Killing the Royals

By Gary Resnikoff

Devastated by the loss of his wife to cancer, Al is looking for a way to deal with his grief. Once an advanced-level pickleball player, he hopes moving to a new town and returning to the game he loves will help him recover. With his loyal dog, Butch, along for the ride, Al heads to Rio Viejo, a small town on the Mexican border with a growing pickleball community.

All is well in Al’s new life until players start dropping dead all around him. The local sheriff and his cohort, a retired homicide detective, are stymied by the sudden crime wave and quickly set their sights on the newest resident.

As he tries to reclaim his life and his love for pickleball, Al must discover who is killing his new friends and why.

This book has 26 pickleball tips that will help players from novice to experienced. The characters are sure to hit home for anyone familiar with the game. And for those new to the game, Killing the Royals will soon become all too familiar.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gary Resnikoff
• Release date: Jul 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798392581740

Gary Resnikoff

Gary was born in Los Angeles in the early '50s and has lived in CA, CO, AZ, and Mexico. Recently, he moved to Port Hueneme, Ca with his wife and Poncho, a rescue dog from the beach in Mexico. He has had a diverse career in both the internet and solar industries as an entrepreneur and pioneer in each. He is still very passionate about the environment and a big proponent of solar and wind power. Now in retirement from business, he spends his time playing pickleball, building things (functional art) out of mesquite, and now trying his hand at mosaics. He wrote and self-published his first novel All In A Day's Work and is currently working on a pickleball murder mystery that with any luck will be out in 2022. There is also a sequel to All In A Day's Work planned for 2023. In 2019 he was diagnosed with 2 forms of cancer and after chemo, radiation and surgery have been in remission for over 2 years. If you enjoy his books please leave a positive review on Smashwords or Amazon.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Like most people, I hadn’t been out much the past year. Between my wife battling and finally losing to cancer and COVID scaring the crap out of just about everyone, I really didn’t have any desire to interact with other humans. I had Butch, my 80-pound bundle of fur and muscle to walk and talk to, and I had Netflix, Hulu, YouTube, Peacock, and Prime to entertain me. But I missed pickleball. This was going to be the first time in a year that I even walked by the courts.

A block before I arrived at the Gates Tennis Center in Cherry Creek, Colorado, I could hear it, the popping sound of balls against paddles and the raucous laughter from the players. Even though I wasn’t planning on playing today, I could feel and taste the adrenaline. When I rounded the corner and saw all twelve courts full, and a crowd milling about waiting to play, I was both excited and dismayed. The last time I played here there couldn’t have been more than five courts full at a time. I approached the waiting area filled with benches and tables, flabbergasted by what I was seeing.

Al, I heard my name called, Over here.

I turned around to see a man I vaguely knew from playing here in the past running over to me.

It’s me, Robert. Don’t you remember me?

Of course I do, I said, although I hadn’t remembered his name, How are you?

I’m good, buddy. Haven’t seen you here in ages. Have you been playing somewhere else?

No, I took some time off.

Oh. Yeah. I remember hearing you lost your wife. Sorry.

Thanks. Maybe he didn’t remember, but my last encounter with Robert wasn’t all that pleasant. Robert had a reputation for arguing line calls that didn’t go his way, and I had been distraught dealing with Stephanie’s cancer and was in no mood for Robert’s antics. When he called me out on a call, I lost my composure, and we almost came to blows. Probably would have if not for our playing partners pulling us apart. I left that day and hadn’t been back until now.

Have you been playing?

Nope. I just haven’t been very interested in playing since Stephanie died.

He nodded, Understandable. We were quiet for a few minutes, watching the games all around us.

Sure are a lot more people since the last time I was here. I don’t even recognize most of the faces.

Yeah, man. It’s crazy. New people keep coming out every day. The old gang you used to play with now come real early and are out of here before the crowd arrives. It’s like this every day. You play a game and then have to sit out fifteen minutes before you can get back on a court. It sucks.

I’ve been reading it’s the fastest growing sport in the country. Looks like they weren’t wrong.

