Prussian Blue: The District Detectives, #3

By J. Arens

"There's been a murder."…

 

Those four words are bad enough, but when the craftiest of the three mob bosses utters them in the District Detective office, they carry a whole new kind of weight.

 

Olivia Wainwright and Dallas Stowe are always prepared for the unexpected, but this announcement has them wondering what to do with the information given to them, and speculating why Razor would bring it to their attention...and in person.

 

A dead pharmacist, a crazy, spur-of-the-moment science experiment on a gut feeling and the detectives are whisked off into the wild world of prescription booze during the Prohibition.

 

A few more deaths by cyanide and the detectives are finally hot on the heels of what's going on around Big Town.

 

Someone is trying to horn in on Razor's moonshine business and nothing good will come from that. Can Olli and Dallas get to the bottom of who's behind the bid for Big Town's taste for moonshine before a full-fledged booze war comes to Big Town?

 

Pick up the exciting third installment of The District Detective Series!

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. Arens
• Release date: Sep 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798987800553

Book preview

Prussian Blue

J. Arens

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Big Town Publishing

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either

are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living

or dead, events or places are entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2023 by J. Arens

Cover Art by Med Foxx

Edited by The Crafty Quill Editing and Proofreading Service

[e-mail]

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be

reproduced or used in any manner without written permission

of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

First edition 2023

ISBN: 979-8-9878005-5-3 (ebook)

ISBN: 979-8-9878005-6-0 (paperback)

ISBN: 979-8-9878005-7-7 (hardcover)

Published by: Big Town Publishing

districtdetectives.com

Contents

Dedication

1.The One With The Perfect Crime

2.The One With The Unexpected Visitor

3.The One With The Murder

4.The One With The Pharmacy

5.The One With The Bitter Almonds

6.The One With The Cleaning Crew

7.The One With The Strange Meet

8.The One With The Prussian Blue

9.The One With The Constant Reminder

10.The One With The Split Up

11.The One With The Medical Examiner

12.The One With The Scolding

13.The One With The Strange Phone Call

14.The One With The Basement

15.The One With The Prescription

16.The One With The Newcomer

17.The One With The Hot Tip

18.The One With The Good Doctor

19.The One With The Big Puzzle

20.The One With The Second Doctor

21.The One With The District Trip

22.The One With The Hug

23.The One With The Chat With Razor

24.The One With The Escape

25.The One With The Make Up

26.The One With The Smell of The Chase

27.The One With The Missing Ladder

28.The One With The Mayday Call

29.The One With The Cheap Moonshine

30.The One With The Burning Ears

31.The One With The Best Competition

32.The One With The Train Tracks

33.The One With The Local Wine

34.The One With The Uncovered Mistake

35.The One With The Orchard

36.The One With The End

The One With The Review Reminder

The One With The Next Book

The One With The Other Books

Join The Big Town Mafia

The One With The Autho Bio

To: The wonderful writers, cast and crew of BBCs Death in Paradise

For creating such a wonderful show.

Specifically Season 1 Episode 3 Predicting Murder

One late night I caught the episode,

One scene sparked the whole premise of this book.

If you haven't seen the show, this is your nudge.

Highly suggest it.

Especially Season 1 Episode 3

Chapter 1

The One With The Perfect Crime

It seemed as if the day was dragging by. The phone had not rung in Wainwright Detective Agency’s District Detective office for nearly two hours. A bitter-sweet achievement considering the men that the occupants of the office were supposed to keep track of.

It made the day that much longer.

That also meant that half of the District Detectives were in a foul mood because paperwork couldn’t be put-off for something more exciting.

Dallas Stowe, the less grouchy half of the District Detectives, tossed the folded up paper onto his desk and rubbed his eyes.

Reporter, Anderson Paul, reports for Next Assignment:

Jail Time

It took up the whole front page.

There were a few pictures, one that a resourceful reporter managed to get of Dallas. Anderson handcuffed in front of him, being pushing through the throng and out of the bullpen at the paper.

