Riverbottom Emperor: Jack Derrett Thriller Series, #1

By W.D. Edmiston

An exciting law enforcement story full of twists, turns, and a hint of the paranormal.

 

When a grieving family sues the police over the wrongful death of their father, Jack Derrett is tasked to find the truth. His brother, the attorney defending the ghostly little city of Macabre, needs any information he can get to explain why a so-called "nice guy" would attack a cop. But things aren't what they seem. This nice guy has far too many secrets for his own good.

Not even the burning of Jack's car, being run down by a murderous truck, or being targeted by a drug cartel can stop him from solving what's turning out to be a much bigger mystery.

 

If you like Jack Reacher and Clive Cussler's Inca Gold, you're sure to love this series. Grab your copy today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: OGSB Authors
• Release date: Mar 15, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224698615

Book preview

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1

Jack and Ann Derrett

Ahigh, mottled cloud pattern called a mackerel sky moved slowly over Jack Derrett’s home. The local folklore said the pattern portended sudden changes, and carried charms and totems just in case. He thought only of the weather not erstwhile legends.

Jack was a police investigator, had attended Quantico, and had a well-earned legend as a supercop. With a glass of sweet tea, he sat on their teak dining set, watching the clouds change. He leaned forward as his wife Ann, walked behind him to her chair.

Hey sweetie. How is it out here? Ann asked, her hands on his shoulders.

Pretty. We have a mackerel sky today, so there is a weather change coming. As he said it, a family trait twisted the muscles in his neck and shoulders.

Ann felt the knots form. Jack hunched his shoulders together as the muscles distorted. She stopped and massaged them.

Jack, did somebody walk over your grave? She kidded, kneading the hard knots of his contorted muscles. They were resistant to the massage.

He was tough and healthy; she could still run her fingers through a full head of hair. He was to her an Adonis. But she knew the cramps hurt, and she knew his grandfather said they were more than just a cramp.

It’s what he called the ‘thumps’, and it’s supposed to be a premonition. He was a bit superstitious. Do you really remember him?

Of course, he was a sweet man. Do you have any idea what it is—sometimes the Cowboys lose, sometimes a guy rear-ends you on the way to work. She kissed him and smoothed his hair.

Sometimes nothing happens. Jack patted her hand.

Paw-Paw would say, ‘a dappled sky, like a painted woman, soon changes its face.’

She kept rubbing his shoulders until the muscles softened and then placed her cheek against his. Sometimes, something does happen. You have an almost magical way of knowing something is coming. I worry about you.

Nothing will happen to me that God hasn’t planned. It is gone anyway, your massage worked. Jack pulled her into his lap, nuzzled her cheek, and kissed her. Let’s go down to the marina and take the boat to dinner. The boat’s already in the water. It’s not too cool yet, and the kids are gone till after dark.

Ann smiled; The Floatin’ Notion was a favorite place for dinner, a colorful floating restaurant with old money tradition and kitsch for those living in the million-dollar lakeside homes

. Yes, please. Let me go change.

I’ll get the golf cart. Jack parked on the walkway and waited. A quiet dinner with Ann was exactly what he had hoped for that evening. He kneaded his left shoulder. The knots in the muscles that time were harder than ever before.

Something bad is up. God protect me from harm.

Jack seldom got immediate responses from prayer, but that day was the exception. The words were, Prepare for adventure.

After Ann climbed aboard the golf cart, they took only a couple of minutes to get to the boat then motored across the lake to the restaurant. A young deckhand tied their boat to the dock. Ann hopped out of the boat wearing a coverlet over a caramel-colored bathing suit top and matching shorts. Every eye in the restaurant followed them as they walked to their table. Jack grinned. Ann noticed that many of the women looked at her, smiled, then their eyes followed Jack to their table.

***

Yeah, she’s with me

The thin, coltish teen Jack married had become an especially beautiful woman, not vain, but she liked to cling to Jack in public just to show off for him. Jack won her heart by giving his to her fully, she did not feel like the trophy wives who married for millionaire money.

