Deathnet : Bayview Beach Book 1

by P. S. Chandler

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  Chapter 1

  Early morning seaside, in the cool blue-violet light of dawn, Max Loman, Jerry Bowers, and Martin Dixon lean with their bellies pressed against the side of Jerry’s old fishing boat.” Second Wind, she was called; the old guys at the marina joked that this girl was unquestionably needed to navigate the murky waters of marriage after age 50. She was a rust-bucket for sure, equipped for deep-sea fishing on a good day, though her fish box leaked through a rust hole at the bottom. If any of the guys got lucky and snagged a bucketmouth, the whole boat leaned to one side while the fish got reeled in.

  A sizeable pile of groupers and snappers had added their weight to Second Wind. Jerry could tell that the old girl was just about done for the day as she squeaked and creaked. It was his boat, but he knew better than to try and push Marty and Max to leave early. He sat back on the bench, drank his coffee with a two-day-old stale cinnamon donut, and watched the two younger men argue.

  Jerry leaned back and covered his eyes with his old baseball cap. The back of his head banged against the trunk cabin as the boat rolled and rocked. He jerked awake after only a few seconds. The ship tipped

  dangerously, and Jerry slid right off the bench and into the sheerline. He banged his knee so hard that his left leg went numb from the knee cap down.

  The boat leaned like the Eiffel Tower, with the water nearly up to the electric reel in Max’s hand. The three men began shouting and braced their feet against the sheerline. Jerry swore somehow he heard the fishing rod squeal. The rod cried out in agony against the enormous weight. But what was it? Jerry heard of people who caught sharks, even whales, but he didn’t think this was just another humongous fish. If it were Flipper, the boat would have treaded water by now, and sharks were at least smart enough to rip themselves free, most of the time.

  Jerry inched his way towards Max despite the ache in his shoulders and the burning pain in his knee.

  “So how’s your first trip treatin’ ya? Having fun yet?

  “What happened?” yelled Max. His face was a pale purple; his bony hands white-knuckled on the rod.

  “Put it in gear!” exclaimed Jerry. Max raised his hands like a society lady who had seen a mouse. Jerry growled in frustration. He scrambled over top of him and spun the drag reel. Jerry swore never to take rookies out for this kind of thing ever again if they were all this stupid.

  Second Wind slowly rocked back onto her keister as the reel did its job. Jerry crawled towards the shelter and found the pot hauler. He grabbed it with both hands and pulled himself to his feet. The pain in Jerry’s knee was unbearable.

  “You guys okay?” Martin called. Jerry shot him a thumbs up and grinned sheepishly. Neither of them wanted to look at Max.

  Jerry caught his breath and leaned on the rail next to the reel. A voice in Jerry’s head screamed, PU’SH HIM! Nah, the guy’s married, he thought. Besides, he should at least see what kind of monster he’d caught.

  “Whatcha got there, Max? Please tell me, I at least didn’t almost put a knee out over a chunk of seaweed!” exclaimed Jerry.

  He patted the younger man’s shoulder comradely.

  The fishing line struggled and, the drag made a high-pitched shrill in its effort to pull the unknown object. Jerry saw something pale far below the surface of the water. It swayed and moved as the gears made a rattling sound. It was huge. Even Martin hopped down off the washboard and came over to take a look. The ghostly white shape grew clearer with every passing minute. Max almost danced with excitement. He hopped from one foot to the other and occasionally slipped on the flooded deck so that one of the other men had to hold him up.

  Jerry blew his breath, “Alright, alright, calm down, son. We’re still trying to guess what this thing is. And you nearly cost me a boat and a real expensive rig.” The closer the catch came to the surface, the more Jerry realized that Max did not have enough experience to handle such a massive catch.

  “Hey uh, kid, why don’t you step back a little and let me and Marty haul ‘er up? Three’s a crowd, and if this thing’s as large as I think, we need all the deck we can get.” Max did as Jerry said, moving back to the other side of the shelter.

  Martin leaned far as he could over the side. He wrapped the line around his fingers and prepared to haul up the catch. Jerry leaned over to help. The two men pulled together, hand over hand, until the thing in the water broke the surface.

  “Oh jeez, no no no no n—”

  Martin stumbled and fell back, nearly taking Jerry down with him. Marty’s fingers tangled in the line. Jerry planted his feet on the deck and pulled; every muscle in his shoulder ached.

  “What? What did I—” Max clambered towards the edge of the boat, arms outstretched like he was on a tightrope.

  Jerry pulled with all his strength and leaned back at a steep angle. His feet scrambled to grip the deck. Behind him, Martin moaned and wrapped the line around and around his forearm; he nearly had it. Jerry’s lower back bumped the rear of the boat’s bulkhead as he gave it one last pull. The catch flopped aimlessly onto the deck. Max fainted.

