One shot @ retirement a.., p.1
One Shot @ Retirement: A Macy Cooper Mystery, page 1
One Shot @ Retirement
A Macy Cooper Mystery
D. K. Wilcox
One Shot @ Retirement
Copyright © 2023 by D. K. Wilcox. All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, please email D. K. Wilcox at RodgersCreekPress@gmail.com
Published by Rodgers Creek Press, LLC.
Book Cover Design by EbookLaunch.com
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN: 978-1-7332124-0-3
1. Mystery - Thriller
2. Fiction - General
Created with Vellum
Dedicated to those who work tirelessly, and too often make the ultimate sacrifice, to defend this country from foreign and domestic aggression.
Chapter One
2012
Macy sat on the edge of the chair, staring at the rifle that lay across an open case on the bed. She knew she couldn’t stay long, that someone might be searching for her at this very moment, but she had to gather her thoughts. She never used to have problems when she hit her target; she could fire a single shot, pack up and leave quietly. But now she was older, and she gave more thought to her profession and thinking was dangerous for an assassin.
Casting her thoughts aside, Macy rose, walked over to the bed, and picked up the gun. She quickly and carefully disassembled it placing each piece neatly in the carrying case, closed the lid and secured the locking flanges. She straightened her shirt and pushed a lock of hair from her face then looked around the empty hotel room. She had only brought the gray-molded gun case and had touched nothing except the wooden window sash and door handles, which she had carefully wiped off with her scarf.
Macy picked up the case and moved to the door, opening it slightly to peek out. The hall was empty, so she headed towards the stairwell. Quietly descending two flights, she exited to the fourth floor and walked down the hallway to Room 412, which faced the other side of the hotel. She slid her keycard into the door lock, heard the familiar click, and entered. Macy closed the door and leaned against it, taking a deep breath as the sound of approaching sirens grew louder as they came closer. She knew the hotel would soon be filled with the polizia searching for a lone sniper, in all probability a male, but they would be looking at the floors above her and the exits. If they came to her room, she would play the frightened, middle-aged female.
Macy carefully placed the gun case in her large suitcase on the bed closest to the window and covered the smaller case with stacks of clothes she’d laid out earlier. She walked to the bathroom, turned on the shower and undressed. As steam misted the large plate glass mirror on the wall, Macy leaned forward trying to decide if she indeed had aged. Wrinkles emanated from the outside corners of her eyes, and she had laugh lines, but she felt even now she looked good for a woman of 50. She still weighed 110 pounds, not bad for a 5’4” frame. Half a century, she thought, and then her mind circled back to her profession. It had taken her all over the world and she had enjoyed the income and the travel, but now, perhaps it was time to retire. She smiled at her reflection. “Happy Birthday, Macy Cooper.”
Chapter 2
Four months later
In the corner of the crowded restaurant, Macy sat sipping her water and waited. Finally, she saw a familiar face walking towards her. A man, well over six feet tall, athletic build and wearing a dark pinstriped suit, was making his way around the tables and customers.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, dropping down into the chair opposite her. “DC traffic at this time of day is a bear.”
“And I don’t miss it at all,” Macy replied with a slight grin.
“And I see you still prefer a seat against the wall.”
“It’s always best to be cautious,” she said, smiling. “Besides, I liked watching you maneuver through all those people. It’s good to see you again, Aaron. I’m glad you could come.”
“How could I resist!” he replied with a wide smile. “You’re my favorite consultant, shall we say, and I miss our little chats.”
Macy grinned. “More like bickering, I’d say. So, how’s business?”
A young waitress came to the table with a glass of water for Aaron. “May I get your drink orders, please,” she said, all the while smiling at Aaron and never meeting Macy’s eyes.
“I’ll have iced tea please,” Macy replied.
Aaron nodded. “The same for me.”
Once the waitress was out of earshot, Aaron leaned forward, not having noticed the waitress’s interest in him at all. “Business is good. I’ve got a couple of contracts if you’re interested, one in Europe and the other on a small island over in the Pacific. Both very nice places, easy in and out.”
Macy shook her head. “You know I’m not interested.”
“Yeah. I was in Bangkok when I heard you’d retired. I couldn’t believe it! How long has it been?” he said, sitting back.
“Four months!” Macy announced proudly, with a knowing grin. “I always said I would retire when I hit 50.”
“Was that 50 kills or 50 years of age?” Aaron asked jokingly taking a sip of water.
Macy leaned back not finding the humor in it. He knew she had reached 50 kills some time ago and she didn’t feel it was something to brag about.
“I recognize that look,” he said apologetically. “We won’t discuss it anymore. But now that you’ve… retired… what’re you going to do with the rest of your life? Travel, start a business, marry?”
The waitress returned with their drinks and a basket of breadsticks. She took their lunch order and as she left, Aaron turned to watch her walk away, her hips moving fluidly in a tight skirt halfway up her thighs. He returned to Macy who was watching him watch the waitress. He picked up a breadstick and nibbled on it.
