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    Murder Mysteries Series six
    Murder Mysteries Series six
    Murder Mysteries Series six
    Ebook273 pages3 hours

    Murder Mysteries Series six

    By Robert C. Waggoner

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    About this ebook

    I am offering the reader two for one murder mysteries. In the first novel, a twenty plus year New York City homicide lieutenant retires to the coast of Oregon. All set in his drafty beach cottage, his short retirement is halted by a lovely detective from the local Sheriffs Department of Lincoln County. She asks for his help solving a rather brutal murder and violation of a young woman confined to a wheel chair. It's determined the murder was committed by more than one person. Norm Payne, with reservations, agrees to help. He cuts a deal with the local sheriff and embarks on the trail of the local killers. Along the way the killers ambush Norm without much success. Other suspects are friends of the victim who has a taste for green bud. Add a touch of romance and you have a thrilling read to the end.
    The second novel is number six in the Stacy Foreham series. While on a short vacation visiting her father in Bandon, Oregon, a phone call informs the former Chief of Police Ray Foreham, that his best friend has been brutally murdered in his myrtlewood factory. The wife of the victim is in a mental coma unable to speak. Stacy and her team's investigation leads to most all of the prime suspects dropping off the suspect list leaving the detectives wanting. Finally buried secrets are discovered and after the comatose wife is murdered, that homicide presents a baffling who done it. Read to find out who killed two of the most respected citizens of the county. Was it the two off spring who were cut out of the will, or was it a lifelong feud with the local competitor in the myrtlewood business who murdered them?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRobert C. Waggoner
    Release dateApr 12, 2015
    ISBN9781311150493
    Murder Mysteries Series six
    Author

    Robert C. Waggoner

    I love to tell a story, but after all is said and done, I need help with editing. Friends are great, but are not editors. Besides I live out of country, semi-retired, with forgetfulness knocking on my door. What you see are my first attemps at self publishing. I promise better work to come.

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      Book preview

      Murder Mysteries Series six - Robert C. Waggoner

      Murder Mysteries Series six

      By Robert C. Waggoner

      Copyright 2015 Robert C. Waggoner

      Smashwords Edition

      Murder in Lincoln City

      1

      Among other things that he was sick of hearing was the hard sole shoes against the ancient wood floors of the station house. The clop – clop – clop eventually would identify who was coming or going in the homicide room. Now it was time and this time he would not be talked out of or be made to feel guilty for leaving. Nope, he was mostly packed and had given notice to his landlord two weeks ago. His partner, who sat across from him, had no idea she was about to be divorced. She would be fine without him. Maybe they would bump her up to his vacant lieutenant's position; she deserved it and he would put a word in for her.

      He had left word with the secretary to the captain that he wanted a few minutes of his time. Meanwhile he sat at his desk with one foot resting on the bottom drawer of his much used metal desk. The in-basket was full and the out-basket empty. Nothing really shocking there as all knew it was just Lieutenant Norman Payne's regular messy desk. Next to the in-and-out tray sat a sharp spindle that held at least two dozen pink message slips. The ones near the bottom had turned a lighter shade of pink than the darker ones at the top. In his hand was a yellow Bic pen that was his office trademark. At one time it held a Salem menthol cigarette, but with the smoking ban, his hairy fingers held a pen instead; as well as the habit. His desk pad was evidence of his making use of his hands.

      He was told; he could not remember by whom, that doodling using straight and sharp lines meant the doodler was practical and determined. He had cracked a smile upon hearing that as his desk pad revealed mostly straight and sharp lines. It was commonly know he was determined and once on the scent of a killer, threw caution to the wind bent upon running the perp to ground. His solve rate was high and along with some reprimands, included citations of valor and success.

      However, all of the highs and lows came at a price. During the first few years, booze seems to take the place of other things that were important in most people's lives. The first to go was his wife and then his blood family turned their backs on him. The reason was he became unsocial able and extremely moody. Unfortunately, when he realized what was happening to him, thanks to a pastor friend he saved from a deranged killer, he quit the drink and never looked back. The social part came when he, by accident, while looking for a violent suspect led him to the local Boys Club on east 10th. After a round of questioning, he saw why these kids were there. Most of them never had a mentor or a father figure. He empathized completely and subsequently he made the Boys Club a regular stop at least once a week.

      Sadly, as he stood up to stretch his back from sitting in his lopsided swivel chair that had almost given up the swivel part, his body had taken a beating over the years. A slight groan escaped his lips. His Bic had rolled to one side of the desk. He caught it before it rolled off. His eye caught the original brass inventory plate that was almost rubbed to the point of being smooth. But with a keen eye, and Norm did have a keen eye, he could still see the faint 01-636-D-NYPD.

