Detective Flint Box Set: A Detective Story Box Set Books 1-3

by Nancy McGovern

  “Oh, I'm Tori Arnold,” she said, trying not to shiver at being called a specimen. “Flint… Detective Flint's new partner.” She kept eyeing the rows of drawers behind him, not quite able to relax.

  “Don't ask,” Flint told Dr. Miles. “And don't start with her. She's too young.”

  The old man was smiled at her with flirty eyes. “Perhaps we could have dinner sometime,” he said. Sitting back down at the desk, he picked up the autopsy report. “Anyhow, it's a casebook death. There's not much I can do with it. The body had high amounts Ativan and Lorazepam. The blood alcohol level was enough to make anyone go to cuckoo land in a second.”

  Flint thought back to the mansion. He had examined Lila Crastdale's medicine cabinet. “Unless she hid her pills or the killer took them, I didn't spot anything. I'll double check, though. Arnold, go back to the security guard desk and call the station. Tell Melinda to run Crastdale's medical history. I need the name of her doctor, too.”

  “Sure,” Tori said, glad for any reason to get out of there.

  “She's cute,” Dr. Miles told Flint.

  “And you're an old man,” Flint fired back, sitting on the edge of the desk. Folding his arms, he looked down at the autopsy report. “As it stands now the death will be ruled accidental, then,” he said angrily.

  “I'm afraid so,” Dr. Miles said. “There was no sign of any physical damage whatsoever, except to the bottom of her feet. The heels of her feet had a few scratches on them, but that could have been caused by anything.”

  “Like maybe being dragged over river rock,” Flint told Dr. Miles, “but that will never hold up in court. Doc, once you release your report this case will be ordered closed. I need time.”

  “I'm sorry, Flint, there's nothing more that I can do,” Dr. Miles said. “I have to mark the cause of death accidental.”

  Flint drew in a deep breath of the disinfectant smell. “Can you delay?”

  “Mayor Duffy and Richard Wilson paid me a visit about half an hour ago.” Dr. Miles rubbed his chin. “Strange that the mayor would come down here with a man from one of them blasted studios.”

  “What did they want?”

  “Both were in a hurry. They wanted the results of the autopsy report. I was in no mood to be rushed or bullied. So I told them they would get the reports when I felt good and ready to give it to them.”

  Flint grinned. “Doc, that's great. Do me a favor.” He snatched up the autopsy report and ripped it to shreds. “Go home sick, okay? Spend a few days in bed. And then, when you feel better, come back to work and finish the report.”

  Dr. Miles watched Flint tear up his report. “You have just broken the law, Detective Flint.” Then he winked. “I do have some vacation time. Perhaps I do feel under the weather and a couple of weeks basking on a sunny beach might be the ticket I need to recovery. But let me warn you, when I return Flint, I have to make my report official, okay?”

  “Two weeks,” Flint said, “and I'll have this case wrapped up.”

  “You know,” Dr. Miles said, standing up again, “I watched Lila Crastdale when I was a youngster. She wasn't great, mind you, but she was a pretty woman that flattered the big screen. It's a shame that her life had to end like this. I suppose I should be used to it by now, but I'm not. I see so many... so many down here, Flint.”

  “I know, Doc,” Flint said, walking back to the door. “I see them first, and you see them second. We make a good team, huh?”

  “Sometimes I wonder why I even do it.”

  “I was wondering the same thing myself,” Flint said, then patted him on the shoulder. “I'll see when you when you get back, okay? Oh, by the way, Doc, how long was Lila Crastdale's body in the water?”

  “About six hours.”

  “Thanks, Doc.”

  “Flint?”

  “Yeah, Doc?” Flint asked, catching a strange tone in Dr. Miles voice.

  “The Mayor was pretty scared and the man with him... well, he wasn't too brave either. That man was clearly hoping I would tell him what I told you. If the Mayor is involved, it's pretty sticky. You’d better be careful on this one. I never want to see you down here, okay?”

  “You got it,” Flint promised.

  *****

  Soon he’d rejoined Tori at the security guard desk. Tori was talking on a white phone. “Oh, here comes Flint now…. One second... Hey, Flint, Melinda wants to talk with you.”

