Cold Dead Hands (A Mike Casper Thriller Book 1)

by Sebastian Blunt

  There was dead silence. The wheels in Bruner’s brain were spinning at warp speed. Puzzle pieces started swirling around his head. Clemp. Casper. If he killed her, then he must have had a damn good reason. That meant revenge or money. Or both?

  “Help me out here, Harley. Why would Casper do it? Isn’t he risking everything to kill her? What do we know about the widow? What possible paths could they have crossed?”

  “She was in Sicily when her husband’s boat sunk.”

  “And Casper was in Italy. So what?”

  Harley began to speak, but John held up a hand to cut him off. “I don’t have time to entertain your crazy theories, detective. Go find out what really happened. That’s all you focus on. You’ve got two days.” Bruner pointed to the door.

  Chapter 30

  There was a good part and bad part about telling Rosalita that Casper was back in New York. The first being that she would now focus resources on finding him. The really rotten part was that as word spread, the wrong people might hear about it. That could be as bad as the F.B.I. or the D.E.A.

  Strategically, word got out. The gangbangers on the street were told there would be a payday if they saw him. And the order was just to call a number—no one was to touch Mike Casper.

  In truth, the other significant threat was Glenda Jones. She was laser-focused on scooping up bits of information from a variety of sources—none of whom knew that Glenda was asking. Every inquiry would be shrouded in a network of gangsters, dealers, cops, and users. On the dark, dark web, she was just another anonymous name parading as a meaningless link in a chain of criminals.

  “Moe. How good of a detective do you think I would be?”

  Glenda’s friend smirked. “You would suck at it. Why?”

  “Mike Casper is in New York.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “Yes. I agree. He’s lost his mind. But he’s back, and everyone is looking for him. Bruner’s people and the drug queen’s thugs.”

  “I guess I owe you fifty bucks.”

  “We didn’t make a formal bet on it. But, it gets even better. I’ve got a bad copy of a picture that was temporarily tacked up on the wall of Suffolk County Homicide.”

  “Honestly, Glenda. You’re creeping me out.”

  “Listen, Moe. I know a lot of people.” Glenda leaned back on the sofa, feeling somewhat triumphant. “Check this out.”

  Ex-Sergeant Gold took the photo from her hand. “What am I looking at?”

  “That’s two people walking away from a murder scene out in Calverton, Long Island. The guy there with most of his profile showing is Casper.”

  “Get out of town! Who’s the chick—I mean woman in the jacket?”

  “Unknown. But this is where the Clemp widow got murdered along with three men. They haven’t released the cause of death of the woman, but the guys had penetration wounds. Nasty ones made with a wooden stick. Does that sound familiar?”

  “Broom handle?” asked Gold with a startled expression.

  “I don’t know. Everyone is tight-lipped out there, but I managed to confirm that it was a piece of wood. It appears that Casper has a favorite weapon.”

  “They’re going to find D.N.A., Jones.”

  Suddenly, Glenda shook her hands in frustration. “That won’t help because they will find Mike and kill him before I can talk to him. I need to get those pictures the guy took of Bruner. If they get to him first, they will finish hunting me down, and I’ll be gone too. I mean dead, dead, and dead.”

  “You have to figure out who the woman in the hoodie is. And, you need to know why he killed the widow.”

  “Claire Clemp was in Sicily when Casper was in Italy.”

  Moe Gold grinned. “In police work, we would say that is a big coincidence. Too big.” He headed towards the kitchen and then yelled back to Jones. “Hey. You want some gefilte fish?”

  *

  Harley counted down to one hour before his two-day deadline and returned to sit in the same chair outside the chief’s office. He glanced over at the secretary, but she preempted him by holding up her ring hand.

  “I got the message loud and clear last time,” he announced. “Do you know if he’s going to be a long time?”

  “He’s not here.”

  “Oh. Alright. I’ll wait.”

  Eleven minutes later, Bruner entered the outer office. The detective stood up immediately like a soldier in front of his C.O.

