Here is a preview from The Gray Detective, three crime novellas by Stephen Burdick.
The Gray Detective
Chapter 1
Joe Hampton had seen quite a few sunsets since he’d retired. The balcony of his condominium on Island Estates in Clearwater Beach, Florida, was the perfect vantage point. Those living around him shared equally advantageous roosts. But they never appeared to be grateful for the sun slowly sinking into the blue-green waters of the Gulf of Mexico, or the many colors refracting off the cumulous clouds hovering above the horizon. Maybe they’d grown accustomed to the magnificence or were too busy to notice. Maybe they flat out didn’t care. Joe’s deep-seated appreciation of his new surroundings had a lot to do with the uplifting mood he often experienced. Thirty-five years of police work in Philadelphia behind him was a major reason he looked forward to living a quiet life. Another reason, and the most important, was his lovely wife Joyce. Before she passed away, they had shared a number of sunsets all over the country. She liked to travel, and was all for moving to the inviting Gulf Coast community after a visit. He wasn’t so sure. But he loved her, and loved making her happy.
Joe sighed and reached for the glass of whiskey sitting on the TV table next to his blue chaise. Whiskey on the rocks was his traditional after-dinner beverage. This time of year, though, the humidity was climbing, and the “rocks” melted quickly. He took a long drink and sighed a second time. “I’m doing it again, Joyce,” he whispered to himself. “Beautiful sunsets always make me wish you were here.” As he finished the whiskey, he heard the annoying tone of his cell phone. He shook his head and set the glass on the table. He knew who was calling.
“Joe, you’re not going to miss Bingo Night, are you?”
“I don’t know, Shirl. I’m feeling awfully lazy right now.”
Shirley Lyon was an acquaintance who’d latched onto him shortly after he’d arrived at the Crimson Conch Condominiums. She was friendly and attractive for a woman of seventy. Her once-blond hair was now white as the sand dunes, and her lively blue eyes were pale and failing. Her verbose and perky nature struck him as annoying at times.
“Oh, Joe, it won’t be the same without you. Tony and Emma are coming. So are Tom and Doris. They’ll be disappointed if you don’t join us.”
Joe rolled his eyes. “Okay. Let me grab a―”
“I’ll stop by in ten minutes. Is that okay?”
“Shirl, I need to shower first. I’ll meet you in the Rec Room.”
“Don’t be too long or I’ll come after you.”
He heard her giggle before he ended the call. Just what I need, he thought, a giggling old woman. He’d already showered. What he really wanted was another drink. The extra boost to help him face the horde of bingo maniacs was an absolute necessity. Why do I do this, Joyce? He chuckled at the question. Who am I kidding? We’d be going to bingo if you were here.
Fifteen minutes and another drink later, he left his condo.
The Rec Room was filled with lines of tables and buzzing with white-haired women and bald-headed men. Joe still had a full head of hair, albeit gray, and was one of the youngest occupants in the complex. The median age was seventy-five, and being sixty-eight made him a prime target for all the widows and divorcees. He felt like a show dog on display as he strolled about the room.
“Over here, Joe!” Shirley shrieked.
Joe stopped and slowly scanned the crowd until he saw her. Wonderful, he thought, right in the middle of everyone. There’s plenty of room in the back. He forced a smile as he worked his way to where she and the others were seated.
“I saved you a spot. Here’s five cards and the chips to mark your numbers.”
“What would I do without you, Shirl?”
“Probably be home watching the ballgame,” Tom groused. “The Rays are playing Baltimore.”
“Oh, hush up, Tom!” Doris scolded. “You can watch the baseball game tomorrow night.”
Tom was a heavyset man, six feet tall with silver hair, who’d spent his working years as a telephone installer and lineman. Doris was barely five-five and a brunette. Like her husband, she’d worked for the phone company in a switching station before retiring. Together they were quite a pair. He was personable and outgoing while she was shy and conservative.
“Tomorrow night is Bridge Night,” Tony reminded them. “How could you even think of missing a hot night of bridge?”
“Thanks, Tony. You’re a real pal,” Tom said.
Tony laughed. Doris and Emma laughed. Shirley leaned against Joe as she straightened his cards.
“I feel lucky tonight. How about you, Joe?”
Joe caught her drift and winked. “You never know, Shirl. How much do I owe you for the cards?”
A mischievous smile settled on Shirley’s face. “We can discuss that later.”
“All right, people, let’s get under way,” the caller announced. “The prize for the winner of the first game is five dollars. That’s five dollars for the winner.”
Tony rubbed his hands together. “You folks might as well relax. I’ve got this game in the bag.”
“Good,” Tom said, and started to stand up. “I can catch the first inning.”
“Sit down, Tom!” Doris ordered.
Tom returned to his chair, muttering.
“The first number is I-forty-two,” the caller declared. “That’s I-forty-two.”