Well, someone needs to tell them to quit promoting it, Robert lamented, We don’t have enough courts as it is, and we don’t need all these newbies coming in here and spoiling it for us.

Court 6 open. Next group is up, said some guy I had never seen before.

That’s me, said Robert, jumping up off the bench, Hang around and let’s catch up after my game.

I didn’t have time to respond as he ran toward his court, along with a group of people I didn’t know. At one time I knew just about everyone who played here, but as Robert said, new people were discovering the game every day. Just in the past year, new courts had sprung up all over Denver and it still wasn’t sufficient.

I sat on a bench to watch the players and to see where my previous skill level would put me today. Before I took my hiatus, I was considered a 4.0 – 4.5, which put me in the advanced skill level, but not good enough to play with the pros. Now, after a year off, I figured I would be rusty, but was anxious to get on a court and find out where I would fit in.

A pretty, blond woman dressed in a bright floral tennis outfit, probably in her 40’s, set her paddle in the rack and approached me.

Hi there, I’m Joanne, she said, as she held out her hand.

Al, I replied and shook her hand.

May I sit down?

Of course, I said, and scooted over to make room for her.

You look new. Have you played here before?

I had read in one of the hundreds of recent articles about pickleball that it was becoming the new pick-up place for middle-aged people. Was Joanne just being friendly or was this a pickup line?

I used to play here a year ago but stopped. It sure has grown since I was here last.

I just started to play a few months ago. I love the game, she said enthusiastically, I can’t get enough of it. Why did you stop coming here?

I contemplated making up something but decided not to bother. I took time to take care of my wife when she got ill. I paused and collected myself for the next part. After she passed away, I guess I just didn’t feel ready to come back. I wiped away a tear.

I’m so sorry to hear that, she said in a very comforting tone, while lightly touching my arm, Are you OK?

No one had asked me that since Stephanie died. I immediately liked this person and something about her made me want to open up. It was cancer. We thought she beat it, but it came back and there was nothing the doctors could do to save her. She and I used to play here before she became ill. She was an excellent player.

That had to be tough. I had breast cancer myself. Fortunately, they found it early and I’m cancer free now.

I smiled. That’s great. Cancer sucks and I’m glad to hear from someone who beat it.

Are you here to play?

No. I just came by to take a look around. Maybe see some of the people I used to play with. Like Robert, I pointed him out on the court.

Oh.

The way she said it, I knew something was wrong. You know Robert?

Oh yeah. Everyone here does. He has a bit of a reputation.

I laughed. He had one when I was playing too. So, I take it he’s still a hot head?

You might say that. He’s always arguing with someone about rules or line calls. I saw him get in a fight just last week. Some people had to break it up. They tried to get him banned from playing here, but so far, no such luck. I don’t play with him anymore because he hits too hard and, I hate to say it, he targets women. I got hit in the chest by him. But he isn’t the only one like that. There are a few guys that like to intimidate the ladies.

Sorry. I never liked to see that. I don’t understand why men think they need to overpower the women on the court.

I have a theory, she said with a laugh.

I looked at her and immediately understood. Point made.

So, were you good before you quit playing?

I didn’t want to sound like I was bragging, but I wanted to be honest with her. I was decent. I won a couple gold medals in men’s doubles and mixed doubles before I stopped playing. I was going to move up to 4.5, I shrugged. I think she understood. But I’m sure I’m rusty now. I might come out and play a little before I move.

Moving? Why are you moving? Work? You look too young to be retired.

I’ll take that as a compliment. I am actually retired. My wife and I both had businesses that we sold when she got sick, and fortunately it allowed me to retire young. What about you?

Oh, I married a rich man and then got divorced, she laughed. I didn’t know what to say to that, so I said nothing. One thing about pickleball, whether it’s good or bad (sometimes I’m not so sure which), is the social aspect. Within minutes of meeting people, you hear all about their aches and pains and such, and you find yourself sharing with them as well.

Are you Jewish? she asked out of the blue. I looked at her, obviously confused. The star of David, she said, pointing at the gold star around my neck.