Nice entrance, Jack said.

Think so? Ann giggled.

The ladies quit looking at me when they saw you.

Now, that is your imagination.

Jack had met Ann while setting up decorations for his senior prom. She had just transferred, and he was taken by her at once. Jack and Ann had never been at a loss for conversation or affection since. Even after circumstances dictated, they could only adopt children, the passion remained.

An order for the restaurant’s famous Fajitas for Two, and a pair of top-shelf Margaritas later, they left quietly. Jack pulled the boat into his favorite j-shaped cove, covered on three sides by sheer cliffs. Only the stars could see them back in the cove. They shared a bottle of wine, made small talk, then slipped into the Vee-berth to be alone, thinking only of each other. But there, alone in their cove, they grew closer, better, two people one heart.

Nights like these steeled them against evil. The kind that triggered sudden death miles and miles away yet had coiled the muscles in Jack’s shoulders. Like the mottled sky scudding over his rooftop, he would be drawn into that death and portend changes of his own.

***

Gunfight with Flashlight

Behind the police station, Melissa Canton hugged Buddy Parnell, not wanting to let go. Melissa was a damaged nineteen-year-old forced to stay with her cousin in town. The cousin was the only trustworthy member of her family and the only one she still cared about. Her family was bad, and she wanted to be good. But until that weekend, she had never dreamed she might date someone who would offer her a beautiful and expensive engagement ring.

The weather change Jack’s mackerel sky promised had already arrived there. The ice crystals from its winter freeze mixed with the breath vapor swirling around their heads. They glistened with the colors of the diamonds in her ring. With it, he was offering the kind of family and freedom she had only imagined.

The police badge Buddy wore over his left pocket was cold against her cheek, but the warmth of his embrace held the promise of a future even greater than her dreams. Buddy had money. Her father, Buck Canton, was irrational. He craved wealth but hated people with money. Buddy not only had wealth of his own, but he would become heir to the wealth of his family. He had built his own home by the time he was eighteen, but lived on his grandmother and grandfather’s ranch, to help with his Papaw’s Alzheimer’s. Buck lived in a travel trailer and was a thief.

Buddy’s land was originally part of a large Spanish Land grant. The Parnells came to Texas with Moses Austin. Papaw disbursed a generous section to his children and the rest to Buddy after the senior Parnell first learned of his diagnosis. Buddy had worked on the ranch all his life and had received the larger piece of land and the management responsibility long before he met Melissa. He could not be more different from Buck Canton.

Buddy felt her tremble and whispered in her ear. Don’t worry, I’ll be close. Just go see what your mother wants. She only said to come see her at work, didn’t she?

Melissa avoided looking at him.

There is more to it then? With his hands on her shoulders, he opened a space between them and watched her face.

The note said she was at work, and she’d left my dad… I wouldn’t go but for that. I’m through with them, but if he’s gone, maybe she can be my mom again.

Just call her, Buddy said.

Daddy shouldn’t be there. If he is, he’ll want me to come home with them and keep giving him most of my paycheck. He doesn’t own me. Melissa looked up into his eyes. I won’t do that. But I want to see her, I’ll know if it’s a setup.

You don’t have to. Just wait. Check it out tomorrow.

At least I won’t have to talk to him. Buck will still be mad that I’ve been with you all weekend… and your Papaw and Mema.

But Melissa, if you know Buck is mad, it sounds more like a set-up.

She buried her face in the fuzzy collar of his coat. Now, let me go…

He kissed her quickly and released her.

Two steps away, she turned back and grabbed him. No, hold me a little longer.

She feared her father. Secretly she worried what they would do to her, that she would never see Buddy again. His promise was too good to be true. She shivered.

Buddy wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. He was sure of their connection, but common sense and intellect told him barriers were ahead; things they would need to overcome—that they would overcome. His simple words, Come on, I will take you in the patrol car. It’s not that far, anyway, seemed to assure them they were safe, protected.

They rode to the hotel bar where her mother worked in a back office. It will be okay. You don’t have to wait; I can walk to my cousin’s place from here. She kissed him again and went inside.

