dontravis.com
blog post #354
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Since
my sixth BJ Vinson murder mystery is put to bed and scheduled for release by
Dreamspinner Press on November 19, I figured it was time to begin the next novel.
So I want to show you my opening efforts and ask you to let me know if it stirs
any interest. I’m soliciting comments, people.
*****
THE
CUTIE PIE MURDERS
Prologue
The young man strutted up East
Central, aware of—but not reacting to—the admiring looks thrown his way. After
eighteen years of being first cute, then handsome, and finally sexy, he was
accustomed to more than his share of attention. The street address he was
looking for should be one of those new apartments in the next block. Cool.
Fancy apartments meant money.
He paused at the big brass double
doors, scanned the communications panel, and with a heart playing pitter-patter
in his chest, pushed the proper red button. After a moment, a pleasant baritone
reverberated through the speaker.
“Yes?”
“Hi, this is—”
A buzzer interrupted him as
the interesting voice caressed his eardrums. “Fourth floor. Door’s open. I’m
getting in the shower but won’t be a minute. Go down the hall to the bedroom on
your right and make yourself comfortable.”
Excited by the timbre of that
voice, he couldn’t resist. “How comfortable?”
“As comfortable as you want to
be. I’ll look forward to learning your definition of the term.”
Smiling, the youth pushed
through a heavy door into the vacant lobby and called up the elevator. His date
was a man. This was only his third call. The first had been an attractive lady
a bit older than he liked. The second was a good-looking middle-aged man who’d
kept himself fit. In all honesty, he enjoyed the second date more. Now another
man. And wow! If the dude matched the voice on the intercom, it was full speed
ahead.
As promised, the door to 4201
stood slightly ajar. He eased into the vestibule and looked around. Nice. How
long before he’d be able to afford a place like this? Probably about a
bazillion years. He paused to take in the rich furniture in the living area and
inhale the faint sensual scent of lavender hanging in the air before turning
right and heading for the big bedroom at the end of the hall. From somewhere,
he heard a shower shut off. How much time did he have before his client showed?
He closed the bedroom door, wanting his client to open it and get a sudden,
stunning glimpse of what he was buying.
Standing beside the king-sized
bed, he ran a hand over the satiny yellow and cinnamon spread… or was this a
duvet? Whatever, it felt nice against his fingertips. He eased off his loafers
while debating over how comfortable to get. He’d heard some people liked to
undress you, but maybe he should go all the way and display what he had to
offer. And without being smug about it, that was considerable.
He shrugged out of his
slipover shirt, careful not to muss his hair. After hesitating briefly, he
slipped out of his trousers and lay back on the bed. A second later, he kicked
off his briefs and lay naked except for his socks, Plumping a pillow, he looked
down his torso to admire his abs and six-pack. How would he look to the guy who
was coming through the door any minute now? He nodded to himself. Probably pretty
good. Everybody said he had the face of a beautiful girl, but his body was all
man.
When the door opened, he threw
up his hands and shouted, “Surprise!”
The fine baritone sent shivers
of anticipation down his back. “Surprise, indeed! Aren’t you a cutie pie!”
Chapter 1
New Mexico State Penitentiary,
Santa Fe, Thursday, March 8, 2012
I stepped through the prison’s
full-body X-ray security system and addressed a corrections officer. “B. J.
Vinson for Inmate José Zapata, Number 79805. His attorney arranged my
appointment.”
The officer scanned a list of
names on a clipboard and made a check mark. “Yessir, I’ll have him brought up.”
He nodded to a man standing nearby. “This officer will take you to the
interview room. He’ll remain with you at all times.”
I grinned. “Not my first time
at bat. I know the rules.” I took another look at the man’s ID badge. “Simmons.
Weren’t you with APD a few years back?” I referred to the Albuquerque
Police Department where I served for ten years before getting myself shot in
the right thigh and receiving a medical discharge.
“Yessir, it’s Detective
Vinson, isn’t it?”
“Not since 2005.”
The man loosened up a little.
“I remember you getting plugged while you and the commander were apprehending a
murder suspect.”
“Gene Enriquez wasn’t a
commander then. He was a lowly detective just like me. And now you know why he’s
in charge of the Criminal Investigative Division and I’m not.”
Simmons laughed. “Yeah, he let
you take the bullet instead of him.”
“Got it… the first time around.”
My escort, a young corrections
officer named Pierce, and I reached the start interview room a few minutes
before Zapata arrived.
