Dig deep for murder, p.1
Dig Deep For Murder, page 1
Also by Bruce Hammack
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The Smiley and McBlythe Mystery Series
Exercise Is Murder, Prequel
Jingle Bells, Rifle Shells,
Pistols And Poinsettias
Five Card Murder
Murder In The Dunes
The Name Game Murder
Murder Down The Line
Vision Of Murder
Mistletoe, Malice And Murder
A Beach To Die For
Dig Deep For Murder
A Killer On Christmas Cay
The Star of Justice Series
Long Road To Justice
A Murder Redeemed
A Grave Secret
Justice On A Midnight Clear
The Fen Maguire Mystery Series
Murder On The Brazos
Murder On The Angelina
Murder On The Guadalupe
Murder On The Wichita
Murder On The San Gabriel
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
A Killer On Christmas Cay Excerpt
From The Author
Also By Bruce Hammack
About The Author
Copyright
1
Heather rubbed her temples as she turned to Steve and lamented, “Work on the project is on hold until the police tape comes down.”
The former Houston homicide detective gave his head a single nod. “That should come as no surprise, and you’re exaggerating. They won’t shut down the entire project, only the street where they found the woman’s body.”
Steve pulled the wooden lever on the side of his recliner and lowered his feet. He rose and moved toward the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” asked Heather.
“Didn’t you hear the flap on the cat door? Max finally woke up and he’ll raise the roof if I don’t feed him. He’s getting more and more demanding the older he gets.” He paused. “Now that I think about it, I am, too.”
“I know what you mean,” said Heather. “I’m a decade and a half behind you and caught myself snapping at the new attorney I hired.”
“Did she deserve it?”
“I thought so. She asked for half a day off because she and her boyfriend have tickets to a concert in Houston. She said I might as well let her off because she’ll likely be too tired and hung over the next morning.”
Steve’s chuckle bounced off the hard surfaces of the kitchen. He spoke loud enough for his voice to travel into the living room of his two-bedroom condo. “Give her the time off. A truthful attorney is hard to find these days.” He chuckled again. “Present company excluded.”
She rose and followed his path into the kitchen. “That was the most backhanded compliment I’ve received in quite a while.”
Steve opened the door to a small pantry. His voice echoed as he asked, “Can you help me? I don’t feel any cans of cat food.”
Heather moved to look. “That’s because you put them on the floor.”
Steve spoke under his breath. “That’s just great. I’m not only blind, but my memory is fading.”
She knew that wasn’t the case. Steve’s mind was sharp as a surgeon’s scalpel. He could remember the most minute details unless something important distracted him. The challenge was getting him to talk about it before he was ready.
Heather waited for his normal change of subject after a self-deprecating statement.
Right on cue, he said, “Tell me about the body they found. The report on the six o’clock news was vague.”
Heather arranged her thoughts as Steve moved out of her way and she unloaded a case of cat food tins onto the proper shelf. “I met Jack for lunch and was halfway through my salad when Lee Cockrell called me. You remember my general contractor, don’t you? He asked us to help him find out what happened to his dog and cat at Christmas.”
“Ah, yes. It started as a simple case of discerning whether one of the guests could have stolen his retriever and his wife’s cat. It morphed into a murder investigation when one of the guests turned up dead. I believe you’re now reaping the reward of ten percent off his contractor’s fee for finding his animals.”
Defensiveness tinged her words. “That should have been a simple night of getting to know the other guests to see if one of them was an animal-napper. How was I to know someone in that group had murder on their mind?”
Steve spoke with emphasis. “We’re back to our agreement of no animal cases and I’m adding no Christmas parties for me.”
“Anyway, back to what happened today. By the time I arrived, deputies and state police had the street leading into the subdivision blocked off. I talked my way into the area, but not onto the street where they found the body.”
“Not surprising,” said Steve.
“Lee met me and said detectives had already questioned him. It seems Lee’s son, Clay, was running an excavator when he uncovered the body.”
“Did they take Clay in for questioning?”
“They’d hauled him away by the time I got there.”
“Did you tell Lee to get his son an attorney?”
“I told him to call Jack.”
“Why was Clay digging there?”
“Concrete drainage lines. They didn’t bury a short section deep enough. As construction mistakes go, it wasn’t a big deal, and it wasn’t Clay’s fault. His father told him where to dig the trench and how deep, so that’s what he did.”