Buddy pulled into the rear of the parking lot and waited to see that she was safe. Her cousin’s home was close, but he didn’t want her to walk there. They had dated happily for a year, and he had never been loved so deeply in his life.

His police radio crackled, potentially a call that would make him leave her there alone. Horace Ballew’s bass voice resonated through the air. Mac 2121, stay there. I’m at the stoplight. I need to talk to you.

Buddy exhaled in a soundless whistle, 10-4, I’ll stay here,

At the traffic signal a half-block away, Buddy saw the huge country cop filling the front seat of his patrol unit. Ballew’s broad shoulders made the unit look more like an import than a full-size Tahoe. Buddy knew they would talk window to window, cop style. Everyone called the man-mountain, Horse, and Buddy was happy to see him.

***

Buddy and Horse sat in a dark corner with their police units in opposite directions and only inches separating their driver’s windows.

I’m watching for Melissa. She is talking to her mother. Charmen says she split with Buck, Buddy said.

Buck Canton is an ornery son-of-a… Buddy raised his hand.

Be nice. That is my future father-in-law.

Yeah, right. Anyway, I’ve got my new Remington 700 deer rifle bore sighted and ready for deer season. Can I come over to your place and try it out?

Sure, Melissa will be with me. You bring Beth over Saturday, then you can take us all to dinner afterward.

A van that had obscured Buck’s pickup, reversed from a parking space.

Uh oh, Buddy said.

Seconds later, Buck and Charmen walked out of the bar. Melissa was beside them, her head down.

Horse, something is wrong. Melissa came over here to talk to her mom. Her dad was not supposed to be here.

Maybe it was the same kind of human intuition that had caused Jack Derrett’s muscles to twist, maybe it was Buddy’s police training mixed with his having run the ranch for so long. He sensed danger was ahead, and he wasn’t about to ignore it.

Melissa kneeled, to tie her shoe. Her parents did not notice and kept walking. Buddy hesitated, knowing she needed to solve the matter, he hoped they were going to talk and settle things. Maybe the ring would make a difference. Charmen turned to look at her, and Melissa ran toward the police station. The Cantons had not seen the officers and chased after her.

Horse, she doesn’t see us. Buddy opened his door, and it banged into the other patrol unit. Alarmed, both officers tried to get out. Move your car, Horse. When the patrol cars moved, they stayed beside each other—Buddy had pulled forward, Horse backward. Buddy could not respond; the moment’s delay would have been funny if they were not worried about Melissa. She ran hard, and the two adults ran after her.

Go forward, Horse, Buddy yelled.

Yes, yes. After Horace cleared his door, Buddy ran the distance to the couple as Melissa tried to jump a concrete wall at the edge of the parking lot. She missed and fell onto her face, cutting her cheek and palm.

Horace circled, his headlights illuminating each parked car until they fell on the fighting. It was a mass of tangled arms and legs. Buck held above his head a blue anodized, aluminum flashlight; but to him, it was just a metal club. Horse slammed the truck into park and let the internal parking pawl stop the car as he exited. Drop the club! he yelled before pulling his lapel mic close. 2125, dispatch, officers need assistance, behind The Dixie motel.

Dispatch, 2125, what did you say? Horse was out of the patrol unit and did not answer.

Melissa saw Buddy running, Daddy was hiding in the bathroom, he’s drunk and mad as… Charmen slapped Melissa, who covered her face to block the blows.

Police officers. Y'all, stop fighting. Stop it now! Buddy yelled.

Buck jerked his daughter’s long hair, slamming the girl into her mother. Charmen fell backward and smacked her head on the pavement. She jumped up sputtering and spraying saliva on everyone. Her throaty yell was directed at no one in particular. She launched herself at Melissa and Buck, slapping and cursing.

Stop fighting. Both of you back away from Melissa. Now! Buddy repeated. The pair ignored him.

