Moon Over Chicago

By J. D. Webb

When cobbler Fulton Moon meets the beautiful Lucy Mathews, she asks him to help her escape her abusive florist husband. An easy task for the amateur sleuth. But nothing is ever easy around Lucy and soon the muggings, a kidnapping, blackmail and, oh yes, even murder begins.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781597051118

J. D. Webb

I have always written. Mostly short stories until I "retired" in 2002. Then I had three mysteries in trade paperback and eBook published by Wings ePress, Inc. My fourth book was Smudge is published by Wild Rose Press. My new book with Wild Rose is Bayou Chase to be released soon. I'm active in over 20 yahoo groups about writing and I own and moderate the Publishing and Promoting group with over 1000 authors and publishers worldwide providing a free source of tips and information pertaining to writing. I taught an online three-week course titled How to Add Suspense to Your Killer Novel for Savvy Authors in 2010 and 2014.

Book preview

Moon Over Chicago

Upon entering Moonshines, a bell rings letting us know someone is there. At about 11 the bell sounded and I approached the counter. Three guys were standing there looking around the shop. They were probably in their twenties dressed like a lot of kids nowadays. Low slung shorts, loose shirts and sneakers from the swoosh company. Unlike most kids they carried clubs. One had a bat and the other two had what looked like rebar rods.

May I help you gentlemen? I was immediately on alert.

The short one with the bat spoke. Yo, we think you be needin’ some ‘surance.

What type ‘surance does you think I need? I tried to speak their language. The other two edged toward the back of the shop. There is a slat wall behind the counter with various foot care products displayed. Behind that is the area housing our repair machines. Off to the right is an entryway to Frankie’s boutique Nails N More. To the left of the entrance is a little counter area containing the donuts and coffee. The two wanderers eyed the donuts like they hadn’t eaten in weeks. Floyd was standing at the counter enjoying a donut. He watched the two make their way toward the machine area. They approached Benjie who was working on the grinder. The closest took his rod and smacked our big Landis K stitcher. This machine is about 5 feet tall and is 52 years old. What that means is, it is made of cast iron and weighs about 350 pounds. There were two clanks. One when the man hit the Landis and the other when the sting hit his hand and made him drop the rod like a hot potato. Benjie began laughing at him and the second guy raised his rod and started coming after Benjie. Floyd had very quietly placed himself behind this guy. He reached up and put his arm around the fellow’s neck bending him backward. A macheté appeared in Floyd’s hand seemingly from nowhere and was poised above the guy’s chest.

Better git on the floor if ya know what’s good fer ya. Benjie looked menacing with a box cutter waving around in the air. Adding to the menace was Amos showing off all molars and growling. Both men dove to the floor.

I was asking you what ‘surance you think we need? The short one quickly dropped his bat when he saw my Smith & Wesson 38 pointed at him. I think you had better go over and grab the floor with your buddies before someone does need insurance. Frankie, would you please call the police and tell them we have some customers for them? She had already punched in 911 and was talking to them before I said anything.

Table of Contents

What They Are Saying About Moon Over Chicago

Moon Over Chicago Title Page

Dedication

Chapters

Meet J. D. Webb

Works From The Pen Of J. D. Webb

What They Are Saying About Moon Over Chicago

Moon Over Chicago is an enjoyable mystery. Readers are treated to a colorful narrative of Chicago as Fulton charges full steam in keeping his friends out of harms way as he aids Lucy in her escape from Arthur Mathew’s. The plot develops at a well timed pace and there are plenty of twists and turns on the way. Along with the action there are plenty of laughs with Fulton’s humorous point of view.

I highly recommend Moon Over Chicago and give it four out of five stars.

—D K Gaston

D. K. Gaston Book Reviews

I loved the undertone of Chicago’s underworld in this tale of Fulton Moon, Private Detective’s tactics to correct society’s wrongs, and to protect the innocent. But as tough as he likes to think of himself, he still has a soft spot in his heart for a pretty face. Much to his chagrin.

There is a lot of great background color to this hard hitting, fast moving tale.

—JoEllen Conger

Conger Book Reviews

Moon Over Chicago by J.D. Webb. What a fun read! Fulton (Full) Moon is a shoe cobbler like none you’ve ever seen. He doesn’t take kindly to threats and has a contagious curiosity. When a supposedly battered wife comes to him for protection, little does he know that her husband, who owns a flower shop and a multitude of exotic cars as a front, is a tough guy with tougher friends. It gets worse and worse, as he is beaten up and his livelihood in the shoe repair shop, Moonshines, is threatened by the angry husband. The seemingly vulnerable gangster’s wife has entrusted him with something that could blow the lid off and when she wants it back, we find out that we shouldn’t trust first impressions.

