All due respect 2021, p.13
All Due Respect 2021, page 13
He got up and peered into a mirror by the front entrance. Blood caked under his nose and onto his torn shirt collar. His right eye was an egg; his lip busted and split. He touched thumb and forefinger to a front tooth, and he could swear it felt loose.
“Fucking psychos,” he muttered. “And what was with that fucking useless cop?”
This was his third strike in a month up in Hudson Valley, and though the other old timers hadn’t devolved into violence, none took kindly to his offer either.
“Buncha goddamned hillbillies,” he said to himself.
You can’t fight progress, he thought, even as he winced and clutched his bruised ribs that proved otherwise.
Jay Butkowski is a writer of crime fiction and an eater of tacos who lives in New Jersey. His short stories have appeared in various online and print publications, including Shotgun Honey, Yellow Mama, All Due Respect, and Vautrin. He is the Managing Editor and one of the co-founders of Rock and a Hard Place Press, an independent publisher of noir chronicling “bad decisions and desperate people” in short and longer format fiction, as well as in the flagship Rock and a Hard Place Magazine. He’s also a father of twins, a doting fiancé, and a middling pancake chef.
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Here is a preview from Person Unknown, a psychological thriller by Michael Penncavage, published by All Due Respect, an imprint of Down & Out Books.
Click here for a complete catalog of titles available from Down & Out Books and its divisions and imprints.
CHAPTER 1
The alarm clock went off with a shrill that made a fire engine’s siren sound feeble in comparison. My eyes still closed, I swung my arm out across the bed, making a fist in midair. My knuckles made direct contact with the small plastic box. The clock bounced on the nightstand from the force of the blow, flipped over, and had the good sense to remain silent.
I leaned up in bed and rubbed my brow. The scotch and sodas from the night before were still hanging heavy over me.
The bed sheets rustled gently beside me. A faint lingering of ginger perfume trickled past my nostrils as a well-manicured hand brushed against my leg. “Don’t leave. Not yet,” said Trish in a soft murmur as she pulled the sheets up closer to her head. “Just another half hour.”
I shook my head. “I’m on a tight timeline. My flight from Kansas City is landing in fifteen minutes. A thirty-minute car ride puts me home at seven a.m.”
“Planes get delayed, Steve.”
“Not when you can check the status online. And Kathy is the type of person who would do just that.”
Her fingernails traced gently against my back. “Thirty minutes,” she whispered. “I’ll make it worth your time. I’m horny.”
“After last night, I don’t see how that’s possible.” I stretched my arms over my head and found it to be an experiment in pain. The previous night’s bedroom activities had been more athletic than usual, even for Trish. Cuffs had been used and the positions involved enough dexterity to make someone ten years younger wince.
I glanced over at the clock again. The bold, block numbers read 7:02. An extra thirty minutes would do little to help the muscles but would do a world of good in clearing the fog from my head. As if reading my mind, I suddenly felt Trish’s arm making its way across my stomach, its final destination all too apparent.
I jumped out of the bed. “Whoa! Down girl!”
The chair in the corner of the room contained my rumpled mess of clothing. I put on my pants, buttoned up my shirt, and tossed on my blazer. The mirror did a splendid job of reflecting my five o’clock shadow and sullen eyes.
“How do I look?”
Trish opened her eyes for a moment before throwing the sheets over her head. “Like shit,” she said, her voice muffled.
“Excellent!” I walked over to the bed and, trying to judge where her butt was, gave her a slap through the sheets.
“Hey! Cut that out!”
“I’ll give you a call.”
“Whatever.”
Even though it was still early in the morning, the streets were bustling with the morning rush-hour traffic. My cab was idling in the carport outside the apartment lobby. The driver looked even more disheveled than me.
“Where to?” he grumbled as I opened the door.
“West 81st Street and Central Park West.”
The car sped off. I looked at my watch. 7:21.
Barring any traffic, I was right on schedule.
I settled into the car seat and smiled.
Damn, I’m good.
Colonial-style homes soon replaced apartment buildings. Driveways replaced doormen.
“You know the temperature today?”
The cabby glanced at me in the rearview mirror as he slowed and signaled left. “It’s going to be a scorcher. Going up to ninety.” He glanced out the side of the window. “One-twenty Piedmont. Right?”
I nodded. “No need to pull up the driveway.”
The driver nodded and glanced at the fare meter. “Thirty-four fifty.”
I handed him two twenties. “Keep the change.”
The driver smiled. “You have yourself a real relaxing day.”
CHAPTER 2
Lilacs greeted me as I passed through the front door. On the center pedestal, the bouquet was arranged in a vase I had purchased during business a trip to Shenzhen the previous summer. My shoes clicked loudly on the tile floor of the entranceway. I slipped them off.
A pair of thickly carpeted staircases wound up along each wall to the second floor. While I usually picked the one on the right to go up, I felt a change of pace was necessary and chose the other staircase. The carpet’s plushness felt good between my toes.
