by Angus McLean
The Chase Investigations
Box Set 1
Volumes 1-3
Old Friends
Honey Trap
Sleeping Dogs
Better Days (bonus)
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Copyright © 2018 Angus McLean
All rights reserved.
Acknowledgements
Thanks go out to all those readers who keep me inspired. Once again, huge thanks to “Tori” who does my covers and provides great advice – you rock.
To those advisors who have helped me with the technical details, and to my law enforcement colleagues who run to danger on behalf of us all, thank you.
Most of all, to my family. You are everything to me.
This is a work of fiction, and all errors are the responsibility of the author.
Introduction
Thank you so much for buying my book. I am excited to share my stories with you, and hope you enjoy them.
If you’d like to know about new releases and receive a free book, sign up to McLean’s Hitlist at www.writerangusmclean.com or email me at [email protected].
Chase Investigations series:
Old Friends
Honey Trap
Sleeping Dogs
Tangled Webs
Dirty Deeds
Red Mist
Fallen Angel
Holy Orders
The Division series:
Smoke and Mirrors
Call to Arms
The Shadow Dancers
The Berlin Conspiracy
The Service Series:
The Service: Warlock
Nicki Cooper Mystery Series:
The Country Club Caper
Introduction
The Chase Investigations series is my stab at the PI genre, harking back to the TV shows I grew up with in the 80’s.
Looking back, I spent an inordinate amount of time watching Magnum, PI, Simon and Simon, Riptide, Stingray and pretty much anything from the Stephen J. Cannell factory.
It was all about car chases, wise cracks, fist fights, shootouts, and girls. The good guys always won and there was never any gratuitous violence or gore.
Pure entertainment.
It was a more innocent time, there was terrible hair and ripped jeans and lots of neon, and it was all underlaid with a sincerity and honesty that is missing from so many shows these days. Sure, there was revenge and killing and law breaking, but it was never done with anything but the best intentions.
It was the sort of TV that was the natural progression for a kid who grew up with the Hardy Boys and the Three Investigators.
As a father now, I would like my son to grow up with the opportunity to experience that as well; not have to choose between a video game or a movie where the body count rises faster than the IQ plummets.
What began as my legacy to my son grew to become a series that I love; I honestly get a real kick out of writing about Dan and Molly, Mike, Buck, Kennedy and all the other misfits and interesting characters that conjure themselves up in my overactive imagination.
So are these books based on fact? Me being a cop, they must be, right? Well, kinda.
Some facts are irrefutable; Auckland is a real city, and Ellerslie is a real suburb of it. Private eyes work in Auckland. Yep, some of the techniques used are real. I’ve worked in the PI industry and have friends that still do, so I can speak about it with some authority.
And that’s about where it ends.
What about the people? Come on, who’s Dan really based on? Is it me? Sorry, no. I don’t write about real people, so if you think you recognise a character, think again. If you think you recognise a case, well, no, you don’t. Check yourself before you wreck yourself.
This is entertainment, people. Pure, unadulterated fun. Sure, there are some dark moments; that’s life, isn’t it? But life is actually pretty good, and reading a good book always brings a smile to my dial.
If my son gets a kick out of reading these books when he’s older, then my job here is done. If some readers do too, well, that’s the icing on the cake for me.
In the meantime, settle in and make yourself comfortable with the first three novellas in the Chase Investigations series. Dan and the rest of the crew are waiting to take you on a ride. Plus you get the added bonus of the first ever Chase short story, the first story to feature Mike leading the charge.
If you’re interested in getting updates and a free book, sign up to McLean’s Hitlist at www.writerangusmclean.com or email me at [email protected].
All the best,
Angus McLean
October 2018
Old Friends
Chase Investigations #1
Angus McLean
Copyright 2014 Angus McLean
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter One
The depot was quiet and still at 1am on a Monday, a light breeze flicking the odd leaf or piece of rubbish across the forecourt where the trucks came in and turned round to be loaded.
A row of semis lined one side of the compound, big and dark and empty, all emblazoned with Marcus Haulage markings. A security light flickered weakly and cast only a slight glow through the darkness. The chain link fence rattled and the gate squeaked as it was pushed open.
The man at the gate checked his watch nervously for the fourth time in as many minutes. He shivered even though it wasn’t cold.
An engine could be heard and a second later bright headlights swept round the corner into the street and approached the end of the cul-de-sac where the man waited on the footpath by the open gate. It was an industrial area populated by trade centres and auto businesses and nobody was around at this time of night.
The lights blinded him as the truck swung easily through the gate and entered the depot, making a wide half circle before smoothly backing up to the loading bay. This wasn’t a semi-truck like the ones parked up in a row at the side of the depot, but a smaller delivery truck with no markings. The man shut the gates and looped the chain through without locking it. He hurried over to the truck and met the driver and his passenger as they jumped down.