Ah. Yes, I am, I answered as I touched it. I could tell she wanted an explanation and since I was used to the question, I went on to explain, My wife, Stephanie, was Jewish and wanted me to convert. She gave me this when I finished converting. I wasn’t much of a Christian, so I did. It made her parents very happy. Are you Jewish?

I am. I have to say, I haven’t met too many black Jews, she said and before I could answer, she continued, Not that it’s a bad thing or anything.

My friends and my parents might beg to disagree. When I converted, the standard line was ‘you don’t have it hard enough as a black man, you want to make it tougher by being a black Jew?’ They weren’t wrong. But it seemed like the thing to do at the time.

You’re a hoot, she laughed again. She had a deep infectious laugh. It had been quite some time since I interacted with a woman outside of care givers and doctors, and I found myself enjoying it.

How did you meet your wife? Joanne asked.

College. We dated and got serious. Her parents eventually warmed up to their daughter dating a black man when she told them I was going to convert.

Sounds like typical Jewish parents. My husband was already a Jew, but my parents hated him. I guess they saw what took me a few years to see. Now I’m happier than I’ve ever been. She paused and I could see she regretted the last comment. I’m sorry. Marriage would have been great with the right guy.

We were interrupted by a commotion on the court where Robert was playing. He and another man were at the net arguing about something and it was getting more and more heated. We couldn’t pick up everything that was being said, other than a few loud curse words. I hadn’t seen Robert in over a year, but I recognized the pattern. He was about to explode. Sure enough, he stepped back and threw his paddle down hard on the ground. It bounced up and over the net, hitting his opponent in the face. The man’s hands flew up to his nose and he went down hard. He sat there holding his nose, silent. Most of us would have been dismayed and remorseful by our actions and the damage done, but not Robert. His opponent pulled his hand away from his nose, exposing a fistful of blood. Robert seemed undaunted and yelled at the guy to get up and not be a baby. The man held up his hand to show Robert the blood and said something unintelligible, red spittle dribbling down his chin.

Robert turned and bolted. Before anyone could say anything else to him, he was out the gate, grabbing his equipment bag at a full run.

Holy shit. Did you see that? I asked Joanne.

Oh my god. What the hell is wrong with that guy?

By now, people were helping the injured man up and applying towels to his nose. He was staggering a bit as they helped him over to the bench area. He was dazed but seemed to be recovering. Then he got angry.

Where is that shithead? he asked.

Gone, I told him, He ran off toward the parking lot.

I think he broke my nose.

Someone told him he should call the police and file a complaint, while someone else said it looked like an accident to them. A tall man in a tennis outfit came over and handed the man a business card. I was guessing he was an attorney.

I had seen enough for one day. This wasn’t the first altercation I had seen on the courts over the years when I played, but it was probably the bloodiest. Arguments were common, and sometimes they resulted in a shoving match, but no punches were usually exchanged. I’ve seen guys toss paddles over a fence, into the net, and even seen hard balls hit at people with the intent to intimidate or even hit them, but generally speaking, people stay civilized at the pickleball courts. Short tempers seemed to come with intense competition.

Joanne, I think I’m going to head home. I’ve got a big pup that is probably wondering when I’m going to get home and take him for a walk.

OK. It was nice to meet you, Al. Will you be coming back out here to play?

I’m not sure. Butch and I are moving soon.

Butch?

My 80-pound bundle of fur.

Oh. I would love to meet him sometime. I love dogs.

Was she coming on to me? It had been so long since I dated anyone but Stephanie, I wasn’t sure how to read the clues. When she offered me her phone number, all doubt was removed.

Are you coming back out here tomorrow? I asked her, hoping she would say yes. I don’t live that far away, maybe I’ll come back and bring Butch, so you can meet him.

I would love that, she said with a big smile, and held out her hand.

As I left, Joanne was running on to a court to play with some ladies. They were all giggling like little girls, and I was feeling a little guilty. Stephanie had been gone for over six months, but it still didn’t feel right to be flirting. I was ready to get back out into the world, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready for a relationship. Then I scolded myself for even thinking that, after one chance meeting at a pickleball court, this was anything more than just meeting a new friend.