  It was a woman.

  Chapter 2

  The backroom of the casino smelled like it had not been aired out since the seventies. Mrs. Carpenter wrinkled her nose as the old stench of sweat and cigar smoke engulfed the room. She wanted to wear a Halloween mask to make it through the lobby without being recognized. But would it matter? Bennie wouldn’t keep her desperation a secret; after all, it was good advertising.

  “Well, what do you know, “Hey, Lorraine! How’s it goin’?” Bennie backed his way into the room and bumped the door open with his huge backside. He wore a boater’s hat, suspenders, and a bowtie. Even though she was no style icon herself, Mrs. Carpenter pitied him for his pathetic choice of attire, most appropriate for a noon-day clown performance at the circus.

  She smiled wanly at him. “Well, I have certainly been better, Mr. hmm. Bennie. But

  I suppose you know that, don’t you?”

  Bennie rubbed his hands together and grinned. C’mon now, Lorrai
ne, there’s no need for that tone with me! I’m helpin’ you, remember? I’m trying to pull you out of this hole you’re sittin’ in. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  Lorraine bit her lip. She waited another minute or two for Benny to settle himself into his chair— and it did take a minute. He wriggled and squeezed between the two plastic arms.

  “Now, B—Bennie, I realize I put myself into somewhat of a bind here, but—

  Bennie laughed, “Mrs. Carpenter, Lorraine, we don’t have to go through all that, okay? I know you. You’ve been a, uh, loyal customer for a couple of years now, and until very recently, your money’s been good. But lately, something's been up. Wanna explain yourself?”

  Lorraine huffed. “Well, I was trying to explain, Bennie, but you interrupted me! But that’s what I wanted to talk to you about: I’m afraid I’ve gone a bit overboard these last couple of months, with the— with the gambling, and Phillip’s starting to suspect. I’m afraid I don’t have enough left to cover any more payments.”

  She hated to grovel to him like this. He was a despicable man, a skunk, a snake, and Lorraine knew his silence went only as far as her money could stretch.

  Outside the dingy door, the clangs and whistles of people much luckier than she made her cringe. It reminded her of this dreadful compulsive addiction. She turned things around before; she could do it again with help, she thought.

  Bennie leaned back in his chair, running his fat hands over a chocolate moon-pie face. He stared at Mrs. Carpenter for a few seconds. “I’m afraid if we keep going like this, Lorraine, I’m gonna have to tell your husband. I don’t wanna do that, that’s your business, but maybe he can put the heat on ya seeing that you are weeks behind in payin me my loot."

  “All I need is an extension on the loan, Bennie, or perhaps a little something to keep at home, so my husband isn’t any more suspicious. I-I could take a couple of hundred for bills, and that would keep us afloat long enough for me to make another payment.” She lowered her eyes to her hands and bowed her head. “I’ll be more careful next month, Bennie. I swear I will. I won’t let this happen again.”

  He didn’t say anything. Out on the floor, someone else struck big, and the chimes like miniature church bells sang again. Another woman shrieked, though, from anguish or excitement, Lorraine couldn’t tell.

  “You got anything for me? Something I can hold just until you pay me back?” Benny struggled to lift himself out of the desk chair. He was a tall, hefty man. The swell of his stomach nearly bumped Mrs. Carpenter on the nose.

  Lorraine pushed backward in her chair then threw up her hands.” I don’t know what to tell you, Bennie. I got nothing left! I-I’ve already had to get a second mortgage on our house, and Phillip is bound to find out about that before too long; he does all our bills, and he’s a smart man, he already knows about my— my problem.”

  Bennie wrinkled his brow and patted Lorriane on the shoulder. “I wish I could help you get through this challenging time. I wish I could.”

  “If you were an honest man, Bennie, you could have been an actor,” Lorraine retorted.

  “Are actors really that honest? I mean, c’mon, they lie for a livin’! At least I’m straight with people. For example, Mrs. Carpenter, I have absolutely no problem telling you you’re screwed,” smiled Bennie devilishly.

  Lorraine stood frozen with her mouth wide open.

  Bennie shrugged his shoulders again, “I don’t know what else to tell you, Lorraine. Unless you can go out there and win big once or twice, you’re in trouble. Even if you did, it ain’t likely you’re gonna make-up six figures just spinnin’ the wheel.” Mrs. Carpenter’s face turned bone pale white. Bennie shrugged again.

  “I’d suggest you get in touch with your lawyer, Lorraine before your husband does and goes runnin’ back to the old homestead.” He snapped his fingers several times, right in her face. “Where was it you said he was from? Was it Virginia?”