  Flint took the phone. “Yeah?”

  “Mayor is in the Chief’s office. You better get back here ASAP,” Melinda said, her tone serious.

  “I’m there.” Flint hung up the phone. “Come on,” he said to Tori. “We've got to take the stinger out of a wasp.”

  Confused, Tori hurried behind Flint out of the morgue and back into bright sunlight. Raising her face to the sky, she reached out for the sun with all of her heart. But deep inside of her she still felt the coldness of the morgue. Maybe, she thought, walking with Flint back to his car, being a detective meant more than just being a hero.

  *****

  Chapter 4

  Flint nudged Tori with his elbow, then nodded at the empty chair.

  Tori slipped into the seat next to the mayor, while Flint casually walked to the right side of Chief Cunningham's desk and leaned against the edge. “Mayor Duffy, twice in one day,” he said, folding his arms together. “Ain’t I lucky?”

  Mayor Duffy cast an uneasy glance at Flint, assuming Flint might begin running his mouth to Chief Cunningham about their earlier meeting. When Flint remained silent, the mayor bit down on his lower lip before speaking. “Detective Flint, I decided to make a personal visit in order to accomplish two very important tasks,” he said, trying to speak in a secure, intelligent, political tone.

  “Let me guess,” Flint said. “You want to say you're sorry but you're going to have to ask Chief Cunningham to take me off the case. That's one. The second so-called important task is to order Chief Cunningham to demand that whatever information I have gathered so far be turned over to him immediately.”

  Tori turned her head and looked at Mayor Duffy. The man was a fat, slimy, politician if she ever saw one. After all, she should know - her entire family consisted of fat, slimy, politicians. “Is Detective Flint right?” she asked in a tough tone.

  Chief Cunningham sat silently. He waited for an answer.

  “Yes,” Mayor Duffy said eventually, shifting in his chair. “It has been brought to my attention that the autopsy report on Lila Crastdale proves the death was accidental. I have spoken to Dr. Miles’ assistant personally and he has assured me that--”

  “That's a lie,” Flint interrupted in a tone that even startled Chief Cunningham.

  “I beg your pardon?” Mayor Duffy asked, feeling his stomach tighten from nerves. He needed a Rolaid. His stomach ulcer was really acting up.

  “I just left Dr. Miles. He told me the report is inconclusive as of now,” Flint said. “Dr. Miles suddenly stopped feeling well. He told me that he was going to take some time off and finish the report when he returned.”

  “Is that true?” Chief Cunningham pressed Flint, in order to have hard evidence that he had questioned his top detective in order to gain the absolute truth. It was obvious Mayor Duffy was lying, but in order to secure any future moves on the court, he would need at least two people to witness Flint objecting to Mayor Duffy's false story with his the truth.

  “Yeah,” Flint said, refusing to tear his eyes away from Mayor Duffy. “Doc is probably putting in his leave form now.”

  Tori felt a surge of victory as Flint confronted Chief Cunningham. It felt like she was finally getting back at all the bigwigs in her family who were always giving her a hard time. “Yeah!” she said, in a confrontational tone. “My partner and I talked to Dr. Miles, and he said—”

  “That he would conclude his report when he felt better,” Flint interrupted in a loud voice, shooting Tori a warning look.

  “Detective,” Chief Cunningham said to Tori, “please go get us some coffee. Take y
our time.”

  Tori was quite taken aback, and quickly got the hint. Realizing she had become a liability, she ducked out of the office. They wouldn’t be able to do that in a month or so, when she was more experienced, she told herself.

  “How much did you pay Dr. Miles’ assistant?” Flint snapped at Mayor Duffy as soon as Tori shut the office door. “Come on, Mayor, you know as well as I do that Dr. Miles thinks his new assistant has the IQ of a brain dead slug trying to figure out what salt tastes like. There is no way Doc would let that moron near any of his reports.”

  Mayor Duffy shifted his eyes from Flint to Chief Cunningham and then back to Flint. “Dr. Miles’ assistant has presented a report that is secured with the signature of one Dr. Miles that--”

  “It's a false report and the signature is forged,” Flint growled as he sprung to his feet. “I'll have Dr. Miles look at the report and then testify in a court of law the report was forged. Do you want to take that route with me, Mayor?”

