Down the Rabbit Hole

by F J messina

  56

  On Friday morning, Detective Sergeant Johnny Adams walked around the room shared by all the detectives in his unit. Shaking hands, he wished them well and thanked them for all their support. After his actions on the previous Monday evening had been declared justified, he had been cleared to return to duty. He had declined, however, saying that the stress of having killed two people, even in the line of duty, had led him to reconsider his choice of career. Privately, he had shared with some of his closest colleagues the fact that losing Sonia Vitale to Brad Dunham was turning out to be very difficult for him. Therefore, he had decided that moving to a new city just might be the best thing for him.

  After collecting his few personal belongings, Johnny Adams walked out of the police station for the last time. Entering his small apartment, he was surprised at how few boxes it took to hold all the things he would bring with him to his new home. He was convinced that it was time to start over, to start a new life, and maybe find someone else to love. He was certain of something else: the eight hundred and twelve thousand, six hundred and forty dollars he had stashed in two old Samsonite suitcases would certainly help him get the start he wanted in that new life. He was sure of one other thing, as well. Thanks to his quick thinking and bold efforts, the three people with whom he had worked to accumulate that money, Alexi Dimitrov, Steve Hollings, and Dr. Xin LI, would never be able to open their mouths again.

  Author’s Note:

  For those of you old enough to remember the original television series, Dragnet, I’m sure you can still hear in your mind’s ear the rich voice of the announcer saying, “The story you are about to see is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent.” In the case of this book, however, THE STORY YOU HAVE JUST READ IS NOT TRUE. NONE OF THE EVENTS OR CHARACTERS PORTRAYED HAS ANY RELATION TO ACTUAL EVENTS, OR TO ANY PERSONS LIVING OR DECEASED.

  On the other hand, should you ever visit the wonderful city of Lexington, Kentucky, bring this book with you. It may lead you to wonderful things: some interesting places and things to see; some great Italian food, served with incredible breadsticks; some excellent coffee; and some delicious pastries─especially the almond croissants.

  PS: As an independent author and publisher, my most valuable assets are the comments and recommendations of the folks who take the time to read and share my novels. If you would like to help, please take a few moments to write a review on Amazon, or wherever you purchased the book. Or just tell your friends about the adventures of Sonia, Brad, and Jet. I’m certain they would appreciate it.

  Curious about what Sonia does next?

  Wondering about her relationships

  with Brad and Jet?

  Like to know a little about the future of

  Bluegrass Confidential Investigations?

  Then Take a peek at:

  The Bluegrass Files: Twisted Dreams

  1

  They should call me Lucky,” she whispered out loud as she drove her car through the early morning darkness and onto the property. Her eyes followed the headlights as her car moved along the winding driveway.

  She smiled and nodded as she thought about her life. Lucky. I’m lucky to be doing what I love, working with these majestic beings. Lucky to be working on a farm that’s so lovely I can see its beauty all around me, even before the sun really comes up. Lucky to be helping these animals, and those I’ll never even have the chance to see. Life is good; I’m blessed. And soon, soon things will be even better. Soon this will have all been worth it.

  The first to arrive, as usual, she pulled her car into the same spot she used every day, just next to the old east barn. She stepped out into the somewhat chilly morning, a quick shiver running through her body. Dang, they say it’ll be a great day, but it’s brisk enough this morning.

  The sound of her car had moved the giants inside the barn to life. Her heart lifted as she heard the rumble of their voices and the sound of their thousand-pound bodies moving on the old wooden floor. She didn’t want to pull open the large sliding door the horses would use later in the day, so she stepped through the human-sized door and turned on one bare-bulb light, creating a dim, almost surreal atmosphere in the barn. Heads bobbed and hooves clumped, stretching long, powerful muscles. The sweet smell of hay and straw and grains filled her senses. Her already-muddied boots moved quietly over the well-worn floors of the barn. Big brown eyes stared at her, while snorts and the occasional whinny welcomed her into this special domain. This was where she felt most comfortable and a warm rush of satisfaction rose in her as she looked at each of the beautiful creatures─creatures who counted on her for their well-being.