My home, the house that Stephanie and I bought at the height of our careers, was only about a ten-minute walk from the Gates Tennis Center. Stephanie had gone into the real estate business right after we graduated and was hugely successful, having started and built one of the more prestigious real estate brokerage firms in the Denver area. She found the house for us before it came on the market, and although it was considered a fixer upper, it was in a great neighborhood and she convinced me it would not only be a great investment, but it would be a wonderful home to raise our future kids in. Sadly, cancer had derailed that plan. Now as I walked up to it, all I could see was this huge family home that was just too big and lonely for a guy and his dog.

I opened the door and there was Butch, as if he could hear me coming, with a disapproving look on his face. Clearly the message was: I had been gone too long.

Sorry buddy, I didn’t mean to be gone that long. As I leashed him up, I tried to explain to him about the fight at the pickleball courts. He was unimpressed. Butch was Stephanie’s dog. He worshiped her and tolerated me until she passed away, and then his love for me grew. I guess when he realized she wasn’t coming back and I was all he had, he warmed up to me. Now we are best buddies, but he still thinks he needs to put me in my place from time to time. And he isn’t wrong. Thanks to him, I hadn’t hidden out in the house all day, every day the past six months.

A few weeks ago, I had talked it over with Butch and we came to an agreement that it was time to sell the house and leave Denver. I talked and he listened and when I said, Let’s leave, he didn’t disagree. The deal was struck, and for me, the key was to move to a place where I wasn’t known and didn’t have a ton of memories. The only other requirements I had were warm weather (i.e., no snow), and plenty of opportunity to play pickleball year-round. As it turns out, finding a place with no pickleball drama should have been on the list as well.

Butch and I wandered down the street and headed toward Pulaski Park, which had a nice dog park area. It was a favorite destination for Stephanie and Butch as he could run with other dogs, and she could relax without worrying about him getting into any trouble. It was also close enough that the walk wouldn’t put too much strain on Stephanie. When we arrived, I opened the gate and released Butch to run wild with the other pups. I found a bench to sit and watch.

Al, I heard my name called and turned to see Derrick Green, an old acquaintance from the neighborhood. How you doing? he said, as he let his dog, Mickey, loose to run with the pack.

Good, Derrick, what about you?

Alright, I guess. This and that hurts, but at my age it could be a lot worse.

Derrick lived down the street from us and was in his early 70’s. Ever since I’ve known him, he’s complained about something hurting.

But I’ve finally decided to take up pickleball. Mary convinced me I should play. She took me out there a few days ago and started to teach me. Mary was another neighbor of ours and a devoted pickleball player.

Good for you, Derrick. I’m sure you’ll love it.

I already do. She told me you used to play at Gates all the time and stopped, he paused, and I thought that I knew what he was going to say, but he surprised me. She said that you were one of the better players out there.

I was decent, but then I’ve been an athlete all my life and it came naturally for me.

I also heard you were going to sell your house and move.

Wow. News sure does travel fast.

Yep. Officially on the market next week.

Well, we will be sorry to see you go. Where are you headed?

Little Arizona town by the Mexican border called Rio Viejo.

Geez, Al. Are you crazy? All you hear about are the coyotes and illegal aliens and drug cartels kidnapping people. I don’t think it’s safe.

I wanted to say, Quit watching Fox News, but instead I said, I think a lot of the news about the border is overblown. Then as a joke I added, Can’t live forever.

Humph, he grunted. I’m just saying.

I’ll be careful, but thanks for the warning.

Why there? I never heard of the place.

I wanted to leave it on a positive note, so I said, The weather there is extraordinary. No snow and it rarely gets below 40. Even the summers aren’t too bad. It’s not hot like Phoenix and you won’t believe the prices on real estate. For what I can sell my house for here, I can probably buy a bigger house there for less than a quarter of the money.

That would be nice I suppose, but I don’t need the money. I think I’ll stay right here.