Even now, almost a whole month later, Dallas felt a rush of pride. Pulling the reporter out of his desk chair and arresting him for his part in Olli’s kidnapping; and the panic that followed when Paul had published the news in the paper.

After waiting months to officially arrest the pesky reporter, the irony of the whole situation amused Dallas to no end.

Dallas stretched and caught up the handle of the steaming coffee mug, dangerously near the edge of his desk. He had only just refilled the mug a few minutes before, down on the second floor. For some reason, there wasn’t a single coffee pot on the third floor...and he had never gotten a good explanation for why. He gingerly took a sip of the hot liquid and looked across the room and slightly to his right at the other half of the District Detectives.

Olivia Wainwright was settled deep in her chair, her long legs up on her well-loved, scuffed desk. Grey pants-so dark they were nearly black-already stuffed into her nearly knee-high black boots. The laces were tucked in over the top edge and out of the way. The shirt that she wore today was a dark olive green, which pulled all the green out of her beautiful grey-green eyes. It was an unusual shirt for her wardrobe. Three-quarter sleeves that were tight to her arms. Normally she had large, billowy sleeves that went down to her wrists.

Dallas sipped his coffee again and looked over her forearms, all but shocked again at how strong her arms were. The large crease that ran down her forearm flexed slightly as she tapped her pen against her mouth; while she stared at the same report that she had sitting on her lap for the last ten minutes. Dallas took another half-swing of the coffee and set the mug down.

Must have been all the rusty fire escapes that she climbed, most at speed. Olli was the only person he had ever met that would have thought to allow themselves to be pulled out of a moving vehicle by their grip on the sides of a rusty ladder.

She was ready for a call. They hadn’t been out to The District, west of their office on the third floor office in WDA, since they had been back to work.

The danger of Prohibition and Organized crime called to her like a siren song. The pull of the rundown warehouses and tenement buildings on the other side of The Line was a constant presence for her. Olli relished the chance to cross into the most dangerous part of town, where Big Town’s citizens, police and average alike, never dared to think of going.

What she didn’t relish was paperwork.

Olli’s blue-green eyes wavered again from the report that was in her lap and slid over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that were to Dallas’ left.

Dallas could see her eyes skip ‌the clean-cut, respectable buildings that were close by and linger longingly on the ragged-edged buildings on the far side of The Line.

It was raining.

Again.

The sky was a light white-grey. Winter was reluctant to give up its grip on the skies over Big Town, and Spring was determined to muscle in anyway. The last two days, the buildings in Big Town had been drenched with a cold rain. Dark, waterlogged stone made the dirty buildings across The Line beautiful through the rain-streaked windows.

Beautiful in a haunted, derelict sort of way.

Dallas watched her stare out at the buildings that bemoaned Olli’s absence; and smiled to himself when she finally huffed a stiff sigh and looked back at the paperwork in her lap.

Olli switched which ankle crossed over the other and blinked like she was deliberately forcing herself to look at the page and read it again.

Dallas blindly fished into his top right-hand drawer and came out with the baseball that had kept him company while Olli had been missing for months. He would never admit it to her, but it still ate at him that Cross Bay Louie had managed to get so lucky as to just—snatch Olli off the street out from under their very noses. He tossed the baseball up and caught it with his left hand.

Olli ignored the movement, seemingly forcing attention to the report by sheer force of willpower.

All right, Fox. A soft warmth spread behind Dallas’ ribs as he heard his Southern drawl use the pet name that he had come up with on the fly during his stay with Cross Bay. He hoped it didn’t reach his neck or face.

Olli looked up from the file, and an eyebrow quirked in a silent question.

If you’re so smart- the baseball hefted into the air lightly and Dallas caught it with his right hand and pointed at Olli around the ball, How would you commit the perfect crime?

Olli watched him and smirked. The perfect crime? she repeated. She adjusted in her chair and twisted slightly so she was facing him more. Her hands folded over the file she wasn’t reading in her lap and tilted her head slightly, confusion coloring her movement.

Dallas caught the ball and raised an eyebrow. Yes. He spun the ball in his fingers and tossed it again.

