she was missing? Damn it, Pia, how many times do I have to tell you! If there's something wrong, call me!

What’s going on? Helen, aka Jasmine, asked as she entered the room.

Helen was Eddie’s best friend and currently an employee of Madame Wu’s Club. She was roughly Eddie’s age. Eddie was soon turning 30. Helen wasn't a young girl for the business, but only 28. She was an attractive woman. Muscular build with long dark hair and green eyes. Eddie arrested Helen six years before for working the streets, and afterward gotten her a far more accepted and safer job with Madame Wu. The gray area between crime and accepted practice which Madame Wu provided typically weeded out most of the scumbags.

Eddie and Helen had so much in common they became fast friends. They hung out together all the time. The two talked about their wildest dreams constantly and eventually happened on the idea to get into the flight seeing business. Currently, they spent all their spare time working toward that end.

They found Chenille in a dumpster behind Terrible’s, Eddie told Helen.

Helen shook her head. She was a nice girl. That’s all I have to say about that. Let’s go flying. I need to do something positive.

Eddie decided whatever she could find out from Madame Wu would wait for a couple of hours. She could see by the look on Helen’s face she needed to get away for a little while before dealing with Chenille's death.

Flying was therapy for both Helen and Eddie. It was the one place they could both get away from it all and clear their minds. Chenille being the second recent murder didn't set well with either woman, and it didn't matter which one was on what side of the law. Being a hooker doesn't mean you should die. Jack the Ripper was a long time ago.

Two hours later, after some great air time, the two women landed and shut down their engines. They all but ran to the drink machine in the hangar they rented flight time out of at Boulder City Airport, and downed a bottle of water apiece. It was a very hot summer day in the desert, and there wasn’t enough water ever.

Eddie couldn’t decide whether to drink the water or pour it over her head. She loved to fly, and she loved to fly small planes, but air conditioning options on Cessnas left something to be desired. No matter how little clothing she wore, Eddie ended up sweating like a pig while flying tiny Cessna four seaters.

The women sat on the shaded cement floor of the hangar and caught their breath. After a few minutes, Helen looked at Eddie. What happened to Chenille? Was she strangled like Queenie?

No, she drowned, Eddie replied.

Helen looked at her wide eyed. She drowned in a dumpster behind Terrible’s? Sounds like the place has a water problem. Do you know anything else? Because that’s absurd.

I don’t have much, Eddie replied. I hoped Pia could shed some light on it, but she’s still keeping things from me. That won’t help. I hope the two aren’t connected. I want you to get out of Madame Wu's. It's less safe than normal these days.

Two more months and we’ll be in business, Helen told her. That very moment, I will quit.

Yeah, well do me a favor, Eddie started.

What? Helen asked.

Don’t go out for a while. Work at the club until I get a bearing on this sicko. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, she told Helen. I don’t make friends often. I’d like to keep you around.

Helen’s expression softened. Okay, I promise. Damn, you don’t judge me for being a hooker, and you still give me guilt trips. That’s amazing.

Whatever, come on. Let’s go back to the club and see if Pia knows anything about Chenille’s last date, Eddie said.

You won’t like it, Helen warned her.

You know something? Give, Eddie ordered her.

You won’t like it, Helen replied.

Dish.

I was there when Chenille left last night. She's such a blonde. She was going to meet her future husband she said. He was the perfect man. He was rich, smart, good looking, and best of all, didn’t come from Vegas.

Sounds typical, Eddie noted. Only in Vegas are the Johns rich and good looking.

Anyway, she said she was going to meet him, and she hoped she wouldn’t be back. Chenille didn't like the business. I’m not sure what she expected. She seemed like she was looking for Prince Charming in our world. Hopeless.

That’s why Pia hoped she’d run off and gotten married, Eddie commented.

I suppose, Helen agreed.

That’s all you know? Eddie asked. That’s not much.

She called him Mark Twain, Helen said.