I heard the faint trickling of water as I reached the top of the stairs. The beige carpet continued throughout the second floor, silencing my footsteps as I made my way to the master bedroom. The sound of running water was stronger here. It was coming from the shower.
The bedroom had a sitting room complete with a couch, chairs, and a coffee table. I stripped down and tossed my clothes into the hamper.
The tiled bathroom floor felt cold beneath my bare feet. While the glass panels of the shower stall were steamed up, I could still make out the outline of a familiar-looking athletic body through the glass.
I tugged the door open and stepped inside.
“I’m home.”
Kathy, who was in the middle of washing her face, spun around, and had to throw her hand over her mouth to prevent from screaming.
“Jesus! You scared the hell out of me!”
I took a step forward. The hot water against my sore muscles felt unbelievable. I leaned down and let the water pour over my head. “I missed you too.”
Kathy rinsed the remaining soap off her face. All I could do was take a step back to admire my wife as the water cascaded down her body. Kathy loved going to the gym and boy did it show. “Well,” she answered, finally. “You couldn’t have waited outside?”
I took a step forward. “I was curious to see just how much you missed me.” I pressed myself up against her. “And I think you can tell how much I missed you.”
“My, my.” She said looking down at me. “Aren’t we a little worked up for so early in the morning?”
“What can I say? Airplane trips cause my testosterone levels to rise.”
“That’s probably from you staring up the skirts of all the young stewardesses.”
I grinned as I took a step closer to her. “That could be the reason.”
“I have a meeting at ten. And I’m running late.”
I hooked my foot around her leg and used my leverage to separate her feet slightly. “In that case I’ll make sure that I’m quick.”
A grin fell over Kathy’s face. “No. That’s all right. I can reschedule the meeting. You can take all the time you want.”
CHAPTER 3
“Don’t take it the wrong way, but you look like hell,” Kathy said from her closet as she tried to pick a dress to wear.
I stood in my own closet, somewhat smaller than hers, as I buttoned up a fresh shirt. “They don’t call it the red eye for nothing. And you haven’t been the first person to comment on my appearance today.” I quickly realized that I was drifting into dangerous territory. “Even the cabbie was critical of how I looked.”
“You should rest a little before you go into work.”
“I’m fine.” I ran the lint brush over my pants. “But I have to say, for someone who hasn’t done any traveling, you look just as tired as me.”
Silence greeted me for a moment. “You haven’t been the only one who’s been busy.”
“You put in a long day last night?” I asked.
“You would know the answer to that question if you had bothered calling me.”
I peered out of my closet. “Ouch. That one hurt.”
Kathy stepped into view. “I’m just telling it like it is. All I’m also saying is that a little courtesy call before you got on the plane this morning would have been nice.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you. I was having drinks with my clients in the hotel bar and lost track of time.” And the acting award goes to Steve Harrison.
“That’s fine. I just wish you kept your priorities in better order sometimes.”
“How many I’m sorrys will it take for forgiveness?” I stepped back into the closet. I ran my fingers over my selection of ties. I chose the solid red one. Not quite fire engine red but still plenty bold. My power tie.
“What time is your last meeting today?”
“I should be home by six o’clock if all goes well.”
“Well, you can make it up to me at dinner.”
“Sure. You feel like going out tonight?”
Kathy stepped into view. She was wearing a dark blue business suit and matching high heels. “Yes, dinner before the play.” A hint of anger blended into her voice. “You didn’t forget about the play tonight, did you?”
“What play?”
She folded her arms and gave me a glare that could have cut through the sheetrock behind me. “We’re seeing The Producers. Eight o’clock showing at the Dumont Theater.”
“We are?”
“Steve!”
I knotted my tie and chuckled. “Just kidding. I didn’t forget. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Kathy began brushing her hair as she walked toward the bathroom. “You know how long I’ve been waiting to see it.”
“I know. I know. I won’t be late.” While still inside the closet, I shut the door. A full-sized mirror was on the opposite side, allowing me to size myself up. It was amazing what a fresh set of clothes, a shower, and a shave could accomplish. I grinned at myself from ear to ear.
I looked good.
Damn good.
CHAPTER 4
Classical music played through the elevator’s speakers, droning out the hums of the machines’ motors. The LED indicator above the door flashed my floor and the elevator’s momentum began to slow. I gripped my attaché case as the doors separated with a gentle ping. As I stepped out onto my floor the classical music drifted into the background, succumbing to the chaos that lay before me.
People hurried past me. Some were in deep conversation. Others were on their phones.
Peter Jones, one of my compliance directors, nodded as he walked by. “Morning, Steve.”
“Good morning, Pete.”
Like I was running the gauntlet, I strode down the hallway as people continued to bustle by me. My office door was in sight. To think that I was actually going to make it there without anyone stopping me...