      Known or unknown to him, Detective Ramona Whiteside, his current partner, had been watching him for the last half an hour. She knew him well enough after three years to realize he had something serious or heavy on his mind. Ramona was smart enough to not wear out her brain trying to guess what might be on his mind. Indeed there was a heavy case load and they both should have been busy preparing a plan. It was his job to assign workloads to the homicide division and then the two of them would take what was left over.

      Just before he sat down again, his phone rang. The call was in-house and she only heard him say, I'll be right there. He moved swiftly and gracefully out of the room. Ramona guessed right he went to the Captains' office. However, the why was nagging at her. She looked at his desk seeing what was always visible: a mess. Most seasoned detectives will agree that they're more of an introvert than outwardly demonstrative. That's not to say Ramona did not know a lot about Norm's background. It was not hard to obtain their personnel file if really curious. And curiosity got the best of her shortly after becoming his partner. But, be that as it may, there was not anything out of the ordinary about Norman Payne.

      What they both had was a respect and a distant friendship between them. Both were single and both were divorced with one offspring each to their chagrin. Both lived in an apartment that served only as a place to sleep and shower and occasionally eat at. In each apartment a top of the line microwave was the key to cooking and the trash would attest to the many cardboard containers left in over filled kitchen trash bins.

      She looked up as he returned looking the same as usual: expressionless. He picked up his sports coat off the back of his swivel chair and looked at her and then looked at the door sending the obvious message. She grabbed her bag and followed him out the door and down the stairs to the outside where an early spring day that might entice the groundhog to rear its head in greeting.

      2

      Directly across the street was an eatery of barely acceptable means. Your first clue was the name: Dave's Diner. Dave had long since gone by the wayside and lord knows how many 'Dave's' had followed. What did remain, from the original Dave, was the decades old blacken grease one could find if looking in some nooks or crannies. Indeed it was a miracle that there had only been a few cases of food poisoning reported from said eatery. It was sustained by the dozens of police who drank the hell out of Dave's cheap coffee. Cops love their donuts and coffee, it was understood by most.

      It was fitting, Ramona thought, that Dave's was the location where Norman Payne told her he had quit the force effective immediately. It does not take a lot to shock a police officer, but to Ramona, Norm leaving the force was indeed an eye opener.

      What is your plan Norm, if I might ask, said Ramona.

      Some years ago I bought some beach property in Oregon. I plan to hang out there and see what develops.

      I see and I for one can't blame you or anyone who has over twenty years in police work leave and enjoy a life without enduring death and violence on a daily basis. If my math is correct, you're roughly forty-five?

      You math is good Mona. I hope someday you'll come and visit me. My property is located on what is known as Oregon's Twenty Miracle Miles. It's a stretch of Oregon towns on the coast of the Pacific Ocean east of Portland.

      Norm saw a watering of her eyes and felt a pang for his fellow partner. He wanted to reach across the table and hold her hand, but the maleness in him prevented the nice gesture that she would have treasured for many months to come. He said, Mona, I talked to the Captain about you taking my place. He wants you to study the lieutenant's test and he'll set it up for you.

      Thanks Norm. I'll do just that. I've fifteen years in and add ten more for a decent retirement and then maybe I can wiggle my toes in the sand.

      Her eyes dried up and took a sip of coffee adulterated by cream and sugar. Norm looked closer at his former partner. He had always regarded her as a handsome woman, but slightly on the heavy side. She certainly was not fat, but stocky came to his mind. She came from ordinary stock and after a two year degree at a junior college, joined the force at the same age he had.

      It's time for me to go Mona. I'll miss you and some of the others. I've your phone number and you've mine. I'll send word when I'm settled in Oregon.

      At the Boy's Club he said his goodbyes to a tearful group of boys. He'd told the director that, hopefully, he could have one or two come stay during the summer time at his new digs.

      His last stop was at the church where his dear friend Pastor Peter was the only one that knew he was leaving the city for a life as far away as the continental US would allow. He rapped on the church door where Pastor Peter had his office. The door opened and an old withered man looked up at Norman through pale blue eyes and said, It's time then Norman?

      Yes, it's time Pastor Peter. I'll not stay, but say good bye as we stand here. I'll certainly miss you and am grateful for your support to make me a whole person again.

      Never mind, my son. It's you I thank for saving my life from a disturbed person some years ago.

      Let's call it even then, said a smiling Norm taking the frail old man in his strong arms giving him a brief hug. Norm turned and walked away without looking back at his friend who likes Ramona, a tear rolled down his stubble cheek.