‘Good work,’ the driver told him with a smirk, ‘let’s get to it.’
He was a burly man with greasy hair showing under his cap. He had the strong forearms built from years of guiding 18-wheelers down the highways and the red nose of a hardened drinker. His companion was of a similar build but taller, with tattoos discolouring his own forearms. He also had a spider’s web tattooed on the left side of his neck and several tear drops inked into the skin by his right eye. He was harder looking than the driver and didn’t speak.
‘Hurry,’ the man who’d opened the gate said, checking his watch again, and the driver sneered at him with contempt.
‘Just ope
n up, fella,’ he replied, hitching his jeans up, ‘let us do our job.’
The first man unlocked the door beside the loading bay then lifted the roller door. He stood and watched as the other two men entered the warehouse, turned a couple of lights on and got to work. Within twenty minutes they had loaded the back of the truck with several pallets of boxes, replaced the forklift, turned out the lights and locked up again. It was a smooth, efficient operation, done with minimal fuss.
The driver and his companion climbed back into the truck and the nervous man went to the gate to let them out. The truck paused in the gateway and the driver wound down the window, leaning casually out.
‘Cheers buddy,’ he smirked, ‘see ya next time. We’ll be in touch, aye?’
The passenger stared at the nervous man with a blank expression, and the nervous man nodded glumly.
‘Okay, okay,’ he replied, ‘just go. Just go.’
The driver laughed and the truck moved away up the road. The nervous man wiped his brow on the sleeve of his jacket, locked the gate again and hurried away into the darkness.
Silence returned to the depot.
Chapter Two
The lady sitting on the red fabric sofa in the corner of the office was well dressed and smelt of expensive perfume. She appeared uncomfortable, as if she were waiting for the dentist or a mammogram. She was middle aged and had perfectly styled hair and flawless make up.
The man sitting on the matching chair at right angles to her was twenty years younger, with broad shoulders and a confident air about him. He had dark eyes and dark hair with a hint of grey at the temples, a full moustache, and was dressed in casual chinos and an open necked shirt.
He looked up from the notes he’d made on the pad on his knee and smiled at her. It was a calm reassuring smile, and it eased her discomfort a degree or two. He had a direct gaze and intelligent eyes, the sort of face that was more interesting than handsome. A faint scar showed at his chin, a patch where no stubble could grow.
‘Okay Mrs MacNamara,’ he said, ‘is there anything else you can tell me that may help? Any particular routine that your husband follows that may help me narrow it down a bit?’
She thought for a moment.
‘He plays squash every Monday and Thursday night right after work. He always starts work by seven and usually gets home about six.’ She frowned. ‘That’s it I’m afraid. I can’t think of anything else.’
‘No problem.’ He jotted it down, got the name of the squash club from her, and smiled again. ‘That’s it, Mrs MacNamara. We’ll get onto it right away, and give you an update as soon as we know anything, okay?’
‘How long will it take?’ she asked, and for the first time her voice quavered. She paused to re-gather herself before continuing. ‘I mean, will I hear from you this week?’
‘It really depends on what your husband does and what we find, Mrs MacNamara.’
He stood and she followed suit, allowing herself to be ushered over to the desk by the door. ‘We’ll be in touch as soon as we can, hopefully in the next few days.’
She nodded and he gave her that reassuring smile again.
‘If you can give your deposit to Molly I’ll quickly print off a contract for you.’
He moved to the second desk in the office, which faced the first one across the floor space. Mrs MacNamara turned to the woman at the first desk-Molly-and passed her a gold Visa.
Molly took it and used it to take an electronic deposit of ten hours work. She was a striking woman of classical beauty, with wavy dark hair and sparkling, friendly green eyes. She had full red lips and wore little make up-mainly because she didn’t need to. She had the sort of look that defied pigeonholing. She could pass for a European or a country girl, depending on what she wore. Today she wore a simple black skirt and silver blouse, elegant and understated.
Mrs MacNamara cast a furtive look at the man as he printed out a contract for her. He seemed like a nice person but she sensed he was not the sort to mess with. She glanced back at Molly, who was smiling at her and holding her card and receipt out for her. Her eyes smiled as well as her mouth, and Mrs MacNamara felt herself smile in return.
The man came over and gave her a copy of the contract and had her sign his copy. She folded it and put it in her bag with her card and receipt. Then he handed her a business card and smiled again. Molly smiled again too, and Mrs MacNamara felt a little better. She thanked them and allowed him to hold the door for her.
‘We’ll be in touch,’ he told her, and closed the door behind her.
