Slivers of Glass

By Janet Elizabeth Lynn and Will Zeilinger

Summer 1955: The body of a woman thought to be killed three years earlier is found behind a theater in Hollywood. Movie stuntman Skylar Drake, a former LAPD detective, is dragged into the investigation. He can make no sense of the crime until he discovers a dirty underworld and unearths deep-seated... greed.

The hunt takes Drake to places he’d never expect. He’s anxious to close this case and get back to his business in L.A., but he’s constantly haunted by the memory of his wife and young daughter, killed in a mysterious house fire.

With more than enough dirty cops, politicians and crime bosses to go around, Drake can trust no one including Martin Card, the cop assigned to work with him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shorebird
• Release date: Nov 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311862990

Janet Elizabeth Lynn

Janet has been writing for 10 years and writes mysteries. She has traveled to the far corners of the globe for work and pleasure. A semi retired clinical speech pathologist she loves to garden and play with her 7 year old niece Jenny. She lives in Southern California with her husband, Bill.

Book preview

Slivers of Glass

A Skylar Drake Mystery

by

Janet Elizabeth Lynn and Will Zeilinger

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2014-2017

Janet Elizabeth Lynn and Will Zeilinger

All rights reserved.

ISBN:1505439663

ISBN-13: 978-1-505-43966-3

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-311-86299-0E

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 Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedication

To our family without whom life would not be complete.

We give thanks for their love and support

with each of our stories.

Acknowledgements

This novel could not have been completed without the support and guidance of many kind souls.

Docents Chuck Curtis and Richard Simica at The Sheriff’s Museum in Old Town San Diego, California spent hours guiding us through police procedures of that decade, providing crucial details about law enforcement in the 1950s.

Our late summer trip to Sonoma County in Northern California came at a time when the countryside displayed the full natural beauty of the area. We’d like to thank Joan and Jim Wegele, and all the volunteers at the Cloverdale Historical Society who shared their in-depth knowledge of old time Cloverdale, an amazing little town with a rich history.

A side trip along the Sonoma Coast for research sparked key aspects of the plot, bringing SLIVERS OF GLASS to its full potential. Our thanks go to the Sonoma County Visitor’s Center in Bodega Bay.

Wayne and Beth Fricke added grit and real crime history to our story with their knowledge and insights regarding the Round Barn at Fountaingrove.

Joanne Lynn for always being our first draft editor and to Brock Manwill for his contribution to the video trailer and cover.

A special acknowledgement must go to the members of Sisters In Crime, Los Angeles Chapter, for their constant support and guidance. They continue to help us with the ins and outs of the murder mystery genre.

Other Books by the Authors

Janet Elizabeth Lynn

www.janetlynnauthor.com

Murder Mysteries

• South of the Pier

• West of the Pier

• East of the Pier

• North of the Pier

Cozy Mysteries

• Eggnog

• Charlotte Russe

• Crepes Suzette

Cookbooks

• Recipes from Eggnog

• Recipes from the novel Crepes Suzette Cookbook

• Recipes from the novel Charlotte Russe Cookbook

• The Pier Mysteries Cookbook

Will Zeilinger

www.willzeilingerauthor.com

• The Naked Groom

• Something’s Cooking at Dove Acres

• The Final Checkpoint

Cartoon Book

• Oh Dear!

A collection of funny thoughts for Baby Boomers and Beyond

Chapter One

There were a dozen other things I could’ve been doing besides standing in line at the drug store listening to Bill Haley’s Rock Around the Clock piped in overhead. Though, it was a treat to watch the cashier move behind the counter in her form-fitting white smock. I shook my head and plopped a tube of Pepsodent and a couple of toothbrushes on the pharmacy counter.

She looked up and said, That will be seventy-five cents, Mr. Drake.

I dug in my pocket and dropped three quarters in her hand, Thank you, Miss Abernathy. She placed my items in a small white paper bag and folded over the top. Here you are, and quit calling me that. My name is Emily. Anyway, this should keep you smiling brightly. I only wish I could see yours sometime.

In all the times I’ve walked to this drug store, I couldn’t remember a day she didn’t smile at me. Too bad there was a ‘y’ at the end of Emily’s name. Women with names like Sandy, Cathy or Abby were bad luck. Those ‘y’ women were always trouble and it would be dangerous to get mixed up with another one now.

Thanks, I tipped my hat, When I have something to smile about, I might just show you. I knew Emily pretty well since this place was only a couple of blocks from my apartment, an apartment I lived in because a fire took my home along with my beautiful wife Claire and Ellen my little girl.