Good, I thought, because I wasn’t inviting him to join me. I decided not to tell him any of the other benefits to living in Southern Arizona.

When does all this take place?

Soon. I already have a place rented down there, just trying to decide what day to leave. Then I’ll just pack up a U-Haul and go. Not going to wait till the house sells.

I bet it sells fast. Well, good luck to you, Al, he said as he signaled for Mickey to join him. They left, and Butch and I followed a few minutes later.

Butch, are you scared about moving to Arizona?

He turned his head as he often does when he’s trying to understand what I’m saying.

I promise you’ll love it.

Pickleball Tip # 1 – Have Fun

Pickleball is fun. It is supposed to be fun, anyway. Yes, it is great exercise for people of all ages, and it is a great way to get out of the house and get some sun and clean air, but it is also a great way to meet people and socialize. Many players get competitive and join tournaments and leagues, but even the lower skill level players participate in them. One thing you will notice around pickleball courts is all the laughter and joking. People are having a great time. They laugh and cheer at both good and bad shots. It is said that pickleball is the fastest growing sport in America, if not the world. As anyone can tell you, it is an easy sport to learn and achieve a modicum of proficiency at. The court is smaller than a tennis court, and it doesn’t require as much training or athletic skill as tennis in order to get good enough to have some fun.

It isn’t uncommon for a newbie to get hooked within a few minutes of play.

Chapter 2

The following day, Butch and I rose early. We had a quick breakfast and were out the door heading for the pickleball courts at the Gates Tennis facility. I didn’t bring my equipment, so I wasn’t going to play, but I had promised to bring Butch by the courts so Joanne could meet him, and I was anxious to see her again, even though I wasn’t interested in a relationship so soon after losing Stephanie. It was nice to have someone new to talk to.

A normal ten-to-fifteen-minute walk to Gates turned into thirty, because Butch had to sniff and pee on everything along the way. Even so, when we arrived, I was disappointed not to see Joanne. I decided that I would wait. A few people from my old playing days were around and came up to say hello and meet Butch. He put on a charm show and was reveling in the attention. Right in the middle of his performance, the police showed up. I watched as they went around to various people questioning them and then it was my turn.

Sir, a tall white officer approached me, I understand from some of the people here that you were here during the altercation yesterday.

Yes, I was, but I really don’t have any idea what happened.

Can I get your name and contact information? he asked, while taking notes on a little pad. I complied politely. The officer continued, Can you tell me what you saw?

I saw a guy named Robert arguing with someone and then he tossed his paddle, and it bounced up and hit the guy he was arguing with in the face.

You know Robert?

Not really. I mean, I played here a year ago and he played a lot.

Do you know his last name or where he lives?

I do not.

Was there anything you saw before Robert threw the paddle that might have precipitated Robert’s reaction?

No. I heard some arguing and looked up at them just as Robert threw the paddle. Is the fellow who got hit pressing charges?

Yes, he is. Thanks for your time. He walked off to talk with some other players.

Joanne arrived while I was talking to the officer.

Hi, Al. What was that about?

Remember the fight yesterday? Well, I guess the guy with the broken nose is pressing charges, but no one seems to know anything about Robert. Do you know anything about him?

No. I’ve seen him out here, but I never played with him. And if I did, I don’t think I would want to get on the wrong side of Robert. He’s kind of scary. She bent over to pet Butch. So, this is your little companion.

I couldn’t argue her logic. From my recollection of Robert, I could see how he could intimidate someone. I can’t say with any authority, but unless he’s changed, he did appear to have a short fuse.

Butch, say hi to Joanne.

Butch lifted his paw and waved to her.

He’s adorable. So, are you here to play?

No. I just came by with Butch so you could meet him. After I said it, I felt like a school kid trying to impress a pretty girl.

I’m so glad you did, she said with a huge warm smile.

We chatted for a while. I knew she wanted to play and was thrilled that she delayed playing to talk with me.

So, tell me about this little town you are planning to move to.

Rio Viejo. It’s a small town by the border that dated back to the 1700’s. It’s quiet and I think they have one stop light, if my memory serves me. It’s been a few years since I was there, and we only stayed one night. I remember there were a lot of artists and art galleries.