Mrs MacNamara walked towards the stairs down to the street. She could hear the motorway behind her on the other side of the building, and the main street of Ellerslie village was in front of her. She looked at the card in her hand.
Chase Investigations, it said. Dan Crowley, Director. It was a plain white card with blue lettering, the company’s name in italicised lettering across the top as if it really was chasing something, his name and title below it in smaller letters. Address and contact details at the bottom.
She tucked it into her bag with the rest of the stuff, and checked her watch. It was 930am. Nearly time for her manicure.
Dan Crowley passed the notes and contract to his wife and went to the kitchenette off the office.
‘What do you think?’ he asked as he poured a coffee for himself and a green tea for her. ‘If we could get a few more Mrs MacNamaras in here with their Remuera cheque books, I’d be happy.’
‘If we get a few more Mrs MacNamaras in here, ‘Molly replied, ‘there won’t be room to move. You’ve got a full week already, honey, and now this as well.’
‘I’ll give it to old Neil,’ he told her, handing her a tea cup and perching on the corner of her desk.
‘He’s already got a full week as well.’ She clicked open the weekly planner on her desktop and opened up the tab for Neil. ‘He’s in court for the Shelby theft case today, he’s got the Parker and Philips fraud, four accident reports due in and he’s got five processes.’ She took a sip of tea and gave him a plaintive look. ‘What, no biscuits this morning?’
Dan went to the kitchenette and brought back the cookie jar.
‘How about you, could you squeeze it in?’ He bit into a ginger crunch and showered crumbs down his front. He didn’t seem to notice.
‘I’ll have to, won’t I?’ Molly sighed and frowned at him. He didn’t seem to notice that either.
‘We need to take someone else on though, honey. Neil’s as slow as a wet week.’
‘He is officially retired.’
‘So he should retire properly then. I’m supposed to be part time but I’m practically full time and you did sixty hours last week.’ She pouted at him. ‘You need to get someone in.’
He sipped his coffee and nodded.
‘You’re right.’ He smiled at her and patted her cheek affectionately. ‘No worries gorgeous, I’ll sort it out. I’ll talk to Buck and see if he knows of anyone wanting to get out.’
The door opened and an elderly man with grey hair and a beer pot entered, a battered briefcase in one hand and a copy of the Racing Times in the other.
‘Morning all,’ he said cordially, kicking the door closed behind him, ‘how are we?’
‘We be fine,’ Dan replied with an amused smile. ‘How are ye?’
‘Ye be good,’ Neil replied, taking a seat at the third desk, the one in the corner with the empty file tray. He opened his briefcase and removed a thick manila folder. He carried it over to Molly’s desk and put it down with a flourish.
‘Here you go, my dear lady,’ he said grandly, shooting the cuffs of his dark suit and smoothing his tie. ‘All my files, up to date and complete.’
He looked across at Dan, who was coming from the kitchenette with a coffee for him.
‘I’m retiring,’ he announced, drinking in their surprised looks. ‘Yep, I thought it was about time. I don’t need to work; I’ve got my pension and not long left to spend it. June’s found a place in Tauranga and p
ut an offer in, it got accepted over the weekend and we move this week.’
‘That soon?’ Molly looked stunned.
‘That soon,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry to drop it on you like this, but we got the word on Friday night. I cleaned up my files over the weekend, all the documents are served, the crash reports are done and photos on the disk, and I’ve done the preliminary work on the Parker and Philips job.’ He glanced back to Dan. ‘You’ll just need to finish it off, Daniel.’
‘Uh-huh.’ Dan nodded and went to his desk. ‘You’re still in court today, I take it?’
‘Indeed, indeed. The last time I’ll be giving evidence, I should imagine.’ He nodded solemnly. ‘No more running round playing private eye for old Neil, it’s time for fishing and golf.’
‘And spending quality time with June,’ Molly reminded him.
‘Yeah, that too,’ he conceded.
There was an awkward silence for a moment. Nobody seemed to know what to say. Molly looked to her husband, but he remained silent. She felt her cheeks flush.
‘Anyway, I better get to court,’ Neil said eventually, ‘justice waits for no man.’
‘I think you mean time,’ Dan told him.
‘Don’t I know it.’
Neil grabbed his briefcase, took a quick slurp of coffee and was gone, banging the door behind him again as he left.
Dan and Molly looked across the office at each other.
‘Be careful what you wish for,’ he said.
‘D’you think he heard me?’ she frowned.
‘Probably.’ He groaned and rubbed his face. ‘Now we really need someone. Better book dinner for four at Luigi’s, I guess.’
‘Ooh, are you taking your wife out for dinner?’ she cooed, making eyes at him across the room.
‘Hmm, something like that.’ He grinned. ‘In company, of course, so you don’t get any fancy ideas.’