“When did he put in the line?”
“Almost two months ago.”
“That would make it the end of January.” He added, “It may take a while to establish the victim’s identity if they didn’t wrap the body in a tarp or something similar.”
An insistent meow came from the giant ball of black fur at their feet. Max, Heather’s chubby Maine Coon cat, looked up with eyes that telegraphed impatience.
Heather moved to the cabinet and took down a clean bowl for his food. “I’m sorry, Max. Steve fell down on his job tonight. Don’t worry, your momma will feed you.”
Steve said something unintelligible under his breath. He followed it with, “Don’t blame me if he missed lunch. He’s been next door in your condo all afternoon and evening. All he had to do was come through the pet door and ask.”
“It’s good that he didn’t. You wouldn’t have found his food.”
Steve mumbled again, which was out of character and confirmed that something else was on his mind.
Before she could explore what was bothering him, he asked, “Have you talked to Jack since lunch?”
Heather opened the tin of cat food and scooped it into a bowl. She spoke as Max rubbed his face against her leg. “I called him this afternoon. He’s been interviewing candidates to replace his mother. It’s going to take a full-time receptionist and a paralegal to fill her shoes. Another attorney would also be a good idea, but I haven’t mentioned that yet.”
“I thought he had a receptionist.”
Heather placed the bowl on the floor and gave Max a stroke down his arched back. “She didn’t work out. It seems she had designs on Jack, not the job.”
“Ah. Not good.” Steve quickly changed the subject. “How’s Briann adjusting to her new life?”
“Not great. I can’t imagine how tough it’s been for her to lose her mother and having to move in with a father she didn’t know existed. If it weren’t for Cora taking her grandmother role seriously, I’m not sure what Briann would do.”
“Add to that the rejection she must feel because none of her relatives in Louisiana would take her in.”
Heather lamented, “I was so careful to never date a man who’d been married or had a child. That hasn’t worked out so well, has it?”
Steve ran a hand down his face. “We make our plans, then life comes along and changes them.”
Heather considered the man in front of her who spoke from experience. His career as a homicide detective and going home to his wife every night ended in a Houston parking lot when drug-addled thieves jumped them. The attack ended Maggie's life, and left Steve for dead. He survived but lost his sight and so much more.
Compared to what Steve had lost, a delay in her relationship with Jack seemed trivial. She shook off the introspection.
Steve’s next question helped her to refocus. “How is Briann adjusting to her new
“That’s one of those good news, bad news stories. Her mom was a talented attorney and Briann’s role model. She’s coping with her mother’s death through perfectionism. Not only does she make top grades, she does so to the exclusion of everything else. Absolutely no social life.”
“Give her time,” said Steve. “She’s only twelve.” He lifted his chin. “Are you sure she wants to become a lawyer like her mother?”
“According to Jack, it’s an obsession.”
Heather knew it wasn’t an idle question. He’d been thinking about Briann and Jack’s situation. Even though he didn’t have children of his own, Steve had a knack for helping families find win-win solutions.
His next question verified her suspicions. “What’s your plan?”
She tilted her head. “I don’t have one, but you obviously do. What is it?”
“Right now, you’re a role model for Briann, but you’re dating her father. That means she admires you and resents you at the same time. Give her another role model.”
Heather let out a huff. “Sometimes you’re so obtuse I can’t follow.”
Steve lifted his chin. “What does Jack need most in his practice, a paralegal or another attorney?”
“Both. He’s the best defense attorney in the county and turns away a ton of potential clients.”
Steve rubbed his hands together like a mad scientist. “Here’s a plan you can take to him. Any or all of those you mentioned would free him to spend time with his daughter, plus increase profits. If Briann wants to hang out in a law office, let her. She can start as a helper to the secretary and paralegal. If she’s as smart as you say, she’ll soon be an asset to Jack’s practice.”
Heather looked for holes in Steve’s plan as he kept talking.
“If you help him hire those three, you can choose women who’ll be good role models for Briann. You’re used to hiring and firing people. Jack isn’t.”
“That’s true. He’s always been a one-man shop, except for his mother.”
Steve spoke with confidence. “Everything changed when he found out he had a child. He might as well go all the way and expand his practice. It’s the only way he’ll have time to be a dad.”
Heather whispered, “Consequences.”
“What?”
She raised her voice. “Consequences of our actions bring about changes.”
He nodded in agreement.