Sounds nice, she said.

You say that, but you don’t sound convinced.

I like a big town with lots to do.

Well, they have world-class bird watching, I laughed.

Well, shut the door and turn out the lights, she said sarcastically, and laughed.

OK. It does sound a bit boring, I agreed, I’m not actually a bird watcher, but it is very pretty there. There’s a nice river running through the area and a resort with a nice golf course.

Do you play golf?

I used to. In fact, there aren’t too many sports I don’t play or at least used to play at one time or another. But now I mostly just play pickleball, and they have some great courts.

So, the big attraction for you is…?

I thought about how much I wanted to share with her. I’m ready to leave Denver and try something new. I grew up here, met and married my wife here. We both started and ran successful businesses in the area. A lot of history here.

I’m going to guess you feel like there are too many sad memories here?

I nodded. Lots of good and sad memories. Lots of friends here from when we were a couple, and I just don’t feel like being the odd guy out. So Butch and I will head south and start something new.

When do you leave?

A couple days. I found a rental online near the courts that should be perfect for us. I rented it for six months. I figure that will be enough time to decide if we want to stay longer or move on.

Sounds exciting.

You ever think about leaving Denver? As soon as I asked, I worried she might think I was asking her to join me. I wasn’t. I hardly knew her. I held my breath.

Not really. I love it here. I ski, and I just love the action here. Plus, I have a lot of friends here and now I have pickleball. But I’d love to come down some time and see it.

We agreed to keep in touch and exchanged phone numbers and email accounts. I felt a pang of guilt in my gut. Was it too soon? After Stephanie died, I vowed I was done with relationships.

Joanne excused herself and took the opportunity to join some of her girlfriends for a game, while I watched. They were all about the same skill level, 3.0+. What they lacked in skill, they made up in enthusiasm. Next to them was a group of guys that looked to be much better. Possibly 3.5 to 4.0 level. They were intense but still seemed to be having fun. They finished their game and rather than leave the court, they stood around drinking water and discussing the game.

The waiting rack for their court had 4 paddles up next. The owners of the paddles grabbed them and headed for the court, expecting the previous players to leave. As they reached the court, the players there informed the newcomers that they were going to have to wait out another game before playing.

We’re up next, said one of the men, strutting onto the court.

After we finish.

No. That isn’t how it works here.

I don’t fucking care how it works here, screamed one of the other men. We’re playing another game and you can either wait or find another court.

Bullshit.

Yeah, exactly. Bullshit. Get off the court, said the man, marching up to get in the face of the newcomer.

More insults and cussing ensued. Neither group looked like they were going to back down. I knew that local rules dictated that it was four on and four off if there was anyone waiting to play. But I told myself I wasn’t getting involved, and I wasn’t the only one that didn’t step up. A crowd of spectators grew around me, grumbling and commenting, but no one was willing to step on the court and mediate the argument. I was convinced it was about to explode into a full-on brawl.

Gentlemen, and I use that term lightly in your cases, said the cop that had interviewed me a few minutes earlier, I’m going to tell you one time and one time only. Settle this now, peacefully, or I’m going to ban all of you from playing here.

You can’t do that, argued one of the original players.

Try me. In fact, I’m going to change that order and I’m telling you. He paused and pointed to the loudmouth that had challenged him, pack your things up and go home or I’ll drag you in on a nuisance offense.

The man started to object, but one of his friends pulled him aside and whispered what I assume was good advice, as the man calmed down, grabbed his things, and stormed off, muttering to himself. Crisis averted for now.

This kind of thing was happening more and more on courts all across the country. I had seen a little of it a year ago, but as the popularity of the sport had exploded the last year or two, the competition for court time had become a problem. As the level of play improved, other problems surfaced as well. The better players only wanted to play better players and seemed less interested in helping newbies develop their games.

I turned to someone standing next me, Is this happening a lot here these days?

You must be new here, he said. "There’s a fight here almost every day now. Either someone gets their panties in a bind over getting hit with