J.D. writes in a funny, tongue-in-cheek style that is reminiscent of 1940’s mystery series like Phillip Marlowe. It is a joy from front to back and leaves you wanting to read another of his books.

—Morgan St. James

A Corpse In The Soup,

a Silver Sisters Mystery

Wings e-Press, Inc. and

Shopping For Dancing Shoes

in Chicken Soup for the Shopper’s Soul

Moon Over Chicago

J. D. Webb

A Wings ePress, Inc.

Cozy Mystery Novel

Edited by: Lorraine Stephens

Copy Edited by: Sara V. Olds

Senior Editor: Lorraine Stephens

Executive Editor: Lorraine Stephens

Cover Artist: mpmann

All rights reserved

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Wings ePress Books

Copyright © 2007 by J. D. Webb

ISBN 978-1-59705-111-8

Published by Wings ePress, Inc. at Smashwords

Published In the United States Of America

Wings ePress Inc.

3000 N. Rock Road

Newton, KS 67114

Dedication

I thank my editorial staff. Actually my editorial staff is my wife and my writer’s group. And without them my work would just sit in my computer and gather little green mossy stuff.

My wife, Judi, is my first editor. She spends an inordinate amount of time reading, finding mistaken spellings that pass spellcheck, pointing out omissions and stupid things that my characters would never say.

My writer’s group, Sue Hemp, Sue Ade, Debby Miseles, Angela Meyers, and Marilyn Gardiner have been helping this grammatically-challenged writer insert or erase commas, rearrange text and eliminate incongruities to make my books readable and fit for submission. Thank you each and every one.

I thank Lorraine Stephens at Wings ePress for giving me a chance to provide you, the reader, with entertainment and suspense. At least that is my wish.

One

The door was out of focus. And it seemed to be lying on its side. My head hurt and I couldn’t figure out why. I frantically tried to remember my name. Someone helped.

Mr. Moon? A deep voice with vocal cords encased in gravel asked.

Yes, that’s it. My name is Moon. The rest of my name is the easy part but I was still having trouble.

Fulton Moon?

Boy, this guy was good. Fulton Moon. That’s it. I tried to answer but only managed a feeble groan. That door was definitely on its side. A pair of shoes appeared in front of my right eye. They badly needed a shine. My right eye felt as if it already had a shine. Those stars that flooded my vision began to disappear. I was definitely lying on a carpet. My face felt like Marlon Brando used it for the floor and tap-danced all the way through Madam Butterfly.

One eye focused on an object between those shoes and my stars. It looked like a tooth. It was. A big tooth. Whoever lost that one would get big money from the Tooth Fairy. Then I noticed a suspicious vacant spot in my mouth and the greatest part of the pain in my head emanated from that cavern. I connected the tooth on the floor to that mouth pain. That was definitely my tooth. What the heck was it doing out there?

Get up, Mr. Moon.

Yeah, right. Not all of the parts of my head worked and he wanted me to use my body. I didn’t even know if it was still in one piece.

I eased into a sort of half crouch that left my face flat on the floor and my fanny sticking up over my feet. My arms didn’t want to work at first, but I finally got them to push me to an all-fours position. Looking up, I spied one of the largest individuals I have ever seen. Just a bit smaller than the Statue of Liberty. At least 6 foot 8—and wide. Double wide. Easily pushing 275 to 300 pounds. Not fat. His T-shirt rippled just from breathing. The slogan on the shirt advertised Tony’s restaurant. All the letters were easily seen. The huge hand that made the 357 Magnum almost disappear from view was even more impressive.

Was there something I can do for you? I knew what I wanted to say but my words came out slowly. Even I had trouble understanding them.

As you can tell, Mr. Moon, I don’t like a smart mouth. I will ask once again and I would very much appreciate a straightforward answer. Where is my wife? The bald head speaking had a smile on its face. Somehow it did not make him look pleasant. I had the distinct impression that if he bent down, his head would fall off. The man missed the line when they were giving out necks.

Sir, could you please tell me who your wife is? I decided to be polite. My dentist bill was high enough already.

Lucy Mathews. She has been to see you twice in the last three weeks. The head had no eyebrows at all.

Sir, I know that lady only as a customer. I fixed some of her shoes for her. I remembered I owned a shoe repair business. By the way I would be happy to shine your shoes for you. They could use a shine, you know? Are you Mr. Mathews? I would be happy to show you the ticket for the work I did.

She was last seen coming into your shop this morning. The eyes narrowed and those hairless brows were, as they say knitted.

May I get up now? I still wasn’t sure I could.

Yes, but do not make any sudden moves.

Yeah, like I could do that.