As I turned to leave, I winked at the two little old ladies behind me. They stepped back and stared as if I'd just sneezed in their faces. I turned and waved goodbye to Emily only to see her pointing behind me in horror. I followed her gaze and saw a dark green car hurtling toward us - right through the huge windows at the front of the store! The gigantic crash at my back sent shelves, boxes and cans hurtling in our direction. I turned around as glass, smoke, and debris seemed to explode in a cloud around us. At that moment my training from the Marine Corps took over. I instinctively swept up the two ladies and Emily and pushed them to the back of the store. The other customers ran screaming out the huge opening where the storefront windows used to be. I shielded the women against the back wall with my body all the while knowing that my weight could suffocate them, but what else could I do? The ceiling could come down on us at any moment. I held them against the wall while listening to my heart pound. Slowly the tinkle of glass subsided and I released them. Tiny slivers of glass and wood had embedded themselves in my sweater and trousers. You’d better be careful, One of the little old women chirped, Your backside looks like a pin cushion. Best not to sit down for a while.

I brushed off the back of my trousers, then carefully unbuttoned and shed my cardigan.

Emily and the two ladies were shaken but unharmed. I made my way through the rubble to what looked like a new 55’ Jaguar XK140 resting inside the store. Glass cracked and popped under foot. Dangling electrical wires sparked and buzzed overhead. A tall man in a blue golf shirt kicked the left side door open and stepped out. He lit a cigarette, swore and shook his head as he climbed over some debris and stopped to inspect the front of the car. The guy was yelling at someone inside the mangled vehicle, How could you do this to me, Pearl? You got rocks in your head? He made his way around to the back of the car, now blocking the sidewalk. He stopped a kid on the street, Where the hell is a pay phone? The boy pointed back inside the drug store. Are you kidding? What a retard. Forget it, I’ll find one myself.

Hey! I yelled, That’s right, act like a real man and help, He didn’t answer, but disappeared around the corner. When I looked inside the wrecked car I found a young, golden haired woman in what should have been the passenger’s seat, her eyes closed, her head on the steering wheel.

I leaned in the open window, Are you all right Miss?

She opened her eyes and turned her face toward me looking lost and confused.

All at once water cascaded down, hammering on my head. The pipes above us had ruptured, instantly drowning the store in a deluge.

She screamed, Get me out of here, over the pouring water, Please, get me out, pounding on the door with her hands. I struggled to open the door, but I could feel my wet hands slip each time I tried. Bracing my foot against the side of the car, I pulled and pried with all my strength, the water beating down. Once again I tried, but with no success and the woman’s screams for help was too much.

Clouds of choking dust mixed with the falling water engulfed us as more debris crashed down. Through the cascading water, I saw a metal pole protruding from the rubble. With both hands, I pulled it free and used it to pry open the mutilated car door just enough for her willowy frame to slip out. I dropped the pole and carried her over the wet wreckage to the dry side of the store where I found a box for her to sit and rest. That's when I saw the bloody cut on her head and a huge gash on her calf.

You're hurt, Miss! Her hair was matted with blood that curled down the left side of her head. She moaned as she shifted her drenched skirt to the side and touched the gash on her leg, I almost wore long pants today, too. I need to start listening to myself. She gingerly tapped the cut with her fingers. I hope there isn't any glass lodged in it. I held my handkerchief on her forehead concerned with her head wound.

The jerk who was with the woman in the car returned to where I sat with her. With his hair drenched, he stared at her and growled, Look what you did to my new Jag... and look at my new shoes! They were expensive, 20 bucks! You’re an ignorant bimbo, Pearl.

I glanced down at his shoes and wondered why he didn’t seem concerned about his companion.

Did you at least call an ambulance? I asked.

What business is it of yours? he huffed while he brushed the water and dirt off the shoulders of his blue golf shirt.

I got to my feet and poked my finger in his chest, For one thing buddy, your car almost killed me, so yeah -it’s my business! The woman tugged at my shirt and shook her head. I took it as a sign to let it go.

Since you’re so nosy, I’ve called my lawyer and the next call will be to my insurance company.

She looked up at the guy, Arty, I’m sorry...

He cut her off, I’ll bet you ruined my Sam Snead golf clubs, too.

Someone needed to teach this guy manners. I could feel my blood pressure soaring and the muscles in my arm ready to put him down for the count. Look pal, if you’re too much of a jackass to help, get out of here.

Lucky for him, Emily came up from behind and put a gentle hand on my arm. It was good she cooled me off. I was ready to punch the guy’s lights out.

He stopped and looked back at the two of us as he walked out, Don’t worry, I called an ambulance, and disappeared down the street. He didn’t even try to fight for her.

I turned my attention back to the woman from the car. Emily was cleaning her wounds with antiseptic from behind the counter. I hooked my thumbs in my belt and asked, You got a name, Miss?

It’s Pearl. I’ll be all right. I just need to rest. With that, she passed out on Emily’s shoulder. I stayed with them, waiting in silence for the ambulance. How could any man walk away from an injured woman? A woman who obviously cares for him. If I catch up to that louse, I’ll show him what it feels like to be left hurt and bleeding.