      3

      Norman Payne had few personal things to take with him to Oregon. He had shipped two boxes and booked a one way ticket to Portland by air. Norm had a driver's license but no car. His plan was to buy a vehicle in Portland and drive over to the coast. Norm being a frugal person over the years allowed him to possess a healthy bank account. His child support had ended and with his pension being adequate, he could enjoy the days ahead without too much worry.

      Norm walked out of his apartment for the last time. With purpose he walked down the four flights of stairs listening for the last time the sounds of a lower middle class apartment. It was rare indeed when not the sound of a baby crying or a heated argument in various languages was heard. However, today, the only sound was the squeaking of the dated wooden staircase and the closing of the door. Outside he got lucky and a taxi was passing by. Two hours later he was in the air flying west chasing the sun.

      Before he had left, he had surfed enough websites to locate a decent car dealer. Being who he was, thrifty, buying new was out of the question. His research led him to settle on a Korean SUV with low miles. After that he would hit an art store for his secret desire was to attempt to paint using acrylic to begin with. Like his desk pad, he would transfer those bold, straight lines to canvas; or so he hoped. His inspiration came from the old reruns of Bob Ross of happy tree fame. The guy made it look both easy and fun to brush paint on a canvas making the picture come alive from what was buried in his mind. Painters, it was commonly known, paid attention to detail. Not dissimilar from a homicide detective searching for clues.

      4

      It was not until the wheels hit the runway did Norman wake from a deep sleep. Not unlike his former sleep habits, he woke wide eyed and ready to go. He rubbed his face quietly shifting in his seat to loosen up some tight back muscles. It did not take long to disembark and find a hotel van that would take him to his room. Thirty minutes later, through a, what the van driver said, 'It's just Oregon and it's never ending rain sir.' It clearly was a statement and needed no comment. For Norm he cared less what the weather was like. One thing he did not like was ice and snow. Thankfully, and that was one reason he chose the west coast, rarely did it freeze or snow. Besides his thick black hair seldom allowed any wet substance to reach his scalp. Also his short waisted leather coat kept him dry.

      In his room, checking the time, seeing it was mid-afternoon, rang up the car dealer. He explained to the salesman what his plan was. His plan was to have the salesman bring him a late model Korean SUV complete with the remainder of the ten year warranty that originally came with the vehicle. When Norm told him he would be paying cash, the salesman said he had just the vehicle for him. They made an appointment for six pm.

      5

      At about the same time as Norm was taking a test drive in his soon to be new SUV, a young woman, namely Linda Blake, was enjoying a rare windless spring day on the Oregon coast. She was staying with her aunt, Rose Stipent. Linda was her only niece and after her mother died, cheerfully took over the guardianship of her handicapped niece. Rose had her house remodeled to accept a wheelchair bound person. Linda's favorite place, weather permitting, was on a cement path that led to the bank area of D River. D River has the distinction of being the shortest river in the world and one only need to look it up in Guinness to verify the claim. The house and back yard was so situated that it mostly blocked the on shore wind from the Pacific Ocean only a short distance away. This is where Aunt Rose found Linda on a rare, balmy day in late March with barely a breeze from the east drifting across Devils Lake.

      My dear are you warm enough out here where the lake breeze can possibly put a chill upon your frail body, Aunt Rose said while fussing with the blanket that covered her withered legs.

      I'm fine Auntie. The weather is so nice. I love this time of year don't you, asked Linda as she looked up into her aunts grey eyes that were almost hidden by wrinkles that had long since lost the battle beening disguised by any makeup. Linda held her hand up to shade her eyes from the late afternoon sun beginning to send out signals that it was time to wake up others on the islands to the west.

      How about a glass of my special lemonade my dear, asked Rose as she took a look out on the lake seeing many speedboats creating a racket to spoil a nice pleasant day.

      I'd love a glass Auntie. Let's throw caution to the wind and put a shot of vodka in our glasses, she said looking like she had a bit of the lake's name in her eyes. Rose hurried off to make the drinks and to put a wall between her and the obnoxious boats roaring around the lake. With the door firmly closed she quickly took two tall glasses out of the cupboard, the vodka out of the freezer and last the pitcher of lemonade which one could always find in Rose Stipent's refrigerator that was close partners with the OJ.

      Most that knew Rose Stipent highly suspected she was close friends with Smirnoff. It wasn't long before Rose had two nice glasses of lemonade in her hands. She hurried to the end of the path where two lawn chairs sat waiting for her and a possible friend to come sit and enjoy the fresh salt air. She said, Linda what say you and I take the van down the coast for a sightseeing trip.