I’d consider the perfect crime the kind of crime that one gets away with. Standard ‘perfect crime’ belief. She bobbed her head back and forth and held up a hand with a slight shrug. Her eyes lingered on his face for a moment, just shy of too long, before shifting slightly to his left and gazing out the windows and over the tops of the nearby buildings.

Dallas caught the ball again. He stretched almost too far and just barely saved himself. Trying to play off the near disaster, he closed his hand around his mug and took a sip of it carefully. He adjusted where the mug was on his desk and tossed the ball again. That’s not very sportin’ of you. he clicked his tongue.

Sporting?! Olli scoffed. She turned her head to look at him with her full attention again.

You know what I mean. Dallas tossed the baseball again and caught it. If you were going to commit a crime and get away with it, what would it be?

Why would I commit crime? Olli tilted an eyebrow at him.

Dallas caught the baseball and looked at her like he had never been so disappointed in her. Olli.

Dallas, Olli copied the tone that he had used, looking at him like she was pleased with herself.

Play the gaaaaame, Dallas hassled. Don’t be such a stick in the mud.

Aces! Olli looked at him, playfully insulted. I am hardly a stick in the mud. She looked down at herself and then gestured to her clothes. I usually get ridiculed for this, you know, she pointed out. You’ve been there. Her eyebrows rose, and she looked at him.

Dallas chuckled and huffed slightly. He had been there when a few people, from the police chief or the mayor had been less than impressed with what Olli had chosen to do with her life, much less the way that she chose to dress to do her chosen profession. I have, he agreed. But it’s just us.

Dallas. Olli rolled her eyes.

Dallas grinned. I know you have one, he coaxed. She was right about the way that most of Big Town’s residents thought of her clothes. If he was honest with himself, the only people who didn’t take issue with her dressing in pants and shirts, not to mention the black leather motorcycle jacket that she had, were her father and owner of WDA, Alan Wainwright and his partner Jake Bentley. Neither did her best friend, taxi service, and wheelman, Montana Dirks.

But her close friendship with an ex-moonshine runner was nearly as out of place as her pants, black leather jacket and boots. He was still unsure how he felt about the way that she dressed. There were some days that he missed that bias-cut polka dot dress that she had worn while they were with Cross Bay.

How? Olli challenged, her eyebrow dipping. How do you know that I have a crime in mind?

Dallas snorted and caught the baseball, though it nearly went too far behind his head. You’re part of the police force. You spend most of your time poring over known Mob connected paperwork, Fox. He tossed the baseball up and caught it again. I know you have one. Every cop I’ve ever known has thought about it at one time or another.

Olli watched the baseball travel up and down again before tossing the file on her desk. Moonshine.

Dallas spun the ball in his left hand and smirked at her. I knew it.

Olli tilted her eyebrow. Did you? she wondered, her tone dry. She tilted her head and folded her arms.

You have connections to that world, Dallas pointed out, pointing at her with the first finger of his right hand, still wrapped around his baseball.

Olli scoffed and rolled her eyes at Dallas’ elated tone. You mean I have Monte.

Dallas shrugged. And Razor. Dallas tossed the baseball and caught it again. Who apparently has a strange need to take care of you…? he looked at her and tilted his head. He rubbed his thumb over the bright red stitching on the baseball and then looked over at her and smirked. It makes total sense.

I wouldn’t work with Razor, Olli disagreed, pushing her hair over her shoulder.

Dallas smiled for a moment. She had been leaving her hair loose, or mostly loose, for the past few weeks. Which meant that he got to enjoy the milk chocolate brown color of her hair. The small, feminine gesture had warmed Dallas at first, and still made him happy. The white-grey light bounced off the caramel streaks that stirred through the rest of her hair.

Dallas loved the range of streaked colors. Deep brown to very nearly blonde.

Today she had pinned up only about half of her hair. His eyes traced over and around the artful knot and he wondered for a moment where on earth Olli had learned to do it? Why not? he managed to spit out, just before it was too long of a pause.

Olli tilted her head and shifted in her chair. I’m not interested in anyone owning me.