“Steve!” said a familiar voice.
Without even turning my head I recognized who it was. “Larry.” I turned to face the man. Worry covered his wrinkled face. While we were roughly the same age, the balding, graying head, along with the sallow cheeks, made Larry look at least ten years older than me. A three-ring binder was clutched in his hand so tightly I could see the whites of his knuckles. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m glad you’re here. We’ve got a problem. A serious problem.”
I shook my head. The wall clock read 9:15 a.m. “Only minor inconveniences happen before the market opens. Serious problems don’t occur until after 9:30 a.m.”
My comment didn’t seem to console him. “It’s a holdover from yesterday.”
I held up my attaché, trying my best to keep my temper under control. “You see this? This is my briefcase. I’m still holding it because I haven’t gotten to my office yet. I haven’t glanced at the Financial Times. I haven’t even had my first a cup of coffee.”
I took a step forward but Larry sidestepped me to block my path. “He’s in your office.”
“Who is in my office?”
“Saul Rubenstein.”
It took me a moment to make name recognition. Once I did it felt like my alcohol-induced headache from Trish’s was nothing more than a nuisance, for deep in back of my head I felt a whopper of migraine begin to percolate. “The COO of Paulson Tires? I thought they were severing relations with us.”
Larry nodded sullenly. “Yes. They still are.”
I placed my attaché case onto the floor and crossed my arms. “All right. Since my office is no longer an option we might as well just have our conversation right here. Let’s have it.”
Larry rubbed his brow before he began. “It happened yesterday. Right at the market close. Paulson Tires called in an order to transfer sixty thousand shares of Fraden Oil securities to his company’s new provider.”
“So what happened?”
“It seems the order was misunderstood.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“The clerk who took the order was aware that we were ending our relationship with Paulson and put the order in to sell the shares instead.”
“When did you find out about it?”
“Last night while we were auditing the day’s transactions.”
“You bought back the shares?”
“The order is in. It will go through once the market opens.”
Larry’s face didn’t look any more relieved. That meant only one thing. “What is it currently trading for?”
“Pre market…$57.10 a share.”
“What was it when you sold?”
“$61.25. A four-dollar-per-share delta.”
“Dumping sixty thousand shares will do that to a stock value, Larry!” I began rubbing my brow in a feeble attempt to ward off the migraine. “There’s supposed to be safeguards in place to prevent this type of thing from happening. Managers are supposed to approve all large transactions. Jumbo transactions are supposed to be reviewed and approved by a director.”
“I’m personally dealing with all of the people who were involved.”
“This was a jumbo transaction. Which director approved it?”
He looked at me with fear in his eyes. He didn’t answer the question.
I glanced at my office door and ran my hand through my hair. I felt a few strands go on me. “So Saul is in my office alone?”
“Yes. He’s been there for about a half hour. Told me that he wasn’t leaving until he spoke to you personally.”
I thought about that for a moment. “Retract the order.”
That wasn’t what Larry was expecting to hear from me. “Excuse me?”
“Retract the order. I don’t want it going through.”
“But the stock price might continue to fall if we wait.”
“There’s no way in hell I’m going to allow a quarter million write-off to occur, Larry!”
Larry shook his head. “We made the mistake, Steve. The call that Saul’s company placed was recorded. We played it back and confirmed it. There’s no middle ground here.”
“There’s always middle ground. There’s always room for negotiation.” I bent down and picked up my attaché case. I brushed my suit jacket as I turned to Larry. “How’s my tie?”
“What?”
“My tie. Is it straight?”
“Um. No.”
“How about the hair?”
“It’s fine.”
“Are you sure? The wind was a little strong walking into the building.”
Larry studied my head for a moment as if he was trying to decipher ancient hieroglyphics. “No. Looks good.”
I walked toward my office door. “Let’s go.”
“What are you going to do?”
“What we are going to do is fix this, Larry,” I said, glaring at him. “But not a word from you. Just watch and learn. Am I clear?”
He nodded. I opened my office door. We stepped inside.
Click here to learn more about Person Unknown by Michael Penncavage.
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Here is a preview from Holland Bay, a crime novel by Jim Winter.
Click here for a complete catalog of titles available from Down & Out Books and its divisions and imprints.
Chapter 1
Five people tried to hire Armand Cole to drive them home on the night he made his first kill. His employers gave him an old Ford Fusion, spray-painted yellow, a bogus number stenciled on the side, and a pizza-car sign on top with all the decals scraped off. Armand kept the sign unplugged to appear off-duty. That did not matter. With temperatures plunging, the only thing people saw was a yellow car with its motor running.
It never occurred to Armand that “off-duty” cabs only sat idling downtown near the hotels off Gotham Square. His only instructions had been to “blend in” while he waited outside Skip’s, a bar in Huron Junction, for the Super Bowl to end.