Eddie stared at Helen for a moment and processed what she'd been told. So, I’m looking for a guy who drowned a hooker in the desert and calls himself Mark Twain? Great.

Greenville

(Dynasty of the North Woods)

Part Two

-A Night in Vegas-

Helen and Eddie returned to Madame Wu’s Gentlemen’s Club as things began to busy up for the night. It was almost sunset on the strip, which was when Vegas historically came to life. Madame Wu’s Gentlemen's Club was the nicest whore house in the area. Whore house was a name Eddie disliked, but the options were whore house, bordello, brothel, bagnio, cat house, house of ill repute, or house of prostitution. There wasn't a truly classy name for it, so whore house worked fine. Madame Wu and her girls were watched closely by the local authorities, and Eddie Carrington had been their personal vice cop for the last five years. She knew the girls well, and she didn’t judge them on their choice of profession. She’d befriended several of them over the years, and was sometimes more like a mother hen than a cop.

There were 20 girls working for Madame Wu at any given time. There were always several girls ready to take the place of one of the girls when they quit or got married. Several of the girls met and married their dream men while working for the madame. However, they rarely, if ever, met their dream man at work. Pia Wu was known all over the area as a good and caring woman to work for in a business that normally carries a rough reputation. She looked out for her girls and even paid for several of their weddings over the years. She never wanted anything but the best for her girls. It weighed heavily on her when one of her girls came to harm. She reminded Eddie when bad things happened that she would never knowingly allow any of it to go on. She was a lover not a fighter, and she cared deeply about the welfare of her girls.

Eddie knew Pia’s everlasting sense of romance caused her to turn a blind eye to the bad things and bad people in life. Her romantic notions caused her to continually view life through the proverbial rose-colored glasses. She didn’t wish to see the bad in anyone. She didn’t want to believe people did bad things. Somewhere in the aging mind of a rough and tumble madame lurked hopes and dreams of perfect love and prince charming.

When Helen and Eddie entered the parlor, Madame Wu was in full wild west regalia. She looked like a can can girl from the 1800’s. She leaned over her wild west piano player as he played hundred-year-old tunes on the piano and the guests sang along. The girls in their chic Vegas night out on the town garb danced for the guests, as they chose their date for the evening. There were already several girls missing who'd either answered a call to another location or had left with their dates for the night.

Madame Wu smiled at Helen and Eddie when they walked in. Come join us girls! It’s happy hour!

Helen went upstairs to change for work. Eddie smiled at Madame Wu. Sorry, I already have plans. She motioned for Pia to follow her. Can I speak with you for just one minute before I go?

Madame Wu made an elegant exit from the party and followed Eddie into the hall. What is it, dear?

You know I'd never interfere with business, Eddie said. I believe in private enterprise. I’ve never judged any of this, you know that. What a girl does with her body is her business.

Eddie, you are babbling, Pia told her.

Eddie took a deep breath. There could be a dangerous predator out there. He seems to like your girls. Whoever he is, he's a killer, and I haven't figured out his MO yet. Please keep a closer eye on the girls. Make their dates come and pick them up or stay here for the evening until I find out more about this. Get a name when they go out. Get a look at the men so you can describe them to me. I don't want to snag anyone for hiring a girl. I want to find the one who kills. I need to get this murderer off the streets, before he kills anyone else.

Eddie, dear, my customers do not always like their business to be well known, Pia explained. That is why we are also called call girls. I do not know how much information I can gather for you. Being nosey could ruin my business.

It’s only temporary, Eddie pleaded. Means to an end.

Fifty percent of my business or more, never come to the club. They desire total anonymity. This could cost me a fortune. I have a business to run, Pia argued.

What about Chenille? Eddie asked. You do realize she said she was going to meet Mark Twain? I can’t run around looking for some guy named after a writer from 150 years ago. I’ll sound like an idiot. I need more information. Please help me.

I understand, but I do not want to ruin this place either. That was not his name, by the way, Pia said. I do not remember exactly what his name was, but it did sound like Mark Twain.