  As she headed for the large bin in which breakfast was held, a blend of oats and other grains, a strange sensation crept up her spine. She turned her head to peer into the dim recesses of the building. Pausing, she saw nothing. She went back to her task. But as she scooped out the first bucket-full of grain, the sensation returned, this time verified by the shifting and nervous responses of the animals. She spun completely around. She was stunned. He was right there.

  “Oh, you scared me. What are you doing here?” It was almost a whisper. A deeper, much darker chill ran through her body.

  His voice was smooth, almost soothing. “Oh, my dear. Now, you didn’t think our last conversation was really going to be the end of it all, did you?”

  She took a small step backward. “Wait, wait. We can talk about it. We can─”

  He stepped into the space she had vacated. “No, child. I’m afraid the time for talking is over.”

  She just barely saw it coming out of the corner of her eye. Her head was wracked by the sudden blow from his large hand. It would have sent her reeling to the ground if he had not caught her himself. He pushed her backward into one of the stalls; he struck her again. This time the back of his hand sent her down into the straw that covered the wooden floor.

  He was on top of her almost immediately, the weight of his body sitting squarely on her tiny hips, pinning her to the ground. His powerful hands wrapped around her sleek, thin neck.

  “Believe me, child. This is never what I wanted. I never planned it this way. But now, now this is where we are, and this is what we must do.”

  She struggled, kicking her mud-covered boots, trying to get even a tiny bit of that cold morning air to descend down into her lungs. But his now-monstrous hands, hands she once admired, were crushing her windpipe. His eyes bore into hers. She could just barely hear what he was saying as her mind and body screamed out for oxygen and struggled against the pain. A few phrases came to her, “long trip . . . your own car . . . before they find you.” Darkness began to creep into her mind. She struggled even harder. Her eyes perceived less and less, until all she could see, in the center of her vision, was his face. Then, as her body relaxed and the struggle ended, one last thought crossed her mind. Love in his eyes.

  At ten o’clock on Monday morning, the mood in the offices of Bluegrass Confidential Investigations was somewhat festive. The recently-installed television in the waiting area was rarely on; this morning, however, things were different. This morning the two young women who ran the firm had a special interest in a local morning show. Jet leaned against the molding in the doorway to her office, her arms crossed. “Well, look at that. We’re TV stars.”

  Sonia took a seat on the brown leather couch in front of the TV. She smiled and wiggled two fingers on each hand in the air. “I’m not sure the word stars actually fits, but it is kind of exciting to watch, isn’t it?”

  “Sho ‘nuff is,” Jet replied, slipping ever-so-briefly into one of her many accents.

  A quiet sense of pride filled Sonia’s heart as she watched the images of Jet, Brad Dunham, and her being interviewed on the local morning news program. Sitting on the interview set at the local TV station, in three wooden chairs with dark red cushions, they were all facing Mark Sullivan, the young, attractive male host with the blonde hair and the quasi-beard. It being March, both women were wearing h
eavy sweaters, Sonia red, Jet white. Both had on dress pants. Brad was wearing a navy V-neck sweater over a white shirt and snug-fitting jeans.

  “I’m here with Sonia Vitale, Joyce Ellen Thomas, and Brad Dunham,” Mark had started as he sat on his matching chair, a small jungle of artificial plants behind him and to his side.

  “Jet,” Joyce Ellen had corrected. “Everyone just calls me Jet.” She smiled. “And Sonia’s name is pronounced Vi-tah-lay, with an accent on the “tah” and a long “a” sound at the end.”

  “Yes, thank you.” Mark turned, speaking directly to the camera. “Over the last few weeks, these three local private investigators combined the resources of their two firms. Together, they discovered illegal activities that were taking place right here in Lexington and beyond.” He’d turned to Sonia. “Now, Sonia, is this the kind of work you usually do at Bluegrass Confidential Investigations?”