  Mayor Duffy shifted in his seat again. Obviously, Flint had thrown in a corner. The truth was he wanted Flint on the case but certain pressure from dangerous people were forcing him to act against his own wishes. Requesting Flint to handle the case had been dangerous enough and struggling to create reasons why Flint had to stay on the case came with deadly risk. But now Flint had to go. “Detective Flint, my staff of attorneys will eat you alive. Dr. Miles is known to be a very eccentric person. I'll have my attorneys destroy his character and have him fired for discriminating against his assistant.”

  “Take your best shot,” Flint said. “As it stands right now, until Dr. Miles comes back and finishes his report, I'm still on the case. That should work out well for you, right, Mayor? I mean, you don't want me to give CBI a call do you? Right, Chief?”

  Chief Cunningham studied Mayor Duffy's nervous face. “You're still on the case,” he told Flint. “Mayor, I request a copy of the autopsy report given to you by Dr. Miles assistant. I will personally take the report to Dr. Miles to see if the report is authentic or a forgery. If it's a forgery, it'll be Dr. Miles’ assistant losing his job, not Dr. Miles.”

  Mayor Duffy scratched the back of his head. It was clear that he was losing the battle. But, as Flint said, maybe losing the battle would work out well for him. He could inform those pressuring him to get rid of Flint that due to certain legal obstacles that had to be followed, he was unable to get Flint off the case. “I'll send the report over to you later on in the day,” Mayor Duffy said, standing up. “Until then... yes, Detective Flint remains an active participant on the Lila Crastdale case.”

  “Hold it right there,” Chief Cunningham said. “You better just sit right back down. I want--”

  “Chief Cunningham,” Mayor Duffy said, heading to the office door. “I still have power in this city and the means to have you dismissed from your job. Don't forget who you are speaking to.”

  “So fire me!” Chief Cunningham exploded. Jumping to his feet, he charged at Mayor Duffy, grabbed the man by his jacket, and slammed him up against the office door. “I don't know what kind of game you're playing here, but this department is going to get to uncover the truth. You come into my office spewing lies at my detective and then think you can slither out of here like an innocent bystander?”

  “You don't get it!” Mayor Duffy yelled. “My life...” Lowering his voice, he looked Chief Cunningham in the eyes with deep fear. “My life is at risk,” he whispered. “I'm dealing with some very powerful men. I told Detective Flint earlier that I want out. I'm running for Governor next year. I want a clean slate, Chief Cunningham. I want to be finished with the past.”

  Chief Cunningham let go of Mayor Duffy. Breathing hard, he read the man's face and decided the slime ball was telling the truth. “Who’s threatening you?” he demanded. “Let us help you, Mayor.”

  Mayor Duffy straightened his jacket and then shook his head. “We'll forget this ugly incident, Chief Cunningham. You're the right man for this job. I was wrong to threaten you. I won't throw punches at you from my office, okay? We'll let Detective Flint continue his work.”

  “Who is threatening you?” Chief Cunningham demanded again. “Mayor, we can help you.”

  “It's no use,” Flint said. “The Mayor won't talk.”

  “I can't give you any names,” Mayor Duffy said. “I will... explain that due to certain legal procedures Detective Flint must remain on the case for now. Violation of these procedures will raise suspicion.”

  “You talking to me or the people threatening you?” Chief Cunningham asked.

  “I will be in touch,” Mayor Duffy said and then, like a rat running scared, hurried out of the office.

  “Told you this was different,” Flint said. Plopping down in the chair Tori had been sitting in, he shook his head. “Seems to me like the Mayor is tired of being a punching bag for Richard Wilson and his kind.”

  “Explain,” Chief Cunningham ordered Flint, in a strong supervisor tone. Pushing aside his anger management techniques, he walked to his desk, sat down, and looked at Flint with hard eyes. “I want answers, Detective.”

  “You got it, boss,” Flint said. Carefully, he explained to Chief Cunningham about his meetings with Richard Wilson and Mayor Duffy. “Lila Crastdale knew something. Something that got her killed. The Mayor is running scared. I think he'll be okay for now, though. He knows too much. Wilson knows he's spoken with me. If they kill the Mayor it'll be hard to cover up. Lila Crastdale's death was much easier to keep silent.”