The woman came to and rubbed the back of her neck, My head throbs. She was shivering from her wet clothes. Distant sirens became louder. She kept passing out as the ambulance attendants covered her with a dry blanket and loaded her onto a stretcher.

I told them it was either the bump on her head or shock. I saw a lot of this in Korea.

One of them patted me on the shoulder, We’ll take care of her. Bet it was pretty rough over there.

I nodded and said, I’d like to ride along if it’s okay.

Sure Mac, one of them said, ...and you have a pretty nasty cut on your left hand. They wrapped it with gauze. I was so concerned with her welfare that I didn’t notice the deep cut on my hand. It’s probably glass; you need to be looked at. Get in.

The drugstore was in shambles. Emily stayed behind to deal with the police and fire department. I hoped her family could bounce back from this. They’ve owned that place for decades.

We bumped along in the bone rattling ambulance to the hospital. I looked down at my bandaged hand and at the woman with her bloody head and leg. The whole thing angered me all over again. This was not a good time for me to be laid up. I had to get ready for my show. At least my face didn’t get cut up. My hands felt a bit stiff when I flexed them, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle.

The woman opened her eyes and looked me, Do you have a name? I should know who to thank for helping me.

Skylar Drake.

Skylar Drake. That’s an unusual name.

She sure had a sweet smile and killer dimples. I could fall for someone like her.

I was buying some toothpaste when your car crashed... fell out of my mouth. That was stupid, why bring up toothpaste at a time like this?"

My name’s Moore, Pearl Moore.

Is there someone we should notify? I mean besides that moron that was with you in the car?

I need to call my sister... and that moron in the car is my... boyfriend Arty.

Yeah, some catch. What’s a great looking babe like you doing with a self-absorbed numbskull like him anyway? I suspect he thinks he’s God’s gift to women and the rest of the world, too.

That’s not a very nice way to talk about someone you don’t even know.

I know enough about Arty to tell you to get away from him.

He was letting me drive his brand new car, but I'd never driven a car with the steering wheel on the right side before. I was trying to shift gears with my left hand when I crashed it. Now, aren't you glad you stopped in that drug store for toothpaste!

Boy, she had a sense of humor, and at a time like this. I liked that. She’s pretty and funny, that’s a nice mix.

I stayed with her at the emergency room. She was having difficulty answering questions for the nurse. Why can’t I think? she moaned. Suddenly everything is blank in my head.

Shock affects people differently, the nurse replied. Now relax and the doctor will be in shortly.

Pearl turned to me, You know, I tried to think of the moments before the accident, the gear shift, the pedals, the sidewalk, people running, the store front window. It’s all jumbled up like a slow motion picture going around and around in my head. It was as though I was watching it all happen and not actually in the car.

I felt the same way from my point of view in the drugstore but I wasn’t going to tell her.

The doctor came in, and after introducing himself, gently peeled back the adhesive tape holding the gauze on her wound, Your left leg has three deep lacerations. We’ll need to put some stitches in it. He examined it more closely, I don’t see any glass. The cuts are probably from something inside the car.

Stitches? I can’t have any scars! Please don’t make any scars!

She sat up on the table, tugging at his white coat. My boyfriend will be cross should I have scars on my legs. Please doctor, no! She turned to the nurse and begged, NO scars, please. Arty won’t stand for any imperfections; I’ve had to hide my appendix scar from him since we met. Who knows what he’ll do if he sees scars on me.

Your boyfriend should be grateful you weren’t more seriously injured, the doctor spoke in a low voice. I’ll do the best I can. Now lay back and relax.

No! No! No scars, Pearl screamed, pushing the nurse away.

I jumped up from my chair to see if I could help. My hand throbbed.

Thorazine, the doctor ordered, trying to calm her.

No tranquilizers! No, Pearl insisted struggling to release her arm. I’ll calm down, I will. Just give me a second. Breathing slowly, she laid down, closed her eyes and went limp.

Look at that, the nurse said, Her breathing is regular and her blood pressure suddenly dropped to normal!

Pearl looked away as she felt the sting of the anesthetic needle on her leg. She winced only once.

The nurse smiled and drew the curtain. No sounds followed. I climbed on my exam table to wait my turn.

My hand was throbbing and burned with each touch the doctor made. I don't see any glass in your wounds, but you'll need several stitches on your hand and these two fingers. No strenuous exercise for a couple weeks.

I tried to explain that I did stunts for the film studios and had a live exercise show every week on television.

Maybe so, but not for the next two weeks. The doctor wasn’t smiling. "I don’t want you working these fingers or you’ll break the sutures and open up the cuts again.

So how am I supposed to work or do my show if I’m laid up for more than a few days? I’ll never make it. How long do I really have to wait?

At least until the stitches come out next week. Remember, if you break the stitches we have to go through this again. If it starts to swell, you’ll need to wait longer. So be a good boy, The nurse added,