Macy grinned. “It’s good to see some things haven’t changed.”
“I’ll have you know I’m in a serious relationship now, but it still doesn’t hurt to look.” Stirring sweetener into his tea, Aaron grinned and drank. He picked up another breadstick and tapped it against the glass. “So, where were we, oh, yeah, you were going to explain what you’re going to do with the second half of your life!”
Macy thought for a moment. “Well, I’ve had all the traveling one person could handle in a lifetime and I have no business interests. I tried marriage and don’t care to repeat that, so I guess I’m finally going to settle down. I bought a house in a small community called Landen, a couple of hours north of here in Pennsylvania.”
Aaron laughed. “You, settling down? That’s like saying I would never look at another woman. What a crock!”
Macy shook her head and ignored the remark. “Actually, I’m not sure what I’m going to do. I want to relax and see what it’s like to live a normal life, maybe cook… do some gardening. I might even take up a craft!” She smiled at the thought of sitting on her front porch with a cup of coffee and looking out over a well-manicured yard she herself had nurtured.
Aaron nearly choked on a pencil-sized piece of bread. “You? Taking up a craft! Holy cow Mac, what are you going to do, maybe some fucking needlepoint or quilting?”
Macy did not appreciate the humor once more and leaned forward, her eyes narrowed and whispered, “Watch yourself, Aaron.”
Aaron readjusted his seating, briefly unnerved. “Do you hear yourself? You’re a woman of the world, an adventurer, an…”
“Yep, and now, I’m going to try a different type of adventure.”
“You won’t last more than six months,” he replied, “… maybe a few more at most. You wait, next year this time you’ll be begging me for a contract.”
Macy sat back and stated firmly, “I’m not going back. It’s over, Aaron.”
The waitress returned with their food and placed a check on the table. On the back of the receipt were her name and phone number. Aaron smiled up at her and winked.
Chapter Three
Macy parked in the street and gazed at her new home, a 1906 Foursquare red brick house with a welcoming front porch. She was extremely pleased with her middle-class neighborhood of historic homes although a few newer homes were interspersed here and there. She could have afforded more, much more, but she wanted to keep a low profile and she felt large expensive homes were too conspicuous. To her, this was how real people lived and she had a deep desire, a longing, to have a normal existence.
Pulling into the driveway, she slid out of her SUV and instinctually began surveying the area. A 2004 black Chevy truck, license tag Golf November-34225 passed traveling westbound. At the end of a driveway 100 meters to her three o’clock, two women were standing and talking, one of whom was bouncing a small child on her hip. Four of the houses within eyeshot had someone home; a house catty-cornered from her had loud music playing. A few clouds occasionally blocked the sun, humidity was low, and the wind speed was about two knots from the Northeast. Macy looked down to the ground, scuffing the sole of her shoe back and forth against the concrete driveway, and shaking her head. Old habits would be hard to break, she knew, but this was her neighborhood now and she scolded herself for scoping out her surroundings.
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She’d only been in the house one other time on the day the realtor had given her a tour, but she knew immediately this was how she wanted to retire. The house was tastefully furnished and with a few exceptions had everything one would need to move in and be immediately settled. Although she had the ability to memorize the layout of any structure after seeing it only once, Macy decided to do another walk through and admire what was now hers. She entered into a large foyer, its hardwood floors extending straight ahead down a long hallway to the back of the house. A clothes closet was to her immediate left and she placed her suitcases inside and shut the door. The doorway to her right led to a large living room and to its back Macy remembered a study or music room, which she would check out more carefully later. A stairway next to the living room led to the second floor.
A curved archway to Macy’s left opened to a large dining room with a table that could easily seat eight. She entered, admiring the large crystal chandelier, and flicked the wall switch. The light sparkled, its hundreds of prisms reflecting a spectrum of colors onto the walls and the table below, a most mesmerizing effect. Macy smiled as it reminded her of the large chandeliers in a hotel in Vienna where on a mission…. She stopped in mid-thought, quickly casting the memory aside and turned off the light.
Continuing her inspection, Macy entered the kitchen. It was huge and looked out over the backyard through several sizeable windows which stretched from the counter to a few feet below the twelve-foot ceiling. The kitchen appeared to have the original pine cabinetry, but the black granite countertops and stainless-steel appliances were more recent. Light green glass tiles on the backsplash highlighted the grayish-green streaks in the granite.
A large granite-topped island surrounded by six tall cane-back chairs graced the center of the room. This was the only seating for informal dining as there was no breakfast room. Atop the island was a large bouquet of fresh flowers. She walked over to the arrangement and removed a card that peeked from amongst the blooms. “Best wishes for a happy retirement! Aaron”
Next to the flowers was a neatly wrapped package. It was heavy so she pulled it towards her and removed the bow and paper. Inside were several books of varying sizes each one on a different craft topic. Macy let out a roar of laughter, which echoed through the kitchen.