I raised myself up with not too much groaning. A little dizzy, but I wobbled to an upright stance. We were in the back room of my shop which I use as storage and a modest office. I leaned on my desk to steady myself and tried to clear the cobwebs. I remembered that the bald man had come in to see me and had already asked where his wife was. I had in very bad taste remarked that I had several men’s wives and could he kindly tell me which one was his. One of those large hams on the end of an arm backhanded me. My tooth and I hit the floor seconds apart.

Mr. Mathews, I do not know where your wife is at this very minute. She is not here and is not due back to pick up her shoes until Monday. I sincerely regret my sarcasm but if you insist upon removing my teeth I must tell you I will report this to the police.

Boy, aren’t we being polite here? Me out of fear and him out of brute strength.

You mean to say that you were not helping her run away from me?

Now I have a smart mouth and it took real effort to not say something like now why would your wife want to run away? or a hunk like you would never have any problems with a wife wanting to run away. My better judgment told me restraint was more apt to leave my remaining teeth in place.

Mr. Mathews, I’m a simple shoe repairman. People bring in their shoes and I make them well again. If there is any way that I can help you, believe me and the remainder of my teeth, I would.

Why was your name in her purse and not on a business card? His words reverberated in my still groggy head.

I don’t have any. I am small potatoes and can’t afford luxuries such as business cards.

The area between his eyes which should have been surrounded by eyebrows furrowed. I hoped he had begun to have doubts. The expression on the face changed to less ominous but not less fearsome.

Mr. Moon, I found your name in my wife’s purse and I thought you were trying to help her get away. I even imagined you might be her lover. I truly am sorry if I got the wrong impression. I get very upset when someone tries to hit on my wife. I love her very much.

The weapon disappeared inside his jacket and for the life of me I could not see any bulging where there should have been bulging. I could see him eyeing the floor where my wayward tooth had come to rest. Send me your dentist bill and I will take care of it. Just mail it to the address on my card. Do not let me find out you are lying to me. I am not the one you want as an enemy.

The card read: J. Arthur Mathews, 160 Harcourt Towers, Suite 104, Chicago, IL. It listed his occupation as Florist. A vision of a bunch of lilies lying on my chest reared its ugly image as he turned and walked out of my office. The word ‘walked’ is a mistake. My business is shoes and I notice how people walk. His gait was at once athletic and heavy. He slammed his feet down heel to toe but it was still a fluid movement. Full of power but exuding the confidence of full control. He had to wear out his heels every other month. He could be a steady customer. As I retrieved my tooth I made a note to see my dentist. Dr. Lipman. No lie, Lipman is his name.

What was that all about, Fulton? Who was that giant? Benjie screwed up his lips as he did when he was puzzled, as I entered the front of the shop.

A florist. He was looking for Mrs. Mathews. Benjie was Benjamin Franklin Washington the only father I have known since I was seventeen.

His father owned this shop for 50 years before turning it over to Benjie. I was learning the repair business from Benjie, when I decided the big bucks were in big business. My career at Starco, Inc. was ended by a young college kid who had a piece of paper from a college instead of the 15 years experience I had. Ten years ago I bought the shop from Benjie when he had told me he was not able to handle everything any more with his arthritis. He calls it ‘arthuritus’. I forced him to accept my pitiful severance. Benjie became not only my mentor, but my best friend.

That lady upstairs? Benjie’s eyes were bulging. What’s he goin’ ta do when he finds out she’s here?'

Well, we won’t let him know now will we? I know what you are thinking. I lied to Mr. Mathews. Actually I was very specific and accurate when I said to him I didn’t at that minute know where his wife was. Benjie had taken her upstairs and settled her in an apartment. So I didn’t know exactly where she was. And I did fix some shoes for her. That’s how all this started.

That smart mouth a yours will get ya in trouble one a these days. Benjie left, mumbling and shaking his grey head. He don’t look like no florist I ever saw. He tilted his head and gave me one of his looks. The one that says ‘how could you be so stupid’.

My parents were killed by a drunk who only got two years and Benjie took me in. I was a rebellious white kid, mad at the world. He taught me more about life and goodness than you could ever squeeze out of any book. I insisted he remain on as a consultant and that he accept a small salary. Our building is well over 75 years old but in pretty good condition. An apartment above the shop housed Benjie and his family for at least 65 of those years.

About three weeks before, Mrs. Mathews came in to get her shoes fixed. She’d heard from a friend that I sometimes help out people in distress. Not strictly out of kindness, but for a fee. A hefty fee. She agreed to pay $3,000 and I said I’d help. That didn’t seem to be much of a problem until my falling out with Mr. Mathews.

Boy, am I going to have to rethink that.

Fulton, Mickie is here. Benjie gets a kick out of stating the obvious. Mickie burst through the front door all smiles and ready for his chores. It’s always a

Reviews for Moon Over Chicago

[jdavewebb · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Great. Sorry, I'm prejudiced. This is my book.