  Not used to being on TV, even local TV, Sonia’s voice had sounded a bit tenuous. “Well, we generally have more of a local focus at BCI. You know, helping people find missing loved ones, checking up on missing things. Personal matters.”

  “I understand.” He’d turned to Jet. “So, Joyce,” he shook his head quickly, “excuse me, Jet. This must have been exciting work for you all.”

  Sonia had been a bit surprised when Jet, who was also not used to being interviewed on TV, had come off cool and collected. “Really, I have to say that it was mostly Sonia and Brad that did all the heavy lifting. They followed some of those folks right down I-75 into Tennessee; then they followed others all the way to Memphis.” She tipped her head. “And things got pretty intense after that.”

  “That’s true, isn’t it Brad?” Mark turned slightly in his chair.

  Given Brad’s experience as an investigator with the Naval Criminal Investigative Service, NCIS, it had been no surprise to Sonia that Brad had seemed even more at home on set than Jet, although much less enamored of the attention. “Well, I can’t deny that things got a little dangerous for a while. And I do have to thank my good friend from the DEA, Special Agent Roberto Alvarez, for saving our bacon on the way back from Memphis.”

  Mark Sullivan had looked down and checked his notes. “Now Sonia, am I correct in saying that it was your interest in the John Abbott Hensley suicide that got you involved in all of this?”

  A quick image of Dahlia Farm and a man dressed in a madras shirt had flashed through Sonia’s mind. “That’s true, Mark. And at this point, I think we all have a better idea of what was going on there.”

  Sitting on the couch in the BCI offices, Sonia’s eyes drifted from the screen. She remembered well how she had felt at the beginning of the Hensley affair─committed to doing the right thing, but fearful that the whole situation might be beyond her. She didn’t feel that way anymore. She’d seen the case to its completion. She’d actually been the one who had figured out who the key players were. She’d stared death in the face─three times. She was no longer the same person.

  Her attention returning to the TV, Sonia watched as Mark continued. “Now ladies, your offices are right here in town, correct? Right on East Main, over Magee’s bakery?”

  “Well, yes they are,” Jet had answered, her perpetual blonde ponytail swinging as she turned her head toward the camera and licked imaginary sugar off her fingertips. Everyone had chuckled.

  “And Brad, your office is right across the street?”

  “That’s correct.” Brad had answered evenly, with no emphasis. “In the white house, right next door to the school district’s Central Office.”

  “And I assume the name, Semper Fi Investigations, implies that you’re a former Marine?”

  The mention of his time in the Marine Corps had brought Brad’s bright blue eyes to life. “Yes, sir. That it does.”

  “So, Brad, how is it that you all started to work together?”

  Brad had looked quickly at Sonia, then back to the host. “Really Mark, it’s a long story.”

  About the Author

  After a long career as a professional musician and educator, having written several instructional texts along the way, Frank Messina turned his attention to writing fiction in 2016. He holds a Doctor of Education degree from the University of Massachusetts at Amherst.

  A native of Long Island, New York, Frank moved to Lexington, Kentucky in 1978. Having lived there for almost forty years, he now considers Lexington his home and is excited about sharing the beauty and culture of that wonderful little city as he leads readers through the exciting, albeit fictional, world of Sonia Vitale and the ladies of Bluegrass Confidential Investigations. The Bluegrass Files: Down the Rabbit Hole, is his debut novel and the first in a multi-volume series.

  Please feel free to contact Frank or learn more about him at:

  fjmessina-mysteries.com or

  fjmessina.author@gmail.com

  Look For:

  The Bluegrass Files: Twisted Dreams – Coming July 2018

  As Private Investigator Sonia Vitale tries to find a missing young woman, she is unaware of the dangers facing her heart─and her life!

  The Bluegrass Files: The Bourbon Brotherhood – Coming September 2018

  Bourbon and horses, the life-blood of Kentucky culture. Sonia Vitale and her team race to solve a crime, save an industry . . . and save a life!