Leaning against the island, she looked around the room. She envisioned a group of people standing and sitting at the island, sipping their drinks, and talking and laughing while she cooked, another one of her talents. It was beautiful and perfect, ideal for lots of entertaining. But for whom would she entertain? She had severed most of her relationships with colleagues, had few family members left and no real friends, that is friends who did not have military or government backgrounds. She thought for a moment; I’ll just have to make new friends!
Macy walked over to a door in the corner of the kitchen and opened it. To her surprise, it was a walk-in pantry filled with canned goods, not something she remembered from her visit. Surely the previous owners did not leave the food. Aaron possibly? No, she knew he had probably never set foot in a grocery store, as he usually ate out or sponged meals off his numerous girlfriends. She walked to the refrigerator and opened the door. It too was filled with food and drinks and a small envelope was propped against a bottle of champagne.
Picking up the envelope, Macy opened it and smiled once again. “I knew you probably didn’t have time to shop so I took the liberty. Best wishes in your new home!” It was signed Sue Moore, Landen Real Estate Agency.
Macy continued the tour through her new home when the doorbell rang with a soft chime of a familiar tune although she couldn’t place it. She walked to the front door and peered out the side window. A short woman who appeared to be in her late thirties, stood, arms outstretched holding something.
Opening the door, Macy was greeted with a cheerful, “Hi neighbor! I’m Gloria from across the street. I wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood and thought I’d bake you something fresh.” She pushed a pie into Macy’s hands. “I saw your realtor earlier and she was bringing in a whole bunch of groceries. She told me you’d be arriving either today or tomorrow so I thought you might enjoy this. I hope you like apple pie.”
“I love it!” Macy said as enthusiastically as she could. She really didn’t want company but knew she had to fight the desire to be alone. “Would you like to come in and have a slice? I’ll check and see if there’s any ice cream in the freezer.”
“Thanks!” Gloria responded and immediately made her way through the door past Macy, heading back to the kitchen.
She’s been here before, Macy surmised, and followed.
For more than an hour, Macy sat at the island with Gloria, mostly listening. The woman was maybe five feet at most, a bit on the plump side and giggled when she talked. Her short dark hair crowned her round face and her sable brown eyes sparkled. Gloria, her husband Tom, and their two sons Jeremy and Marty had lived in Landen for most of their lives. She was able to give Macy the complete history of the neighborhood and a rundown of all the gossip, which Macy surprisingly, found most interesting.
It was getting dark outside, and Gloria excused herself to return home. “My husband should be here any minute and if I don’t have dinner on the table when he gets home, there’ll be hell to pay.” She laughed at this, and Macy knew there was no way any man could stand up to this small sassy lady. “We’ll get together again,” Gloria said, then added, “I won’t talk so much next time so I can learn more about you.”
Macy smiled and walked her to the door. As she closed it, she thought about Gloria’s last comment. I can’t tell her about me, Macy thought. She began envisioning her telling the neighborhood gossip that for nearly 30 years she had been working for the government first in intelligence and then as a sniper, that she had over 60 confirmed kills. She couldn’t tell her that her actions had helped governments wage war on extremists or that she was able to change the course of history by assassinating corrupt foreign officials, guerrilla combatants, and drug lords.
Macy walked into the living room and sunk into a large brown leather wing chair. The last light of day barely made its way through the window blinds casting shadows on the floor. She sat alone in the dark and leaned back against the wing of the chair. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t be a normal person. She couldn’t mingle with the neighbors or make new friends. She had nothing in common with these people, nothing! Closing her eyes, she fell asleep.
Chapter Four
Macy awoke the next morning to the grandfather clock chiming six in the hallway. She had fallen asleep in the chair and now the light of a new day shone across the room accenting its architectural beauty. Decorative crown moldings and detailed window and door casings were reminiscent of the Victorian era. An ample fireplace was centered on the outside wall, its surround ornately hand-carved with flowers and birds. The mantle was at least a foot deep and several inches thick holding two large blue and gold cloisonné vases one at each end. Built-in bookshelves lined the far wall and around the door to the music room. A long sofa faced the fireplace, and numerous chairs and small tables were interspersed throughout, forming comfortable conversation areas. The previous owners had exquisite taste, she thought. To give up all this to travel the world, how odd. And here she was doing the opposite.
She sat for a few moments, angry with herself for spending her first night in her new home sleeping in the living room; at least it had been comfortable. She stood, feeling the stiffness in her back and legs, and took her first few steps slowly. How often had she spent time in a small-cramped area for hours on end waiting for her mark? She was stiff then too, but not as much as now. Yes, age was catching up to her and yes, retirement was a good thing. She walked to the kitchen loosening up as she went. Coffee was all she could think about.
