Decker P.I. KillShot

By Bill Craig

A hot time in the Florida Keys. When a boat explodes in the Scorpion Cay Marina with one of Sam Decker's oldest friends on board, Police Chief Monica Sinclair knows that there is no way she will be able to keep the former DEA agent turned Private Investigator out of the case. When evidence turns up incriminating the man in a drug case, Sam Decker smells a rat. Then when the widow arrives on the island and more dead bodies start turning up, Decker knows that someone is turning up the heat! Suddenly Decker has two jobs: finding his friend's killer and clearing his name, before Decker becomes a victim himself...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bill Craig
• Release date: Nov 29, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311641564

Bill Craig

Bill Craig taught himself to read at age four and began writing his own stories at age six. He published his first novel at age 40 and says it only took him 34 years to become an overnight success! He has been publishing steadily ever since that first book Valley of Death and now has 27 books in print or ebook. Bill is the proud father of four children ranging in age from 38 to almost 8. He has 7 grandchildren and 1 great grandchild. Mr. Craig has worked a wide variety of jobs over the years from private security and corrections work to being a grill cook and dishwasher. He has been a news reporter, done factory work and even a stint as a railroad clerk. He currently does customer service work to support his writing addiction. His ultimate goal in life is to break the record held by pulp author and creator of The Shadow, Walter B. Gibson, for writing the most works in a single year!

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Copyright © 2008 by Bill Craig. All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this publication may be replicated, redistributed, or given away in any form without the prior written consent of the author/publisher or the terms relayed to you herein.

Bill Craig,  Crossfire Press Corp. LLC

, New Castle, Indiana, 47362, U.S.A.

  Dedication

To All my children and grandchildren for being there when I needed you through one of the roughest years of my life…With love…and for Kris, thanks

DECKER P.I. Killshot

Table of Contents

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter 3

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Chapter 76

Chapter 77

Chapter 78

Chapter 79

Chapter 80

Chapter 81

Chapter 82

Chapter 83

Chapter 84

Chapter 85

Chapter 86

Chapter 87

Chapter 88

Chapter 89

Chapter 90

Chapter 91

Chapter 92

Chapter 93

Chapter 94

Chapter 95

Chapter 96

Chapter 97

Chapter 98

Chapter 99

Chapter100

Chapter 101

Chapter 102

Chapter 103

Chapter 104

Chapter One

Chapter One

Gil Martin handed Sam Decker a cold bottle of Miller Genuine Draft beer as he dropped into the padded seat next to him.  This is the life, Sam.  I should have retired sooner, Martin took a long pull at his beer, his iron gray hair gleaming under the noon day tropical sun.  Two days growth of iron gray stubble covered his cheeks and chin, making him look even more the old salt.  His blue and white print aloha shirt was unbuttoned and fell open revealing his deeply tanned stomach to the tropical sun.  White shorts and navy blue Top-Siders completed his outfit.

Well it certainly seems to be agreeing with you, Decker took a pull on his own beer, savoring the icy coolness of it under the noonday sun.  Decker was tall and lean with reddish brown hair and pale blue eyes.  A thick mustache covered his upper lips.  Decker had on a red patterned aloha shirt over a white ribbed tank-top of the type often called wife-beaters.  The tails of the aloha shirt hung out to cover the Browning Hi-Power 9mm pistol holstered on his right hip.  Decker usually went armed.  Though he currently worked as a Private Investigator, he had in the past worked for the Drug Enforcement Agency.

I could have done this a couple of years ago if I had listened to Betty.  I tell ya, Sam, if you find a good woman hold onto her with all you’ve got, Martin pushed his long gray locks back from his face.  To look at him, one would never guess that he was a retired cop.  When Decker had worked with him in Georgia on a case, Martin had been one of the top Investigators of the Georgia Bureau of Investigations, or GBI as it was known in alphabet soup land.

All the women I find are good ones, Decker grinned.  He took another pull on the long-necked bottle in his hand.

You still dating the Chief of Police down here? Gil leaned forward his eyes alive with interest.

Monica Sinclair?  Yeah, though I’m not sure where that’s going yet.  We hooked up during the Cosgrove affair, Decker wished he had a cigarette.  He had quit smoking after the Cosgrove case.

Ever think about marrying the girl and settling down? Something in Martin’s voice caught his attention.

