Deceitful Moon

Deceitful Moon
© 201
1
Rick Murcer

All rights reserved

www.rickmurcer.com

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For my wife Carrie, who still believes in me.

For JC, who loves me and keeps me on the path
;
I’m grateful.

To Jessie, Sarah, Marie, and
David
for being the best editing team ever.

To Josh and Buzz . . .
this is for you.

C
hapter
-1

“Hey Manny, hear the one about the pig, the priest, and the chicken?”

Detective Manny Williams rolled his eyes and turned toward Sophie Lee, his partner. She was slouched in her chair, looking at the screen of her laptop, wearing that smartass look she wore when she was bored. The diminutive, Chinese
-American
cop reminded him of his fifteen
-
year-old daughter when she moped around the house complaining there was nothing to do. Manny would point out
that
her room needed cleaning, but apparently that wasn’t something
“
to do.
”

“No
,
Sophie, I haven’t. And would it matter?”

“Nope. I’m going to tell you anyway.”

“Am I going to laugh?”

“Don’t know. I just need to tell it.”

“How are you coming on that report?”

“Don’t change the subject. You’re not gettin’ out of it that easy. Besides, I don’t do B&E reports.”

“You do now; at least until someone in our fair city decides murder is their God-given right.”

“Whatever.” Sophie sighed.

Manny knew how she felt.
Once you worked homicide, nothing else came close
. Some people thought
homicide detectives
were a little crazy
;
hell maybe that was true, but t
here was no substitute for putting a
killer
away,
not to mention
the
thrill of the
chase.
It was like comparing Boone’s Farm to Dom
Pérignon
. . .
and this busywork
of writing and filing reports
was driving them both insane.

Maybe he should consider that other offer. The pay was way better and there was no shortage of work with the
FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.
He was pretty sure they didn’t do B&E paperwork either.
But would it take him away from his family even more?

“Okay. Tell me.”

“Okay
,
tell you what?”

“Tell me about the pig, the priest, and the chicken.”

“Nah.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t think you’d get it. You’re all blue-eyed and
blond
, not Chinese.”

“Remind me to kick your ass later.”

“Yeah, like I’m going to do that. I just live for having my butt kicked.”

“No problem. I’ll remember on my own.”

“At your age?
Pssfftt
. I’m safe.”

“Oh, I won’t forget. Trust me.”

“It’s because men can’t get me off their minds, isn’t it? Admit it.”
Sophie winked and blew him a kiss.

Manny caught it
,
put it in his pocket
,
and winked back. It was amazingly good to see her bouncing back to her former self. The whole thing on the cruise ship three months ago had affected them all, maybe for a lifetime. Sophie had not only lost a good friend in
the
murdered
Lansing DA
,
Liz Casnovsky
,
to
a
psychopath
,
but she
had
lost an ex-lover as well.
Sophie’s
affair
had
just happened to be with Liz’s husband Lynn. That kind of guilt and remorse would put anyone in a different place.
Manny
knew about those different places.

The first two months back had been tough, but she was reverting back to her old persona, even though that meant she was going to be a pain in the ass from
time
to
time
. Some types of pain are just worth it.

Argyle. He was still out there, and that fact made Manny more than a little nervous. The
psychotic doctor
had left bodies strewn all over the Caribbean and
then
disappeared after they had tracked him from Aruba to New York.
Manny’s
newfound friend, Special Agent Josh Corner, claimed the FBI had
Argyle
high on
its
radar and was monitoring
the
G
ood
D
octor’s
every known contact and source
. B
ut
Argyle
was clever, wealthy, and worse, the most ruthless killer Manny had ever encountered. Not a good combination.

T
hat wasn’t all. Argyle had put them all on notice that the books weren’t balanced, and there were more paybacks coming to the Lansing law enforcement family. It was a promise that triggered some sleepless nights
for Manny
and added more fuel to
his
workaholic streak
. Manny
wanted no more of the pain and loss he’d suffered on the
Ocean Duchess
.

The time was coming when they would meet again. Argyle seemingly controlled when that encounter would happen. Manny would try to be ready.

Meanwhile, there had been extra security put into place surrounding the families involved in the cruise ship incidents
,
and they were doing all they could. He hoped it was enough.

“Al
l
right, I’m done with this report. Where do I stick it
?
” panned Sophie.

“You can’t figure that out? I’m going to have to
–
”

The phone on Manny’s desk rang. He looked at the number and quickly snatched the headset fr
om its cradle. “Williams here.”

Manny listened
, t
hen hung up without speaking. He stood, ran his hand through his hair
(an old nervous habit from his teen years)
,
tightened his shoulder holster, and motioned to Sophie. “No more reports for you
or me
today. We
’ve
got a dead parolee
,
and it ain’t pretty. Let’s go.”

Chapter
-2

Eric Hayes knew
he wasn’t alone in the dark. The duct tape over his mouth and eyes proved to be efficient enough, but he heard his captor. Worse, his captor heard him. He knew the large man was staring at him from the other side of the small table situated in the middle of the suite on the ship’s eleventh deck. Eric was sure
his captor
had taken great pleasure in his attempt to demand and even coerce his freedom. Eric’s angry
actions
had evolved to desperate
, silent
screams
.
T
hen, as harsh reality showed its aberrant face, terror-stricken sobs had forced him to hold hands with helplessness. Lastly came a
hushed
acceptance that was somehow more terrifying than the act of being bound in a chair at the whim of a maniacal stranger
, a
ll
his pleas
smothered by the gagging effects of the tape.

The strong man doubling as his jailer had planned
t
his attack well.

Eric never could resist a story, or the thought of one, and the mysterious note had assured him that if he came to this stateroom at the proper time, he would be part of
a blockbuster story
that would make him famous
—
more than famous, a household name
. He didn’t know what that meant
for sure, but the
cruise ship
was
docked in St. Thomas for the day
,
so
how could he ignore a guarantee like that? It was like promising dope to a junkie, and he had chased the promise like
an addict
.

One giant hand over his face, a rag immersed in chloroform
,
and
voilà
, instant prisoner.

My God, he was still so naïve.

Eric, for the hundredth time, speculated
about
the purpose, and maybe more importantly, the reason
,
for being
bound in this room.

Did this
glimpse
into
hell
have anything to do with his career as a small-town reporter for the
Lansing Post
? He would be a liar
—
any reporter would
—
if he
said he didn’t worry about writing something, somewhere down the line
that would offend someone to the point of repercussion. The public was as fickle as any weather forecast, and even in the land of the free, you had to watch your ass.