Buddy used his pepper spray. It missed Buck, and it only made Charmen’s nose run and her eyes water more. She kept flailing at Melissa blindly. Buddy took Charmen’s arm and bent the wrist with his other hand. The painful technique caused no harm but hurt enough to gain control. Charmen cursed and kicked at him. Buddy pushed her against the concrete wall and cuffed both hands. Horse rushed into the altercation to grab Buck pushing him away from Charmen. He held Buck’s wrist so he could not swing the flashlight and turned the man over and pushed him to the ground to handcuff him.

From the bushes Melissa’s brother, Mustang ran to tackle Horse. He struck Horse in the chest with an old-fashioned wooden police baton. Horse was wearing a ballistic vest with a titanium insert. The blow had the effect of a bug splattering on the windshield of a speeding Buick. However, it diverted him from Buck just enough for him to wrestle free. Horse pushed Mustang against his Tahoe patrol unit with one hand and grabbed Buck’s collar.

Stay against the vehicle, he shouted. He pushed the kid against the patrol unit as Mustang squalled like his mother. Buck wrenched around and knocked Horse’s hand away with the flashlight. He ran to where Buddy was cuffing Charmen and struck him in the head. Blood splattered in every direction.

Melissa crawled toward Buddy who had dropped to his knees, half-conscious. Buck, get back, Melissa pleaded.

Buddy saw Buck cock his fist back to swing again, and yelled, Stop or I will shoot! The swing barely missed Buddy, who ducked away and commanded, Police, stop! Melissa tried to protect Buddy, but Buck hit her with the light, knocking her away.

From the police unit Mustang yelled, Daddy! Don’t do nothing stupid Daddy. Then he tried to run toward Buck.

Horse yelled, Drop the light. Stop it. Buck seemed to pause as Horse stuffed Mustang behind the prisoner divider in the patrol unit, still yelling and complaining, These handcuffs hurt. Even closed inside the vehicle, he kicked at the metal divider and the window. Buck crouched like an animal and turned toward Buddy.

Charmen rolled to her side and yelled at Buck, Get back! Get back, that bastard will shoot you!

Buck lurched forward and hit Buddy’s ear. The ear spurted blood and his scalp parted just above it. Melissa reached to block the next blow, just as Buck raised the flashlight again. Buddy desperately laid back to distance his head from another strike and double tapped the trigger of big .45 caliber pistol. Buck squatted back on his heels, arterial blood spurting from the bullet wounds. He raked the air for something to stop his fall but thudded against the tire of a large truck. For a moment, there was no sound at all, no one moved, no one spoke.

You stupid child, that boy done killed your father, Charmen screamed at Melissa, who was cradling Buddy’s head.

Slowly, Melissa raised her left hand, revealing Buddy’s engagement ring. Her eyes narrowed into a hot withering gaze.

Charmen’s eyes twitched as her mouth hung open. We need to sell it, Buck will need money, you can’t marry that city boy. Buck won’t have it.

Mama, can’t you get off the grift, even with your husband lying dead in front of you? He got himself shot because he wanted my paycheck.

Horse hovered over Buddy, his enormous frame, between them. God bless you Buddy, you are bleeding all over, Horse said.

Melissa waved him away. I’ve got him.

The big cop ran to Buck. Procedure required that he give aid. Someone from the motel next door pushed a towel toward him while another witness talked to a 911 operator. Melissa took a second towel from the hotel guest and wiped the blood from Buddy’s face. The sodium vapor streetlights with their monochromatic orange painted the scene the same hue until the ambulance’s white area light hit the pooling blood around Buck. It flashed a bright red, the color of lust and anger. A tiny woman in the crowd, a meth addict with pin-point pupils, stopped chewing her gum, and gaped.

The murmurs and sounds reflected the mood of the crowd and blended like an orchestra warming up, as if they would soon break into a slow New Orleans dirge for the dead.