What’s going on, Gil? Decker asked softly.

Betty and I split up 6 months ago.  Retirement didn’t set near as well for her as it did me, Gil Martin shook his head.

So you bought a boat and set sail for the tropics, Decker shrugged.  It was an old story.

How does that one song go?  About changes in latitudes and changes in attitudes? Gil rubbed at his eyes.

Jimmy Buffet is always good for advice, Decker agreed, standing. 

Anyway I’m enjoying the sea-faring life, Gil stood suddenly causing the boat to rock slightly.  Why are we standing up?

I was checking out that brunette with the short hair and the highlights, Decker grinned.  I don’t know about you.

Me neither, Martin chuckled dropping back into his seat as Decker watched the bikini clad woman move down the dock towards another boat.

So what did you end up naming this tub? Decker asked, sitting back down himself.

The Ancient Mariner, Martin chuckled.  Decker nodded.

It fits.

They spent the rest of the afternoon drinking beer, talking about old cases, and watching the bevy of bikini-clad women passing by.  Finally Decker finished his last beer and headed for his car.  He had a date to keep for dinner with Monica Sinclair, Scorpion Cay’s Chief of Police.  Decker had no idea that it would be the last time he would see Gil Martin alive.

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Joey Fishbine had just stepped out of the Marina office to take in the magnificent sunset.  Joey was about six foot tall with bleached blond hair and a surfer’s tan.  His blue eyes were clear since he had given up smoking pot a few months back.  He had just closed the screen door and turned around to look out over the docks when Gil Martin’s boat exploded in a blazing orange fireball.  Joey was knocked back from the concussion, through the screen door and took it off its hinges to crash to the office floor.

Flaming debris began falling on both the marina docks and the surrounding boats bouncing in the wash from the explosion.  Many of the Scorpion Cay Marina’s occupants were quickly forming bucket brigades and using fire extinguishers to combat the fires before they could spread.  Joey crawled to his feet and stumbled out of the office, digging his cellular phone from his pants pocket.  He stabbed the numbers 9-1-1 and lifted it to his ear, glad that he could actually hear it ringing.

Scorpion Cay Emergency Services, a female voice answered.

Dude, this is Joey Fishbine at the Marina.  A boat just blew up.  We need it all, firefighters, ambulances, the whole bit! he slammed the phone shut and ran down towards the flaming debris of the Ancient Mariner.

The fire trucks had finally finished putting out all the small blazes by the time Decker and Monica Sinclair arrived at the Marina.  Their dinner had been interrupted by the call and Decker had ridden along out of curiosity.  Smoke still rose from the parts of The Ancient Mariner that remained above water, which wasn’t much.  The boats immediately on either side of it had been sunk as well by the blast.  Monica Sinclair looked at Joey Fishbine who had walked back up from the dock after seeing Monica’s car pull up.

Joey, who owned the boat where the primary explosion took place? Monica eyed the still smoking wreckage.

It was the Ancient Mariner, some guy out of Georgia, Joey shrugged.

You sure? Sam Decker cut in suddenly.

I was looking right at the boat when she blew up, Joey shook his head, amazed that Decker had even had to ask.

Okay, Joey, go have the paramedics check you out.  You’ve got some pretty nasty cuts. Monica said, sending him on his way.

You’re telling me, Joey shook his head as he limped off towards one of the ambulances.  Monica Sinclair cut her eyes to Decker.

You know that boat, it wasn’t a question and her eyes never left his.

Yes, it belonged to a friend of mine, an ex-cop, Decker blinked, awash in his memories.

What was his name, Sam? Monica gently touched his arm.

Gilbert Martin.  He used to work for the Georgia Bureau of Investigations, their version of the state police, kinda like the FDLE, Decker took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

Know of anybody who might want him dead? Monica sighed, knowing how stupid the question sounded before she had even asked it.

Plenty in Georgia, nobody around here," Decker shrugged his shoulders.

There was at least one person that wanted him dead, Monica looked at Decker.

One is all it takes.  And before you say anything, Monica, there is no way I am staying out of this case, Decker shook his head.

I never figured it any other way, Sam.  I’ll keep you informed and hope you’ll extend me the same courtesy, Monica gave him a hard look, hoping he would realize that she meant it.

I will, Decker nodded and then walked off towards what remained of the dock where The Ancient Mariner had been berthed.