  “You’re 45 minutes early,” said John. “Nevermind. Come in.”

  Bruner circled to his chair after shutting the door. “Sit.” Harley sat. “What’d you find out?”

  “Chief. Why did Casper run away from Pellaro? You told me that he was in that little town, and then the girl, probably his girl, got murdered—”

  “And because of that murder, you think he comes here and sticks his neck out to even with Claire German?”

  “And the detective from Belize came up here thinking that our corpse out there in Suffolk County committed two killings on his little island. Then we blew him off, and the guy—Ken Manshu—gets stabbed to death on York Avenue.”

  “Whoa. Hold on. What detective?”

  “A few weeks ago, Detective Kenneth Manshu came up from Belize to ask us about Claire German.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before? He was stabbed on the eastside by York, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t I hear that he was in to ask about Clemp?”

  “He didn’t have any evidence. It was a fishing expedition because they had a couple of unsolved murders on San Pedro Island. That’s part of Belize.”

  “You’re not making any sense. What does that have to do with the widow?”

  “She was in Belize when the murders happened. Which, by itself, doesn’t mean shit, but she also made a couple of big deposits right after the murders. And, there was a teenage girl witness on the beach there, but it was weak.”

  Bruner looked like he was going to explode. “Are you telling me that Manshu comes here all the way from Belize, and then you fluff him off? Then he gets knifed on York, and it just falls through the cracks?”

  “We had no evidence. Homicide is still working the Manshu case, but now with Claire German dead, it’s getting complicated.”

  John calmed himself. “It’s beginning to sound like Claire German may have been quite the evil psycho. For argument’s sake, let’s say that Manshu was right. Claire takes out our Belizian cop, but she was also in Sicily. They said there was nothing to the case of Clemp sinking other than an accident at sea. But, the widow got a payday of $30 million, right?”

  “Yes. But there’s more. Manshu’s sister, Kimberly, came up to I.D. the body. I was there. She was curious to know about her brother’s case. It’s pretty clear to me that the sister knew about Claire’s possible involvement in the Belize murders.”

  “By itself, that doesn’t mean diddly. Let’s go back to Mike. What if our friend Casper saw something? Let’s just speculate. The man has ridiculously bad luck. He witnesses Claire doing something in Italy. The odds are so damn low that I’m really reaching here, but Claire then tries to track down our swimming fisherman. And why did Casper have to swim? Because his boat sank. And—”

  Harley completed the thought. “And she thought he went down in the Med just like Clemp. But he didn’t. He survived, so she went hunting and ended up killing the girlfriend. And they found her taped to a chair—like she was being interrogated.”

  “Is that your hypothesis? It’s really out on a limb. Do you think that Mike Casper came to New York to get justice?”

  The detective nodded. “The guy’s got balls the size of a blimp.”

  “Where’s the sister?” asked Bruner.

  “I assumed that she took her brother’s body back to Belize to bury him.”

  “Do you know what ‘assume’ means?”

  “Yes. Sorry. Anyway, the Manshu woman works at a big bank in San Pedro called Jefferson Town Bank.”

  John stab
bed the intercom button on his desk. “Kristin. Get me the number for Jefferson Town Bank in San Pedro, Belize.” He looked up at Harley.

  “Sir. Are you thinking that the black chick in the picture with Casper is the sister from Belize?”

  “No way. It has to be Glenda.”

  Harley wanted to voice an extreme objection but thought better of it. Instead, he said, “They’re holding hands.”

  Bruner looked back at the photo, raised an eyebrow, and replied, “It does appear that way.” He thought about it. The whole thing was illogical. “Hmm. That is a very good point, Harley. On the other hand, we’re all forward-thinking around here, aren’t we? And Glenda Jones is a pretty woman.”

  The intercom dinged. John answered and got the number for the bank. “Harley. Call the bank. Don’t ask for the manager. Just ask the receptionist if you can speak to Ken’s sister.”