  “Go bring in the groundskeeper,” Chief Cunningham ordered.

  “If it's okay, I would prefer not to,” Flint objected. “Chief, the groundskeeper was paid off. Let me question him and then have him tagged. I bet ten-to-one he'll leave the city. That's what we need Wilson to see. After he leaves the city, then we can snatch him up.”

  Chief Cunningham considered Flint's suggestion. “I agree,” he said, rubbing his chin. “Flint, the ball is in your court. I'm a rookie when it comes to handling these studios. I can track down in a lost dime in the Bronx, but when it comes to these studios, I'm afraid I'm really of no help. At least not yet.”

  “The studios are a world of their own,” Flint replied. “Chief, I've seen innocent young girls arrive in this city full of stupid dreams about becoming famous, and then I see them sleeping in alleys, broken and destroyed, cast aside and forgotten.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “Lila Crastdale,” Flint continued, “knew someone at Dry Canyon Studio. She didn't hit the big screen just because her agent managed to get her into a reading, I bet my shield on that. I've got a lot of work to do, but I think my train of thought on this one is heading in the right direction.”

  “The ball is in your court,” Chief Cunningham reiterated, “but take off the kid gloves, now. I want answers.”

  “The gloves went off when Wilson threatened me,” Flint promised. “By the way, Dr. Miles did give me a full report.”

  “And?”

  “Lila Crastdale's body was pumped full of sedatives and alcohol. He's going to have to rule her death accidental. I managed to convince him to take some time off, just long enough for me to solve this case. Doc didn't take well to Wilson and the Mayor demanding answers from him, so they went and put some green paper in his assistant’s hand.”

  “Who is this assistant, anyway?”

  “Some college kid who thinks the world can't get along without him for a single second,” Flint said in a disgusted tone. “His old man is a surgeon and pulled a few strings to get his kid a job with Dr. Miles.”

  “Maybe you can elbow this kid in the rib enough to make him confess? That would give me enough room to issue a warrant for his arrest.”

  “Wilson has a team of attorneys that would eat us alive if we tried,” Flint warned. “Let me play this guy my way, Chief. He's a slippery fish. The studios are protected by teams of money hungry attorneys are skilled at manipulating the court system to their advantage. It's easier to sue Switzerland
for gold than to bring the criminals in those studios to justice.”

  “It's really that way?” Chief Cunningham asked, sickened to his stomach.

  A kick at the office door made Flint pause. He got to his feet and opened the door to find Tori, balancing three cups of hot coffee in her hands.

  “Change of plan,” he told her, “no coffee. Meet me at the car in ten minutes with Lila Crastdale’s medical information. Now go on, scram.”

  Tori’s face clouded over with anger. “What?!”

  “Ten minutes, Arnold.” He began to slam the door shut in her face, but Tori was quick and stuck her foot in the way.

  “Don’t speak for us all, Flint,” Chief Cunningham said. “I’ll have that coffee, please, Arnold.”

  Tori stalked past Flint with a satisfied smile.

  “Thanks, Arnold,” Chief Cunningham said as she set his cup down on the table.

  “You’re welcome,” she said, then left the room without giving Flint a second look. “Jerk,” she said on her way out.

  Flint grinned. “She's coming around.”

  “Speaking of Ms. Arnold,” Chief Cunningham said, “this case may not be the first she needs to tag along on. I can pull her for now.”

  “Nah,” Flint said. “I’ll admit she’s not a professional, but somewhere inside of her... and I know I'll regret saying this for the rest of my life... but somewhere inside of her, there is a good detective. She's clumsy, and inexperienced, yeah. A bit goofy and reminds me of Bozo the Clown, but I think she’ll make it. I think she’ll be a good detective.”

  “Flint, I didn't know Lila Crastdale’s death would take this path when I assigned Ms. Arnold to you. If she gets hurt, I'll lose my job.”

  “I won't let Pippi Longstocking get hurt,” Flint promised. “To be honest, Chief, she's going to come in handy. My new partner is going to go undercover at Dry Canyon Studio.”