      Oh, I'd like that. Let's go tomorrow as you know this weather doesn't last for long.

      I'll go make a list of things to take with us. I see your drink is almost gone. How about a refill to really enjoy the day?

      I suppose one more won't matter much. If I nod off, well, who cares. I'm just a girl who is happy to be alive and not dead like those crazy kids who ran into me that fateful night, she said while finishing off her cocktail.

      Never mind that Linda. We've a good life and I'm here for you always and forever, Auntie said while taking her glass in for a fill up. While fixing a new vodka lemonade, she flashed back a few years ago when Linda had just recovered from the accident, and to add to her misery, her parents passing on, such a burden she carried with her.

      Walking back outside, hearing those boats making an awful racket, she handed Linda her glass and said, Call me if you need something. I'm going to make a list for our trip.

      I'm fine and will be right here when you're finished.

      Sadly, or so tragic it was when she awoke and as it was dark outside, hurried to see about her niece. She panicked when there wasn't a trace of her niece anywhere. She called 911.

      6

      Norm arrived at the real estate office in Lincoln City just after the noon hour. An 'Out to Lunch' sign hung from the glass door decorated with items from the beach. To the left and right of the door were knurly pieces of driftwood placed to give the impression they washed up against the pale grey wall. Norm turned around and would do a bit of looking around the town while waiting for the office to open.

      First he drove south which crossed the River D where a group of citizens were standing on the east side of the bridge looking east. Kind of strange, he thought as he drove slowly along with his window down enjoying the fresh smell of clean air. At the State Park he took a tour and parked not far from the beach itself. He got out and took the short trail to the beach where for the first time, Norm Payne from New York, stepped onto the shore of the Pacific Ocean. He did wonder why it was so quiet and the beach was without an onshore breeze. Later he would discover the why no onshore wind.

      This was his first time in his life he had walked on sand. For one reason or another, he had never walked on the east coast right next door to New York City. It was probably because the beaches on a nice day were filled to over capacity and as he looked up and down the beach here on the west coast, only a few people could be seen on a clean pristine area. Nice, he thought. Well, time to get his keys and set up house. Before he went to he went real estate office, he stopped by the post office to pick up his two boxes of stuff he had sent from back home.

      Back at the real estate office the sign had been turned around welcoming customers with an 'Open' still slightly swinging back and forth. Norm walked in and was greeted by a smiling plus size woman in an avocado colored, tight fitting pants suit. The shiny brass plate on her desk with here name told him he was talking to Eugina Longmire. She held out her hand and said, Just call me Gina and if you're looking for Loren Gladhand, he's with a friend at the moment.

      I'm Norman Payne and have come to fetch my keys to my house on 8th street.

      Oh, yes, you're expected and I've your keys in my desk, she said moving around to the other side of her desk. From a drawer she took out a set of keys and handed them to him. I forgot, welcome to Lincoln City Mr. Payne. We hope you'll enjoy living here. Usually it's pretty quiet around here, but in the summer time lots of tourists visit the Oregon coast.

      Norm was watching with a bit of fascination her cheeks dancing up and down while she talked. However, she seemed nice and quite pleasant. I hope too that I'll like it here. I'm looking for some peaceful downtime during my stay here. Just then the door flew open and an out of breath middle age man came in saying:

      My God……………… oh, sorry – I didn't see you have a client – I beg your pardon.

      "Mr. Payne to pick up his keys Loren. Mr. Payne this is Loren Gladhand our broker.

      "I apologize for the entry Mr. Payne, but we've had a terrible happening this morning. A dear friend's niece has been found dead in the river. At first the authorities thought it was an accident, but now they say its murder.

      I'm sorry to hear that Mr. Gladhand. Well, I'll not keep you and it's been my pleasure to meet the both of you. If I decide to be away for a few days, would you mind if I left my keys here with you?

      No problem at all. We'd be glad to accommodate you in any way we can.

      Norm smiled thinking that so far the people he'd met were friendly and seemed sincere in their conversations. Loren looked like he was a born salesman and even looked the part: medium height, salt and pepper hair combed straight back, strong nose and jaw with a firm handshake. He was dressed rather for a golf game than selling real estate. Fine and thank you for making the acquisition rather painless, said Norm while reaching for the door.

      Do you need directions Mr. Payne, said an eager to please Gina."

      Thanks, but I already drove by as this wasn't hard to find near the Sailor Jack Motel, which, by the way, is an unusual name and I'd like to meet the person who named the place.

      The small house he had purchased did not have a garage, but then he really

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