  The detective dialed the number using his cellphone. Following up with Kim would be entirely normal for a cop on the case.

  A sweet voice answered. “Jefferson Town Bank. Annette speaking. How may I help you?”

  “This is Detective Harley from New York City. Ms. Manshu was here a couple of weeks ago to take care of her brother. May I speak with her please?”

  There was a pause on the line. “Your name is Detective Harley?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sir. Kimberly hasn’t returned from the United States yet.”

  “Did her brother’s body come back for the funeral?” he asked.

  “Yes, Sir. It was a very sad affair for everyone in San Pedro. Is something wrong with Kim?”

  “Nothing that I know about, Annette. I just wanted to make sure that everything went alright with the return of Ken to Belize. Thanks very much.” He hung up.

  “What did she say?”

  “Kimberly Manshu didn’t come back to the island yet.”

  “That doesn’t mean she isn’t in Belize, Does it?” asked Bruner.

  “What I meant to say was that she didn’t come back from the United States, according to the girl on the phone.”

  He knitted his brow while Harley sat back across the desk and waited.

  “So the woman with Casper is Kim Manshu?” He asked rhetorically. “And she’s holding hands with Mike Casper after murdering Claire Clemp?”

  Harley, who’d been a fan of Hitchcock, felt like Jimmy Stewart in Vertigo. “Geesh! The two of them hooked up somehow and then got even with Claire Clemp for murdering their loved ones? If it wasn’t illegal, I’d be cheering them on.”

  Bruner knew he was on his way to a full-blown migraine. How in hell would he explain this to Rosalita? His face was a bit flustered. “Get out there and hunt them down. Do not post an A.P.B. Do not mention the name Manshu, only that Casper is with a tall, African American woman. And that only goes to the guys in our network. You understand?”

  After Harley left, John dialed the Suffolk County chief. He didn’t like the guy, never did, but that was irrelevant now.

  “Hey. This is John Bruner. I’m sure you’re busy. So am I. You know the Clemp murder you’re working on?

  “It’s taking over my life, John,” answered the other chief.

  “I read it was a rental house. What name is on the rental?”

  “Do you think we didn’t follow that lead?”

  “I’m sure you did. I’m not questioning your competence. Some guys in Homicide are wondering if they might recognize the name.” Bruner did not want to get into a territorial pissing contest.

  “Oh. Well, it is—one second. The name and credit card given to the owner was in the name of a—Collin Jones. So far, we’ve discovered that he’s a Brit with an address a couple of hours away from London. That’s all I can give you—we’re going to carry the ball on this one—alone.”

  John grumbled “Goodbye” and hung up. The name and address weren’t going to go anywhere. Out in Suffolk County, they’d be spinning their wheels for a month. Collin Jones, he thought. Casper was better than he’d anticipated. His mind drifted back to his counterpart out on Long Island, who insisted on investigating solo. What a prick.

  Chapter 31

  They slept until three in the afternoon. Kim stirred in the dark and was gratified that Mike was still near her, his breathing relaxed and deep. Gradually he also awoke but didn’t move. She turned to face him and gauge his mood, but there was too little light to read his expression.

  “Good morning,” he whispered.

  “Is it still morning?”

  Mike checked his watch. “Three in the afternoon.”

  Neither one of them made a move to leave the bed. She found herself suddenly hoping that he would hold her again, but Kimberly Manshu was shy when it came to men. In college and beyond, her count of boyfriends was statistically insignificant. She sensed that things could get awkward if she didn’t do something, which would passively ruin any chance for the future.

  Kim overcame her self-doubt and reached out to touch his chest. When he didn’t flinch or pull away, her desire for him grew. She brought her lips to his, and Mike didn’t resist. They kissed, and he felt drawn to her—it was overwhelming.

  “I want you to be with me,” she said, not knowing where the courage came from, but it felt right.

  He pressed his body tightly to hers. Mike ran his hand along her back. This amazing woman was radiating waves of sensual energy.

