Moonlight Gets Railroaded: A Dick Moonlight PI Series

By Vincent Zandri

How Would You React if You Were Tied to Railroad Tracks and a Speeding Locomotive was Bearing Down on You?

Crazy PI Dick Moonlight teams up with Fat Elvis to uncover the plot behind the violent homicide of an Albany man. How was the man killed? He was tied to the train tracks utilized by an Amtrak passenger train. What seems like a simple case of revenge on behalf of more than one man and woman, turns into a dangerous trainwreck for Moonlight and Elvis. And that's putting it lightly. From New York Times, Thriller Award winning author, Vincent Zandri.

"Vincent Zandri is one of the most acclaimed thriller writers working today!" -- Publishers Weekly

"Vincent Zandri hails from the future." -- The New York Times

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vincent Zandri
• Release date: Oct 25, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227313508

Vincent Zandri

"Vincent Zandri hails from the future." --The New York Times "Sensational . . . masterful . . . brilliant." --New York Post  "...big time author..."  --Digital Journal Considered one of the most prolific writers of his generation, Vincent Zandri is the winner of the 2015 PWA Shamus Award and the 2015 ITW Thriller Award, both for MOONLIGHT WEEPS in the Best Original Paperback category. He is also the NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY bestselling author of hundreds of novels, novellas, and stories, including THE REMAINS, MOONLIGHT WEEPS, THE EMBALMER, THE SHROUD KEY and QUIETLY INTO THE NIGHT. His list of domestic publishers includes Delacorte, Dreamscape, Dell, Down & Out Books, Thomas & Mercer, Blackstone Audio, Tantor Media, and more. He is also the CEO of Bear Media. An MFA in Writing graduate of Vermont College, his work is translated in the Dutch, Russian, French, Italian, and Japanese. Having sold over 1 million editions of his books, Zandri has been the subject of major features by the New York Times, Publishers Weekly, and Business Insider. He has also made appearances on Bloomberg TV and the FOX News network. In December 2014, Suspense Magazine named Zandri's, THE SHROUD KEY, as one of the "Best Books of 2014." Suspense Magazine selected WHEN SHADOWS COME as one of the "Best Books of 2016". He was also a finalist for the 2019 Derringer Award for Best Novelette. A freelance photojournalist, freelance writer, and the host of the popular YouTube Podcast, "The Writer's Life," Zandri has written for Strategy Magazine, RT, Living Ready Magazine, New York Newsday, Hudson Valley Magazine, The Times Union (Albany), Game & Fish Magazine, CrimeReads, Altcoin Magazine, The Jerusalem Post, and many more. An Active Member of ITW, he lives in New York and Florence, Italy. For more go to WWW.VINZANDRI.COM

Book preview

Begin your Moonlight journey today with a FREE copy of MOONLIGHT FALLS, the first novel in the Thriller and Shamus Award winning series.

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PRAISE FOR VINCENT ZANDRI

SENSATIONAL . . . MASTERFUL . . . brilliant.

—New York Post

(A) CHILLING TALE OF obsessive love from Thriller Award–winner Zandri (Moonlight Weeps) . . . Riveting.

—Publishers Weekly

. . . OH, WHAT A STORY it is . . . Riveting . . . A terrific old school thriller.

—Booklist Starred Review

"ZANDRI DOES A FANTASTIC job with this story. Not only does he scare the reader, but the horror 

Show he presents also scares the man who is the definition of the word tough.

—Suspense Magazine

I VERY HIGHLY RECOMMEND this book . . . It’s a great crime drama that is full of action and intense suspense, along with some great twists . . . Vincent Zandri has become a huge name and just keeps pouring out one best seller after another.

—Life in Review

(THE INNOCENT) IS A thriller that has depth and substance, wickedness and compassion.

—The Times-Union (Albany)

THE ACTION NEVER WANES.

—Fort Lauderdale Sun-Sentinel

GRITTY, FAST-PACED, lyrical and haunting.

—Harlan Coben, New York Times bestselling author of Six Years

TOUGH, STYLISH, HEARTBREAKING.

—Don Winslow, New York Times bestselling author of Savages and Cartel.

A TIGHTLY CRAFTED, smart, disturbing, elegantly crafted complex thriller . . . I dare you to start it and not keep reading.

—MJ Rose, New York Times bestselling author of Halo Effect and Closure

A CLASSIC SLICE OF raw pulp noir...

—William Landay, New York Times bestselling author of Defending Jacob

ZANDRI (IS) A VETERAN wordsmith who executes quality and quantity at superlative levels.

—Book Reporter

Moonlight Gets Railroaded

A Dick Moonlight PI Thriller

Vincent Zandri

According to preliminary statistics, approximately 1,200 pedestrian rail trespass casualties (fatalities + injuries) occur annually in the U.S. alone.