You mean it’s not an alias? Eddie asked. I thought the man in question just made it up.

No, it sounded like Mark Twain. Chenille was reading ‘Huck Finn,' so it was in her head. Pia rolled her eyes. Chenille was not the brightest bulb in the lamp, as you say, but she had a good heart. I wish I could remember what the man’s name was, but I cannot recall exactly.

Did you see him? Eddie asked.

No. He has called before a few times. He is fairly routine. He is from out of town and visits monthly. He calls for a girl when he is in town, but I rarely speak with him personally. He asks for the girls directly by name. That is why I cannot remember his name.

Does he pay with a credit card, Venmo, Pay Pal, or Apple Pay? Is there anything digital I could trace? Do you have a phone number? Anything would help. I promise, I won't allow anything to interfere with business unless I have to. The information you give me won't be used in any vice cases. This is a homicide investigation.

He always pays cash. I do not have a phone number. His calls come up on caller ID as out of area. He pulls up out front and honks the horn like a high school boy. I wish I knew more about him, but he really does not want anyone to know his business. He is extremely private. I have only even heard his name in passing when the girls speak of him, or I would not even know it sounds like Mark Twain.

How long has he been calling and picking up girls? Eddie asked. Has he ever taken a girl out more than once?

He has been calling, maybe six months. He has never seen a girl more than twice, Pia replied.

Pia, if you think of the man’s name or anything, please let me know. You have my number. I hate to say it, but you have to be more careful. Make sure nothing happens to Helen and the other girls. I have to go downtown and do some work on this. I'll let you know when I find something out.

Eddie drove her lime green Beetle to the station, and found Bart staring at a computer screen at his desk in the dark. Most of the detectives had gone home for the night or were out in the field investigating other cases.

Eddie hated Bart and liked Bart. He was a good cop, but a lousy boyfriend. He was too tough to date. He wasn’t abusive, he was just tough. Getting him to show an emotion besides macho or anger was impossible. Eddie had to dump him, because he was too emotionally unavailable. She needed someone she could share her life with. She needed a true partner, who could listen when she talked and understand her. Bart was closed off to everything but police work.

Eddie walked up behind Bart at his desk. Mark Twain.

Bart looked over the top of his reading glasses at her. What?

That, believe it or not, is the closest thing I can find to a name for the man who took Chenille out last night, Eddie told him. Madame Wu says his name sounds something like that, but she can’t remember what exactly his name is. Chenille called him Mark Twain.

Bart stared at the most frustrating woman he’d ever met and tried to decide what to say. Well, that’s just great, because she drowned in non-chlorinated water. He didn't even use a pool.

Eddie sighed and closed her eyes momentarily. Let me guess. The guy was probably not staying anywhere in the neighborhood, so we have no idea where to look for records of his stay in Vegas. For all we know, he could have been staying on a boat on Lake Mead and dumped her off when he was through.

Exactly, Bart replied.

Any clue if he was the same one who killed Queenie? Eddie asked. Any DNA matches?

No DNA other than the victims' was recovered from the scenes at all, Bart replied.

So, there's nothing to connect Queenie's death to Chenille's? Eddie asked.

I double checked the evidence, Bart explained. I don’t have a single repeat bit of evidence. I don't have much evidence in either case at all. Did Queenie say she was going out with Mark Twain when she left?

Eddie sat down at the desk next to Bart's. No. Not even Madame Wu knew where Queenie went or with whom. She thought Queenie went out for the night for fun, not work. For all I know, she wasn’t even working when she was killed. It could be a completely different sicko.

Bart knew the look that currently resided on Eddie’s face. What do you really think? I can tell you’ve got something on your mind.

I feel stupid, Eddie said.

Why? Bart asked.