The former bigwig in the
now-defunct South Valley gang called the Santos Morenos—the Brown Saints—arrived
in restraints and with his own escort, as was required for Level VI prisoners. This man played a prominent role in the case file I'd labeled The Zozobra Incident. José Zapata had kidnapped Paul Barton--the human being I treasured most on this earth--and attempted to kill him before I literally dropped from the heavens and put a bullet in Zapata's guts and killed Puerco Arrular, the gang;s leader, before they could accomplish that deed. Now Zapata looked more like a sick old man than the forty-four-year-old thug I knew him to be.
My bullet apparently hadn’t digested too well.
“Vinson,” he said in a
gravelly voice stronger than I expected, given his appearance.
“Zancon.” I addressed him by
his nickname out of habit. He earned the moniker by virtue of his long legs and
lanky frame.
We settled at a bolted down
metal table with Pierce taking up a position behind the inmate.
“Thanks for coming,” Zancon rumbled.
“Surprised to get a call. Even
more surprised it came from Brookings Ingles. Didn’t know you went for the most
expensive defense attorney in the state.” Brookie Ingles was long rumored to be
a lawyer for the mob.
Zancon waved an emaciated arm.
“Not my trial shyster. I was a cooked goose there. But he takes care of things a man can’t take care of hisself. You know, when he's locked up like this.” He leveled black eyes that looked to be filmed
over with something… exhaustion, disease, hopelessness? “I got a brother with
some coins, and he helps me out with that.”
The arched eyebrow the guard
couldn’t see told me Zancon had managed to hide some of his loot. The brother
was merely managing the inmate’s assets.
“Juan’s got a problem. Hell, I’ve
got a problem. Whole family has. But I figure you owe me, so I’m the dude
putting the question to you.”
“I owe you nothing, Zancon. Juan…
that’s your brother?”
The inmate nodded.
"If he has a legitimate
problem, I’ll listen to what he has to say.”
Zancon flushed before relaxing and spreading his hands over the table. “Fair enough. Everbody was shooting at everybody that night,
but I’m the one who can’t eat or take a crap like everbody else because of the
lead poisoning you give me.”
“Now that’s out of the way,
what’s your brother’s problem?”
“Some son-of-a*bitch offed his boy.
And I want him to pay.”
I leaned back in the
uncomfortable chair and sighed. “A gang killing?”
He shook his head. “Naw. Kid
wasn’t into gangs. My bro ain’t either. Stayed righteous while I was outlawing.”
“So what happened?”
Zancon looked uncomfortable. “Juan’ll
give you the details. He’s waiting for your call.”
My antenna went up. “Look, if
you’re not straight with me, then I can’t—”
“I’m telling it like it is. No
gang stuff. Mateo wasn’t in no gang.”
“Mateo. That’s your nephew?”
He nodded and suddenly seemed
tired. “Yeah. Mostly went by Matt.”
“How old was he?”
“Eighteen. Wasn’t but
eighteen.”
“Give me some details.”
I got the warning look again. “Okay," I said, at least tell me
where he was killed.”
“Albuquerque,” he answered.
It was my turn to spread hands
over the table. “Hell, you don’t need me. ADP will take care of it.”
Zancon gave a sour smile. “Yeah,
right. They’ll see what you seen. Another gang member offed. Good riddance.”
“That’s not the way things
work, and you know it. They’ll give it their best shot.”
He leaned forward and tapped
the table with a long fingernail. “Maybe so. But you’ll be another set of eyes
and ears. I know you, Vinson. You’re a damned good detective. And I want you to
finish him. You know, like with Puerco.”
Now it was clear why Zancon
wanted me on the case. Zancon didn’t want
APD to find the killer. He was offering to hire me to settle up with the murderer. Why did
these guys always judge others by their own lights?
*****
As
I said, I’m soliciting comments, so let me have it.
The advance buy link for
The Voxlightner Scandal follows: http://www.dsppublications.com/books/upcoming-releases-c
Now
my mantra: Keep on reading and keep on
writing. You have something to say, so say it!
My
personal links: (Note the change in the Email address because I’m still getting
remarks on the old dontravis21@gmail.com. PLEASE DON’T USE
THAT ONE.)
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/donald.travis.982
Twitter:
@dontravis3
Buy
links to Abaddon’s Locusts:
See
you next week.
Don
New Posts are published
at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.
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