  “Kim,” he breathed. “I want you so badly.”

  Her body was smooth as he reached inside her top and tentatively touched her breast. She gasped. It was electric.

  Mike kissed her again and worked his way lower while she pulled off her shirt. Everything about this felt right, and he was aching to make love to her.

  “Wait!” she barely managed to get the word out.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, but,…I don’t have any birth control.”

  Rational thought took control of his brain. Casper wanted her; the power of it was incredible. He marshaled his desire. “Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t anticipate this would happen.”

  “Mike. Consider this just a temporary setback. I’m not going to stop wanting you. Remember that.”

  Her words mitigated his disappointment. He longed for the chance to follow through on what he knew would be intensely passionate.

  “Okay.” He kissed her to let her know that he understood. “In the meantime, I’ll calm down, and we can go get food.”

  Kim returned his kiss. She pulled his hand back to her breast. “I’m listing this as a debt to your banker that you will need to pay, got it?”

  “Absolutely.”

  There was a pancake house not far from the hotel. Mike paid for their room in cash for two days, so there was time. His paranoia was at an eight out of ten, but the food in front of him garnered a ten on the scale of needs.

  “This is so good.” Kim dipped a forkful of waffles into a puddle of syrup.

  “Agreed.”

  After swallowing the bite of sweet and crunchy, she asked, “What do we do next?”

  “We buy a car.”

  “How?”

  “A town like this will have a junkyard. We’ll pay cash.”

  “What about licensing and all that?”

  “For the right price and the right car, we can avoid too much paperwork.”

  “Then what?”

  “We take it to a body shop and get it painted a different color.”

  She seemed to process that. “Is that in case they track us to the car dealer?”

  “Yes. They’ll be looking for blue, red, or whatever. We’ll be something else.”

  He waved to the server. “Do you have apple pie?”

  The cheerful-looking older woman smiled. “The best in New York. You’re gonna want vanilla ice cream on that.”

  Mike chuckled. “Isn’t that an automatic?”

  “Damn right, mister. Back in a flash.”

  The car dealer turned out to be even seedier and more flexible than Casper hoped. Th
ey’d bought a ten-year-old Toyota in an irritating light blue. The transfer docs listed the purchaser as “K & M Travel.” The junkyard guy wrote the bill as requested. Mike also managed to grab three sets of plates that were taken off of scrapped vehicles. According to “George,” the overweight, greasy, balding hustler, he processed paperwork about once every two weeks. “My computer is on the fritz, so I mail everything into Albany now and then. It’ll be under your business name in about a month for sure.”

  The car started okay, and they drove it down the single-lane street back towards the hotel.

  “Wait!”

  Mike slowed the car. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing at all. Take me over to that strip mall.” She pointed off to the right. “There’s a pharmacy there.” Kim winked. “I think they’ll have what we need?”

  “And then back to bed?” He barely got the words out.

  She laughed. “I was talking about an antibiotic ointment for your cut.”

  “Just that?”

  “Well. I suppose if you’re still motivated.”

  Casper made a beeline for the drug store. “I’ll go in,” he said. “We need to avoid being picked up on cameras together.”

  Kim waited in the car.

  When Mike returned, he handed her the bag and sat down in the driver’s seat.

  “Let’s see.” She shoved her hand in and was happy to find the package of condoms. “What else do we have? More hair dye?”

  “Yes. I have to stay blondish. We’re repainting the car and my hair.”

  The trip back to the Econoinn felt like a marathon. They almost ran to their room. The bed beckoned, and in the dark, they learned each other’s desires. No craving went unfulfilled. It was everything that Kim had wanted—Mike also.

  He tried his best not to think about Cassie. She would always be on his mind, but he had to focus on Kim for now and the future. But he knew that there would be moments when Cassie would visit his thoughts. He owed it to her to never forget, no matter how much it hurt.

  “Ms. Manshu?”

  “Yes?” she said dreamily.

  “That was fantastic. Body and soul.”