I can’t shake the feeling these two murders are connected, Eddie said. I can't explain it. There's absolutely no clue, no evidence, and no reason for me to think that. They appear to be two completely isolated incidents. It's the same guy, Bart. I just know it. He’s gonna strike again. I’m scared he’s gonna hurt someone I care about even more. That could've been Helen.

Bart hated to broach subjects with Eddie that he knew she didn’t like to talk about, but he felt he had to. I know you don't want to hear this, but I think you should put in for a transfer to another department. I think you're too close to the girls in the house to be objective. You can’t be a good cop when you’re too close to the situation.

Eddie completely ignored Bart. So, you don’t think it’s the same guy?

I don’t know, Bart groaned. What I do know is you’re too close to them. If something happens to one of those whores, and you miss something, you’ll blame yourself for the rest of your life. You’re too close, and it’s gonna make you drive yourself crazy.

Eddie smiled at Bart. He rarely showed concern. I’m not saying you’re wrong, but for right now, I want to find out who’s killing Madame Wu’s girls. Is there anything we can do?

I can get the records from all the hotels in town, I suppose, Bart snarked. There couldn’t be more than 50,000 to 100,000 people who stayed in a hotel in Vegas last night. It’s the only thing I can do. If his name sounds like Mark Twain, maybe we can find a suspect or two.

Eddie flashed the baby blue eyes that Bart couldn’t resist at him. I’ll help you look through them.

You’re crazy, you know that, Bart said. It'd take forever to look through every guest log in every system in Las Vegas, especially if it was just for one night. He saw the look of earnest on Eddie's face. I’ll get into the chamber of commerce files and pull up the registries from the hotels. At least they're centralized, but I can't promise anything.

Before they knew it, sunlight sprawled across the main office area of the Las Vegas Police Department’s main building as the sun rose above the sandy mountains at the edge of the valley. A new day had begun in Vegas and most people were still in bed. Eddie and Bart were poring over guest registries from every hotel in town and had found nothing. Around them, desks sat covered with coffee cups and Red Bull cans they’d emptied throughout the night, trying to stay awake and find something of use in the murder case of Chenille.

That’s it, Bart said. Either we missed it, or he didn’t stay in a hotel in Vegas.

How about flight records? Eddie suggested.

If he was rich, he may have brought his own plane, Bart countered.

Then we should check the records at North Vegas instead of McCarran, Eddie persisted.

Eddie’s phone rang. She answered it. Bart watched Eddie’s face go white. She hung up the phone. Helen didn’t listen to me. She went out last night to meet a client. That was Madame Wu. Helen didn’t come back.

Bart knew Helen was Eddie’s best friend and this would put her in a tail spin. Did she say anything about the Mark Twain guy?

No, she said Helen was meeting a man who was in a hurry, because his plane was due to leave last night, Eddie told him. That’s why she’s really worried she hasn’t come back yet. Tears welled up in her eyes. Bart, I can’t think right now. Do something. Please.

Did she say where she was going? Bart asked.

She said she was going to the strip, Eddie answered.

That doesn’t help. Look, I’ll call both airports and get passenger lists, Bart offered. His phone rang. He answered it, didn’t say much, and ended the call.

Eddie looked at him. What? It’s not…

Eddie, I’m sorry, Bart said. They found a call girl that everyone says is named Jasmine at Circus Circus.

Greenville

(Dynasty of the North Woods)

Part Three

-Golden Girl-

Bart and Eddie arrived at the presidential suite at Circus, Circus a few minutes later. There were people everywhere. There were hotel employees in the hall speaking with police, and several more officers in the room. There were representatives of the coroner’s office. There were local reporters in the hall, trying to get a glimpse of the crime scene around the officers guarding the entrance. Eddie didn’t want to see what happened to Helen. She supposed it could have been another call girl who went by Jasmine, but her gut told her it wasn't.

Eddie was a complex woman. Sensitive, but tough. Conservative, yet impulsive. Steady, but unpredictable at times. She wasn’t sure how she'd react at that crime scene, but she knew she had to help with the case, or more of her