Joe took a breath, looked over his cards, and resigned himself to a long, boring night.
A little after ten o’clock, Bingo Night came to an end. The winners had received their prizes, and most everyone was ready to return home and go to bed.
“Now that was a lot of fun,” Tony said.
“For you, maybe,” Tom grumbled. “If I’d won six games, I’d be happy, too.”
“Now, Tom, we come here to play for fun and relaxation,” Emma said.
“Winning is fun. There’s no fun in losing.”
“Oh, hush up, you old grump,” Doris said.
The group blended into the rest of the residents making their way out of the room. Once outside, they paused on a grassy plot close to the seawall as the others filled the sidewalk.
Emma looked up at the black canvas of night dotted with endless specks of light, some twinkling, some simply glowing. “Isn’t it beautiful?” She nestled against Tony as he put his arm around her.
“One of the nicer things about living down here,” Tom said. He winked as he gently nudged Doris.
Doris smiled. “You old grump.”
Shirley walked to the seawall, transfixed by the lights reflected in the water from a condominium across the channel. She slowly lowered her gaze. “Joe, come here, will you?”
Joe walked up beside her.
“What is that?”
“Where?”
“Down there,” she said, raising her right hand and pointing.
In the shallow water a dark object about five feet long bumped against the concrete barrier. With the nearest source of light being the lamps surrounding the Rec Room, identifying the buoyant object was next to impossible. Joe strained to look. A second later, stark realization hit him.
“Tony, call nine-one-one.”
“What?”
“Call nine-one-one and tell them there’s a disturbance,” Joe said, taking hold of Shirley’s arm.
“Come with me.”
“Why, Joe? What’s wrong”
“Shirley, please come with me,” he said, attempting to draw her away from the seawall.
She removed his hand and peered over the wall again. “Oh, my god! It’s a body!”
Joe latched onto her arm and led her away, intercepting the others coming toward them. “Hold on, everybody. We shouldn’t go tramping around before the police get here.”
“Yes, that’s right, operator,” Tony said. “The Crimson Conch Condominiums on Island Estates. I’ll be waiting out front in the parking lot.” He lowered his cell phone. “The police are on the way, Joe.”
“Doris, Emma, I think Shirley needs to sit down. Would you take her home?”
“Sure, Joe,” Emma said.
They each took an arm and escorted Shirley, still wide-eyed and shaken, to the rear entrance of the main building.
“Tony?” Joe said.
“Right! The parking lot.” Tony hurried after the women.
“Tom, you stay with me in case somebody gets nosey.”
“Good idea, Joe.” Tom leveled his gaze on the channel. “You think it’s someone who lives here?”
“Hard to tell. The body could have been floating for awhile. You know, carried by the current. Perhaps someone got drunk and fell off a boat or a dock.”
“Sure. A drowning. That makes sense.”
Joe nodded. A drowning was what he wanted his friend to believe. No need to upset him. He knew that the incoming tide wasn’t due for another two hours. And the way the body was situated in the shallow water, perpendicular and not adjacent to the seawall, almost guaranteed it had been dumped. A fact not needed to be made public—especially when keeping bystanders at bay.
“I guess you’ve seen your fair share of bodies,” Tom said. “How many years were you in Homicide?”
“Eighteen,” Joe said.”
“You’ve pretty much seen it all, I bet.”
“I’ve seen enough.” Enough for this lifetime, anyway.
A siren wailed in the distance and immediately was joined by a second.
“You’ve lived here longer than I have, Tom. Has anything like this ever happened before?”
“Not that I recall.” Tom pinched up his face. “Anything like what?”
“A body in the channel.”
“Oh. No. The only thing I remember seeing is dead fish. You know, during a red tide invasion. That doesn’t happen too often, though.”
The sirens grew louder.
“I sure hope it isn’t someone we know. That would be terrible.”
“Try not to think about it, Tom.”
“Yeah. Right. But if it is someone we know, Doris will take it hard. She always cries at funerals.”
Simultaneously hitting their highest pitch, the sirens abruptly ended. Fifteen seconds later, Tony led two Clearwater Police officers through the rear door of the building. They were followed by a small group of curious residents. Tony stopped and pointed to Joe and Tom, who were standing twenty feet from the seawall.
“Over there,” he said.
“Where’s the disturbance?” the shorter officer said.
“The fellow on the right. Talk to him.”
The officers were looking around as they approached the pair. Joe motioned with his head. “There may be a body in the water.”
The officers switched on their flashlights and moved forward, taking calculated steps while searching the grass in front of them.
“What’s going on?” someone in the group asked.
“Something happened by the seawall,” another answered.
A chorus of murmurs followed.
Carefully training their LED beams into the water, the officers peered over the seawall.
“We’d better call Homicide and the Criminal Analysis Unit,” the short one said.
They cautiously backtracked to Joe and the others.
“Which one of you discovered the body?” he asked.
“I did,” Joe said.
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