  Mrs. Carpenter drew a shaky breath; her hands now wound so tightly together that her wedding ring bit into the knuckles of the opposite hand. “Yes, you’re right.” He still has his parents’ place there.” A cousin or something upkeeps it for us. Makes the drive up there pretty often, does he? An aged gentleman like himself, travelin’ alone on those winding forest roads?” chuckled Bennie.

  “How much does nice old Phillip get setback for when he pops his clog?”

  “Huh,” Lorraine’s heart pounded in her chest.

  And you don’t have any kids, right, so it’d all come to you?”

  “You don’t hurt him! Don’t you dare hurt him; he’s got nothing to do with this!”

  Bennie raised his hands in a ‘don’t shoot’ posture. “I’m not sayin’ I would do anything. I’m just givin’ you something to think about. If Phil were to have an unfortunate accident, he’d never find out about the debt. He may have enough to get you out of trouble. I’m just shootin’ out ideas here, little lady.”

  Mrs. Carpenter’s chin quivered. “I’ll figure something out, and it is not going to involve you putting a hit out on my husband.” She hesitated. “That will be all for now, Bennie. Thank you for taking the time to talk to me, she said. She sank her teeth into her lower lip.

  Bennie bent at the waist slightly and tipped his hat to her. Lorraine kept her composure, rolled her eyes, and loathed the day she ever met this rotten scoundrel.

  “My absolute pleasure, Mrs. Carpenter. I hope you have a wonderful night.” He winked at her before she turned her back to him and marched quickly out of the office.

  Chapter 3

  Detective Ace Stone leaned back in his old pine rocking chair. He nodded off as his two bulldogs snoozed noisily at his feet; when his phone vibrated and startled him.

  "Hi, just calling to check on Morpheus. How's he doing? Remember his meds."

  "Laur, don't worry, taking excellent care of your baby, following Dr. Kim's order. Remember, it's only a minor bacterial infection. On my way to check on her now."

  Otis the Pug waddled behind Ace. This part of the house had been Lauren's pet project a couple of years ago. Far from being afraid of snakes, like most people expected women to be, she adored them. She collected them the way Ace adopted dogs.

  When their marriage had still been new and the house newly theirs, Lauren worked and converted the garage into a shelter for every scaly creature she found. She kept them in plastic totes, terrariums, and for the VIPs, spent nearly six hundred dollars on something called a 'reptile lounge.' To Ace, it was a gigantic metal microwave with a lock on it.

  The longest resident of the homemade snake house box was Morpheus, a Burmese python who had sole residency of the fancy microwave for three years. Lauren had—and still did— pull this beast out of his cage two or three times a week. She carried him out to the driveway and curled up on the warm pavement with him as if he were a new puppy.

  It was her slightly insane love for animals that no one else wanted to mess with that grabbed Ace’s attention. He remembered the only rule he'd been able to enforce on Lauren: if she had to have Morpheus, none of the others were allowed to be thicker than his arm.

  Just as well; out of some kind of self-martyring act, she insisted he keep the house in the divorce. It wasn’t a dream home by any means, but by southern Florida standards, it was solid, clean, and not infested with anything they hadn't brought in themselves.

  He visited her place in town, just a few blocks from the station. It wasn’t bad compared to some of the neighbors’ homes. But the times she'd invited him over for dinner, he'd felt guilty; he just couldn't help it.

  Ace even suggested that the two of them live in the house as roommates, but Lauren thought this suggestion was a joke. ‘Are we that bad at being divorced that we still want to live together? How sad is that?’ she cackled.

  So, he’d kept the dogs and the snakes at his place, and she came over to visit Morpheus when she could. They got along great at the office and in the field. Everyone there knew they once shared a house
and a bed and had even nearly started a family together. Some were less casual about it, mainly the guys and those who wished they'd 'gotten' her first.

  Ace's phone vibrated and rang again. He sulked and answered the phone. "Hey, Chief, What's up?" "Gotcha. I'll be there in a few. Does L—I mean did Detective Jacobs get called in on this, too?" I'll be there in fifteen. Thanks, Chief. See ya soon."

  ◆◆◆

  Chief Hal Maloney sat rigid at his desk. His fingers spread out over the collection of glossy photos in front of him. Her skin was greyish and patchy from her time in the water. But her milky white eyes still in their sockets reminded Hal that she was once a vibrant woman. His office door swung open.

  "Ah, Stone, glad you’re here. Sorry to call you in on a Saturday but, uh, something like this—" He handed one of the photos to himAce was a muscular man, broad in the shoulders and hips. He stood with his feet far apart and took up most of the space in the tiny office with glass walls.

  "When did this happen?"

  "Very early this morning. Some deep-sea fishermen pulled her out of the water just before dawn. That explains the, uh—" He gestured at his chest, just above the collarbone. "One of the guys' hooks snagged her. She was down really deep."