—The Federal Railroad Administration

1

Igot the call early . Okay, why don’t I just come out and say it? Way too fucking early for me. Picture your loveable narrator, Dick Moonlight, planting his entire head into a metal bucket of ice water just to become somewhat coherent. Thanks, Budweiser. Thanks, Jameson. But this is all beside the point. Thanks to my nasty habit of staying up way past my bedtime getting loaded.

Here’s the deal: Miller rings my cell phone at dark-thirty, not long after I got to sleep (okay, passed out). He’s got a situation that occurred maybe an hour ago on the Amtrak railbed on the Hudson River Line just south of Hudson. There’s a badly mutilated body at the scene, thanks to a train that ran over him. Miller doesn’t have the time or resources to handle it so if I could get, and I quote, my lazy drunk ass out of bed and head down to the crime scene and make a full report on behalf of the APD, it would be greatly appreciated.

Bring Fat Elvis with you, if you want, he added. He’s probably broke too. And two half brains together make one full brain. Or in your cases, almost a full brain.

Why you gotta say things like that? I said, feeling the pounding in my head. Making fun of my fragile, bullet-riddled brain. I could die at any second, you know. You also insinuate I’m not fiscally responsible.

Because I know you like a fucking book, he said. What did you do last night? Stay at Lanie’s for last call?

Maybe, I said. But I don’t have any work. Tomorrow’s Thursday, but it might as well be a Saturday.

Today is Thursday, he said.

Oh, right, I said. It’s five in the morning. How come Hudson cops aren’t handling this or the Staties?

Staties are on the scene, but they discovered the deceased on the train tracks was an Albany native, Miller said. That makes it our business.

The deceased on the train tracks, I said. The victim was murdered?

I don’t know, the chief detective said. That’s why I’m sending you guys down there. To figure that very thing out. Could be he was drunk and just trying to cross the tracks. I’ve seen this kind of thing before. People think they can beat the train, but they can’t.

Forensics on the scene? I asked.

On their way, Miller said. Now if you don’t mind, I’m gonna get another hour of sound sleep knowing my two best, crack private detectives are on the case.

You got a specific address, Miller? I asked.

Just follow the Hudson River Line until you see the fire trucks and the cop cars, he said.

What, no EMS van?

Not a whole lot left of the victim to warrant EMTs and their resources, Miller said.

Train must have done a hell of a job on him, I said trying to imagine the mangled body. Not that it will bother me, being the son of a mortician. 

You have no idea, Miller said.

Oh, goodie, I said.

That’s when he hung up and that’s when I filled a bucket with ice water and drowned my bald head inside of it.

Fast forward to ten minutes later. I’m fully dressed and standing in my kitchenette trying to hold down a cup of black coffee, which I’m using to wash down four Advil. My hands are shaking a little from the DTs, so I add a shot of whiskey to it. Taking another sip, I feel the edge being shaved off my hangover. The ice water and the Advil are helping too.

Maybe I should quit drinking for a little while, I whisper. Give my liver a rest.

I drink some more of the Jameson Irish Whiskey-laced coffee.

Nah, I whisper, deep-sixing my suggestion. I could die at any time. Why ruin the fun I’ve got left?

Picking up my cell phone, I dial Fat Elvis. It rings and rings and rings. As expected, his answering service comes on.

Well, it’s one for the money, two for the show, three to get ready now go cat go, now why don’t you leave a message at the beep...

Great, now I’m gonna have that stupid ass song stuck in my fragile brain all day. Who the hell wears blue suede shoes anyway? I don’t bother with a message since it doesn’t seem like it’s worth the effort. Besides, Elvis’s studio apartment is on the way to Hudson. Sort of, that is. My guess is I’m going to have to break in, yank him out of bed, and toss him into a cold shower.

Storing my phone in the interior pocket of my worn black leather coat, I grab my gun off the nightstand and shove it into my shoulder holster. I make certain I have my wallet, the keys to my Jeep, and extra bullets. I also make sure Manny the Wonder Dog has some food in his bowl and water in the water dish. He’s all set. Besides, I might be back by the time he comes in for breakfast. He does his best hunting during the nighttime hours.

Passing by my empty bed, I say, Don’t wait up, honey.

I don’t know why I say it, but it feels good to say it anyway. Even though I don’t have anyone to call honey anymore and perhaps, never will.

2

Behind the wheel of the Jeep, it dawns on me that I’m still a little drunk. Plus, there was the shot I consumed with my coffee. If the APD were to stop me, it wouldn’t matter to them that I’m on assignment for Chief Homicide Detective Nick Miller. In fact, knowing I’m working for the APD and drunk on the job would only make matters worse. With that in mind, I decide to drive slow and easy as I make my way northbound on Broadway. I also make certain to follow all the rules of the road. There’s almost no one driving the streets and alleyways of old Albany this early in the morning. Only bored cops on patrol.

I breathe a little easier by the time I reach the suburbs of North Albany. There are fewer cops on these roads and the ones who are out are looking forward to finishing their nighttime action shift, popping their first beer, and getting drunk by nine in the morning. They are the