Horse tried to stop the bleeding by covering the holes in Buck’s chest with the white towel. The towel rapidly became red too. Buck took a long, ragged breath and fell into the pooling blood making guttural noises. Life left him as his last breath escaped. Horse dragged his sleeve over his nose. The smell of cordite from the bullets and the odor of spilled blood was thick. It mingled with the alcohol odor of the boy in handcuffs, and the dead man’s woodsy campfire body odor. The combination disgusted him.

He checked Buck’s pulse and shook his head. The wounds were three inches apart, and Horse assumed at least one slug had stopped his heart. He radioed the station for a Justice of the Peace and all the other necessary support agencies. In the cold evening, the crowd breathed fog into the air, idling exhausts added more haze, and the injured and dying lay in shadows from the people blocking the lights.

They were surrounded by a flurry of activity as Melissa took off her tee shirt to try to staunch Buddy's bleeding scalp. Even wounded and in pain he comforted her. Are you okay? I can’t see you, honey.

Melissa was worried, and, she felt strange, being loved that much. Your scalp is all saggy, Buddy. There is blood in your eyes, they aren’t all the way open. The doctors will fix it, you’ll be fine. She wiped at the blood and realized she was looking at Buddy’s skull.

The turmoil of fellow officers, equipment sirens, and stragglers was chaotic, and the officers descended on the curious people amidst a bizarre nightmare. Cops and firefighters began clearing the lookers away, forming around the wounded and first responders, protecting them until the ambulance attendants arrived. The attendants tried to work on Buck with no success. Another ambulance arrived and attendants pushed the spectators away, with their gurney.

The ambulance attendants notified the hospital Buddy was critical and carefully placed a cervical collar on his neck, rolled him on a backboard and he was lifted onto a gurney and then the ambulance. Melissa went with him, the word critical swirling in her head.

That left Horse and a Sergeant in charge of the scene, just as worried, and angry at the onlookers.

Clear this scene, the Sergeant yelled. One of you wrap some tape around this area. My cops need to be working not spectating, the rest of you go home."

It was less than three minutes from when Melissa fell at the wall, until the squabble ended in an irreversible tragedy. It exploded on a spot of ground smaller than a parking space. Had Buck Canton’s adolescent ego been toned down, and had he not fixated on a 19-year-old girl’s paycheck to which he had no claim, he wouldn't be dead and his wife wouldn't be left destitute.

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2

In Macabre

Almost two years later, investigator Jack Derrett fretted as he drove home, remembering an old Texas proverb, Don’t take a knife when you are going to a gunfight. Buck Canton had caught two bullets for fighting a cop with a flashlight in Macabre, Texas. Jack had completed two interviews there and now understood how Macabre had earned its name and reputation. Jack was wondering if he had done the same thing, come unprepared for the size of the fight.

The preliminary reports and the articles from the local press portrayed Buck Canton as a poor but honest cowboy who valued his reputation, worked alongside his neighbors, and loved horses. That had made no sense to Jack. That kind of guy doesn’t get himself shot unless he’s involved in some crime or one of the seven deadly sins. But from Jack’s interviews, Buck seemed guilty of them all. Hale Berkshire, Jack’s brother, was the city’s attorney, and asked him to look into it.

Jack, the Canton family sees his death as a huge case of police corruption, their lawyer is from Houston. The newspaper articles make the case look like a slam-dunk for their side, Hale said.

But Jack soon discovered that nothing in Macabre was as it first appeared, and the news people in Houston had it wrong.

In two interviews with family members—those who were not expecting a cut of the settlement with the City of Macabre—Jack learned the description of the Cantons was all journalistic excess, puffery, and sensationalism. Even the family called him a nutcase and there was no question why he had beaten the young cop. A fellow Buck had worked for, said, Buck was so little he could look a rattler in the eye standing up, and was mean as one poked with a stick. Jack made a note but assumed that wouldn’t be accepted as evidence by the court.

His case notes said the wounds on the officer’s head took over two-hundred stitches to close, and Buck had learned the wisdom of the old Texas proverb the .45 caliber way. It was a start. But Jack still needed to get the right material, real records of bad behavior, and breaking the law, to reduce the amount of damages they were demanding and he wondered how.

Jack needed