Heather ran the plan through her mind, looking for flaws. There were several, but the benefits outweighed the potential deficits. “I’ll take your plan under advisement and sleep on it tonight.”
“Smart move,” said Steve. “I hate to admit it, but my plans for other people’s lives don’t always work out. That also applies to some of my own plans.”
This was the opening Heather had waited for. “Does that include whatever has you distracted tonight?”
He lowered his voice. “Was it that obvious?”
Heather didn’t want to sound too condescending. “The misplaced cat food gave you away.” She added, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Might as well.” His pause told her he was collecting his thoughts. “I received a phone call from Kate today.”
Heather’s mind shifted to Miami, Florida, which was the home of Steve’s former writing coach and editor, Kate Bridges. She was also the closest thing to a romantic interest Steve had had since his wife died.
Steve continued, “Kate called to congratulate me on publishing my short stories under a pen name.”
The information stung Heather like a wasp. “Why didn’t you tell me you were publishing your stories? You and your secrets will be the death of me.”
Steve held up his hands for her to stop. “I didn’t tell you because I never considered using a pen name.”
Heather was glad he couldn’t see her lower jaw drop. “Are you telling me someone stole your work?”
“It appears so.”
“Don’t say another word,” said Heather. “I’m making us each a mug of tea and we’re going into the living room, where you’ll give me the details.”
2
Heather filled two mugs with water and placed them in the microwave. She then retrieved two tea bags from the cabinet. Her goal was to take some time doing a mundane task in order to bring her anger under control. She failed. The more she thought about someone pirating Steve’s stories of his days as a homicide detective, the more her blood boiled.
While she stewed, Steve went into the living room. She called out, “I’m going next door for a legal pad.”
Steve didn’t reply, which meant he was arranging his thoughts to give her his version of the events leading up to the theft. She looked down at Max, whose wide head was still in his bowl. “Stay here, Max. I’ll be right back.”
A phone call from Jack showed on her phone as she opened the door to her condo. “Can I call you back?” she said before he could utter a word.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’ll tell you when I know more.”
“It sounds like we both have problems.”
She promised to call him back. With the door thrown open, she made quick steps to the kitchen bar and retrieved a legal pad from her valise.
In mere seconds, she returned and lowered herself onto Steve’s couch with pen and paper in hand. Steve sat in his recliner with feet flat on the floor.
“I’m ready. How did this happen?” said Heather.
“After Kate and I realized we needed to take a break from our friendship, as well as our author/editor relationship, I found a guy who was publishing books for other people to be my coach.”
“I remember you telling me about him. Isn’t his name Buck?”
“Bucky. Bucky Franklin. I chose him because he’s nearby, knows Houston, and is a former cop.”
Heather looked over at Max as he entered the room, settled onto the carpet, and began the post-supper ritual of licking his paws and washing his face.
“Bath time?” asked Steve.
Steve’s hearing was a constant amazement to her. He always seemed to know what was going on around him. “Don’t worry about Max. Tell me about Bucky.”
“When I hired him, he asked me to email all my stories to him. He wanted to study my level of competency as a writer.”
“When was this?”
“I’ll need to check the exact date, but it’s on my computer.”
“Do you have a contract with him?”
“No.”
Heather allowed a huff of exasperation to escape, but didn’t chide him. She’d save that for a time when she wasn’t so angry.
“Tell me about your phone call with Kate.”
Steve pulled the lever on the side of his chair and his feet rose. “She called this afternoon about two. Someone told her about a new book of short stories from a Houston cop. The person who contacted Kate knew about me and told her to check it out. She did and immediately recognized the stories. After all, she taught me how to write them.”
Heather jotted down notes and practiced breathing techniques to release stress.
Steve folded his hands in his lap. “That’s the short version. What can I do about it?”
She tapped her Mont Blanc pen on the legal pad. “My initial thought is to find a hit man and put Bucky in the Houston ship channel wearing concrete boots.”
Steve’s belly jiggled. “That might be a little extreme.”
“How about I make him regret the day he was born?”
“I can live with that.”
“Let’s call Kate,” said Heather.
Steve held up a hand. “Do that without me. I didn’t know she had such an extensive vocabulary until I told her Bucky published my work without my permission.” He heaved a sigh. “She blamed herself for not helping me publish them and started crying. If you would, tell her I don’t blame her. This is my fault for not insisting on a contract.”