Monica Sinclair shook her head as she watched him go.  It hadn’t been too awfully long ago that she had used Decker as a paid consultant on the Cosgrove case.  This time she couldn’t do that.  Decker was just too close to the case.  She also knew that short of tossing his ass in jail, there was no way she would be able to keep him from digging around in it.

Chapter 3

      Chapter Three

Mac watched from the parking lot.  He had recognized Sam Decker immediately.  Mac felt himself smile.  Decker had unknowingly pinned the last job he had done on the island on Benito Juarez, a.k.a. Benny the Jet.  Decker had gunned Juarez down in an old west style shootout on the beach and Benny’s body had washed out to sea never to be recovered.

Sam hadn’t changed too much from the days when they had worked together with the DEA.  The hair was a little longer and showing more gray, he was a little thicker around the middle.  Other than that, Decker looked almost the same.

Hitting Gil Martin had been tougher than the Cosgrove job.  He had known Gil.  They had been friends a lifetime ago.  But a job was a job.  The only reason Mac had stayed around was that his employer had indicated that there would be more work over the course of the next week.  That and the fact that the money was very, very good.  Smiling, Mac turned the key in the ignition and fired up the small Pick-up truck’s engine, put it in gear and drove off.

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

The evening breeze ruffled Sam Decker’s hair as he stood looking at the remains of Gil Martin’s boat.  Who had done it and why?  And of course the even bigger question, had Gil Martin still been aboard when the boat exploded? 

Joey Fishbine had seen the boat blow, however he had said nothing about seeing Gil on deck before or when it had exploded.  Decker sighed and walked over to the crowd of boat owners and started asking questions.

An hour later Decker shook his head in disgust.  No one, it seemed, had noticed anything out of the ordinary.  Hell, he had spent most of the day aboard the Ancient Mariner and hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary.  Yet somehow, someone had managed to plant a bomb aboard Gil Martin’s boat.

Decker shook his head, wondering if there wasn’t a message in the name of his dead friend’s boat.  He tried to remember his Samuel Taylor Coleridge, but was drawing a blank.  Rafael Cortez would know.  Despite being a former enforcer for some of the Cuban drug dealers, he had a degree in English literature from Miami University; something that Decker was one of the few people that knew about it.

Betty.  He would have to call her.  Despite her and Gil getting divorced, she had a right to know.  It wasn’t a call that he was looking forward to making.  In his memory Betty Martin was a handsome woman with titan blond hair and bright blue eyes with lots of laugh lines around them.  She had a quick and easy wit and a slightly sarcastic sense of humor.  She had put up with Gil for more than thirty years, and his revelation that they had divorced had shaken Decker.  Betty and Gil had seemed permanent, more so even than Mount Rushmore.  And they had divorced. 

Decker shook his head.  He wondered what had happened to them.  Somehow, he had a feeling it was more than Gil’s retirement from the GBI.  Yet he had not had the sense that Gil had lied about it.  Maybe Gil had believed it, but he didn’t.  No, there had to be more to it.  Decker headed for his car.

He had Betty’s number on his rolodex at home.  She deserved to hear the news from a friend, not from some impersonal voice over the telephone.

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Monica Sinclair was standing at the doc when the diver came up from the wreckage with the large plastic bag.  Kneeling she took the bag from his hands and hauled it onto the dock.  She felt sick at her stomach, knowing what was wrapped up in the plastic.  Decker would never buy it.  He would refuse to believe that his buddy was running drugs on his boat.

Ben Colby climbed onto the dock.  Water dripped off his wetsuit as he shrugged out of the oxygen tank.  Got your dive knife? Monica put her hand out.  Wordlessly he drew it and handed it to her hilt first.

We both know what it is, Boss, Colby ran his fingers through his wet hair, pushing it back from his face.

I need to be sure, Monica sliced through the plastic wrapping exposing a white crystalline powder.  Shit, she sighed.

About fifty pounds from the feel of it, Colby agreed.  Monica handed him back the knife.

Yeah, she sighed.  Get the numbers from the registry and run down what ports this boat has been in over the past month.

Will do, Boss.  Soon as I get outta my wetsuit, Colby nodded.

I’m gonna get a couple of uniforms to haul this to my car.  Keep an eye on it for a minute, Monica turned and walked away a few