Fair enough, Dallas allowed, tossing the ball and catching it again. So, what would you do?

I’d bring my own supply in and store it somewhere no one would think to look for it and then distribute it from there. Olli shrugged.

Dallas spun the ball in his fingers and looked at her. There. Clear as mud.

Olli scoffed.

Where’d you put it? Dallas tried again.

Under a church. Olli looked at him and shrugged. Her tone indicating that she thought it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Chapter 2

The One With The Unexpected Visitor

Dallas nearly missed the baseball because it nearly went too far behind his head. I’m sorry a...a-a what? he stammered.

No one’s going to think to look there, Olli pointed out.

That’s because it’s absolutely ludicrous, Dallas returned, shifting the baseball in his hands, looking at her like she had grown two heads.

It is not. Olli shook her head. If not in the basement, then somewhere on the grounds and have...I don’t know...the groundskeeper in on it, or pay them off.

Dallas raised his eyebrows.

You said a perfect crime. Olli pointed at him. Which we’ve already defined as the crime one doesn’t get caught for.

Dallas held up a hand and shook his head a little. A church, Olli? he wondered, half skeptical, his tone almost disappointed in her.

I have a good reason! Olli protested.

Dallas looked at her for a moment and one eyebrow went up. Come again? he tilted his head. You have a good reason for doin’ that kind of business on sacred ground? he wondered skeptically.

Olli nodded. Yes.

All right. Let’s hear it. Dallas looked at her and tilted his head.

Olli pulled her head back a little. No disrespect to the church. But the church is exempt from Prohibition Law. They can have wine for the sacraments.

Dallas stared at her for a moment. Do you hear yourself?

I didn’t say that I would! Olli’s voice cracked slightly. Or that I actually think it’s a good idea. Just pointing out it’s a good place to hide things in plain sight. She shook her head a little. Aces, Dallas. I’m a good person!

I know. It’s just a game. Dallas chuckled and tossed the baseball up and caught it. You obviously wouldn’t have a speakeasy on church grounds, that would be—

Conspicuous? Olli offered.

Conspicuous, Dallas agreed. So, how would you distribute it?

Olli shrugged. It wouldn’t be all that hard.

No?

No. There are hard drinkers everywhere. She shrugged. It wouldn’t be hard to go to The Phoenix and make some friends.

Dallas tossed the baseball up and caught it again. Let’s put a pin in that thought for a moment. He twisted the ball between his hands again and then tossed and caught it. How exactly is it that everyone in Big Town knows about The Phoenix, and yet it’s still operatin’ in the same spot?

Olli looked at him shrewdly. Because every time it’s been raided, no one runs.

But no one ever gets arrested! Dallas protested.

Ahhhhhhh. The brilliance of Razor is on full display. Olli smirked and rolled her eyes. All anyone is ever drinking is coffee, tea, or water.

Can’t exactly arrest anyone for that, Dallas muttered. But surely there’s a bar top.

There is. With coffee brewing and tea steeping.

The baseball made a light smacking sound as Dallas tossed and caught it a couple of times while he pondered what she had said.

Not one for long silences, Olli piped up again: I heard one time that the officers that were on the raid were handed a cup of freshly brewed coffee on the house as they came through the door. Highly unlikely but… panic flashed across her face as she stretched backwards in her tall black leather chair and nearly tipped past the point of no return.

And what part of that would be the unlikely part? Dallas wondered, tilting his head. The fresh brewed coffee round? The fact that it was on the house-?

Oh. Razor is very generous. Olli shifted her feet on her desk. I just find it hard to believe that as officers were running in the door, someone was standing there handing out coffee. And that they took it on the way in.

Ah yes. Dallas tossed the ball and caught it again. That is the least believable of what you just told me.

Olli snorted and watched the ball go up and down again. She held out her hands in an inviting gesture.

Dallas caught the movement and lightly tossed the ball in her direction. How? he wondered, grinning proudly when she caught the ball. How is that even possible?

Olli’s eyes flared. That’s Razor for you. Always obnoxiously prepared. She caught the ball and tossed it back to Dallas lightly.

Dallas caught the ball with his left hand and spun it in his palm. Thought the raids were supposed to be secret.

Olli stretched as far as her desk would allow her to the right and was pleased that she caught the ball. They are. Birdie told me once that she thought that there was someone on the inside. But she had never been able to figure out who.

It’s the only way that he could do it, Dallas agreed, tossing the ball lightly to himself before sending it Olli’s way again.

Olli nodded and caught the ball. That’s the most frustrating thing about it. She inspected a couple of the laces closely and then lobbed the ball back toward Dallas.

You can’t confirm it.

Olli shook her head as she snagged the ball just before it hit her mug of coffee. Oh no. He told me he did when I asked him. She shook her head and rolled her eyes.

You accused the owner of a well-known illegal speakeasy of havin’ a man on the inside. And he confirmed it? Dallas’ skeptical tone matched the way his eyebrows shot up. I don’t suppose he felt generous enough to give you a name…?

Olli shook her head. No. And, truth be told, to this day we still haven’t got a clue who it is. She shrugged and tossed the baseball back toward him as soon as she caught it. We changed times, days, who was on the raids, who knew about the raids…

And no luck.

Olli huffed. I think Harrison lost a year or two off his life from the stress of it all.

And still nothin’. Dallas shot out of his seat slightly to make sure that he caught the ball.

Olli shook her head and her shoulders bounced in a half shrug. Not even a hint, she inspected the baseball after catching it. But that’s Razor for you. Always two or three steps ahead of where you think he should be.

Is that the melodious rise and fall of the voice of my favorite District Detective praising my genius?

Olli’s feet slammed to the floor so hard there was a dull, echoing noise. Her chair creaked as she turned to wildly look at the door, slightly behind her and to her right.

Three files fluttered to the floor, completely unnoticed.

Dallas felt his neck pop as he wrenched around to look at the doorway, to see who had addressed them.

The man who spoke stood just inside the doorway of the office, he was in the process of pulling his black fedora off his head. His eyes roved around the office like he was appraising the value of everything where it stood and evaluating how useful it was in the current locations.

Black knee-length coat closed tightly still despite the fact that he had walked up three flights of stairs. A bright red scarf poked out of the top of the coat, the only splash of color in his otherwise black garb.

Though somehow not gaudy. Black wingtips polished within an inch of their lives completed the look of Big Town’s most conniving and cunning crime boss.

Anthony Razor DeLuka. Head of the DeLuka crime family, and the one that was responsible for the second front that had come in to rescue Olli and Dallas a few months before. He had been an unexpected appearance, to the kidnapped detectives, and Alan Wainwright, who had originally gone to meet Cross Bay to trade himself for them. Therefore, giving Cross Bay what he wanted after months of emotional and mental turmoil that his two best detectives, one of them Alan’s daughter.

It had been rough on all three of them.

Olli still blamed herself on-an-off for being caught off guard and allowing herself to be taken. Stating loudly on the bad days that she considered herself better than that, and how she couldn’t believe that she had allowed herself to be caught unawares. Though she never once blamed anyone for the event.

Dallas sometimes would quietly mention his frustration that he wasn’t able to find Olli. Or make a self depreciating joke about being jumped in an alley, though the joking didn’t ever seem to reach his eyes.

Alan stubbornly wouldn’t talk about it after the trial. And the first few weeks, he and Olli clashed multiple times over how often she was allowed to come to work, or go home, without someone with her.

Things had finally gotten back to normal just a handful of weeks ago.

Olli stared at him for a moment and blinked slowly. What? she squeaked, her voice cracking.

Razor? Dee, holographic secretary extraordinaire of The District Detective office, materialized next to the black leather armchair facing Olli’s desk that was closest to the door and placed one hand on top of the back of the chair while the other settled onto her hip. What are you doing here? Her image fizzled for a second but came back on strong almost instantly again.

Razor’s attention turned to the newest addition to the room, and his eyes lit up. Absolutely extraordinary, he breathed, looking Dee over.

Dee tilted her head