A Warm Place in the Sun

By JON DOBNER

'A Warm Place in the Sun' is a thriller full of crime, action, suspense & intrigue. Follow Jack Furst as he gets pulled into a murderous game of cat & mouse that has rocked Sarasota, Florida. He must deal with this Herculean task while struggling with his own alcoholism, his demons & his discovery that he actually can love and be loved again. The climactic ending pushes the reader to take pause and think about the 'Warm Place in the Sun' inside us all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JON DOBNER
• Release date: Feb 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463400913

JON DOBNER

Jon Dobner is a native of Chicago, Illinois, currently residing in sunny Sarasota for the last 18 years. Aside from writing stories, he enjoys the many thing living in paradise offers. He spends time with his kids and grandchildren as often as he can. He is currently working on his next novel and will be released soon. You may even run into him at a O'Leary's or Marina Jacks sometime. Enjoy!

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Day 1

His phone suddenly began to ring, causing his one leg hanging off the bed to jerk while the rest of him remained in a deep sleep. The answering machine kicked on, but he was immune to it.

Hey Jack, where the hell are you? We got a floater in Sarasota Bay, along Bayfront Drive. Call me right away! Jack? Click. A moment later his cell phone began to vibrate on top of the wooden end table next to his bed.

Faintly hearing the voice of his partner, Lucy Martinez, he succeeded in getting the remaining limbs of his body to move. After another five minutes, he managed to open his eyes and reach for the button to replay the message again. His head pounded terribly like the symbols of a band at a college football game, as he listened to the message one more time. Another five minutes breezed by and Jack finally forced himself into a sub-existence, where he undressed and crawled into the shower. He leaned against the wall under the showerhead of hot water blasting him, hoping he’d feel better.

After a long shower that ended only because the hot water began to fade, he dressed and marched into the kitchen as a new man with a rock splitting headache. It took several minutes of fumbling and swearing until he found a coffee mug and microwaved yesterday’s coffee. He popped four ibuprofens and went out the front door of his condo. The morning sun blinded him, the humid air exasperated him, and squinting his eyes he walked toward his un-marked police vehicle. He was now somewhat alert, feeling like crap, but alert. Thankfully, he located his Rayban’s laying on the seat and put them on. After cranking the AC on high and adjusting the vents to blow directly at him, he drove off. The drive from his Palm Aire condo to downtown and the bay area was about twenty minutes give or take, depending on traffic. With his siren going and headlights flashing he managed to do it in six minutes flat. His juices were flowing now.

By the time he arrived the crime scene was already well established. The entire area of where the body had been found was taped and cordoned off, Bayfront Drive was blocked by patrol cars in both directions, and route 41 to the north of the marina had a policeman directing traffic away from the scene. The crime lab vans were parked on the grass, and of course several police vehicles both marked and unmarked were parked everywhere. SNN channel 6 news vehicles were parked just outside the yellow tapeline with news reporters trying to catch a glimpse of the dead body and to hopefully find out who it belonged to. Their cameras were rolling but nothing much to capture because the police were surrounding every angle of a possible worthy news clip.

As Jack lumbered his six-foot aching body out of his unmarked car Lucy came walking toward him. You look like crap. She said smiling, knowing he was suffering from another famous hangover.

Jack gave her a sneering glance, Thanks, and so do you, he did not look at her directly but instead at the scene before them. "What do we got?’

"So far, the victim is male, approximately mid to late thirties, average height and build. No I.D. found on the body.’

"Any idea what happened, or cause of death?’

"Possible drowning but don’t know for sure, crime lab guys and the ME are trying to determine that right now. They’re also running his prints as we speak, we should hopefully know who he is in a few minutes.’

"Good. Any tell-tale signs or marks on the body?’

"They just pulled him out of the water as you pulled up.’

Well, let’s go see. He wondered why she had to be so perky.

They walked toward the crime-lab techs hovered over the body, and Jack reached into the pocket of his sport jacket and pulled out a pair of white latex gloves. His head still hurt, his eyes felt tired, and his body was sore. From what, he couldn’t say or let alone remember, but he felt as though he fell down a flight of stairs. A strong cup of coffee would be necessary very soon.

The ME was Mattie Davis, and she looked up briefly and saw Jack and Lucy staring at her. "Top of the morning Jack, nice of you to show up. Hey Lucy.’

"How’s it going smart-ass?’

Just fine, thanks. Mattie smiled as she answered him. She had his number and could tell just by looking at him what he’d been doing the night before.

"Can you tell me anything yet?’

At first it appeared to be a drowning, but now I’m thinking something else. Have a look at this. She then unbuttoned the victim’s shirt and exposed his chest. "Look at these black bruises here, and several ribs are broken too. But it still could’ve been an accident. Perhaps he fell off a boat, I don’t know? We have to get him back to the lab and I’ll let you know as soon as I can.’

So then he was either moved here or he floated here? Jack asked.

"Yes, I would say he died somewhere else and either floated to this spot or was perhaps moved and dumped here.’

"What’s your best guess as to his time of death?’

"My best guess would be twelve to sixteen hours ago.’

"Okay, Mattie, call me right away when you have something.’

You know I will. By the way, you look terrible. Time to cut down on that, don’t you think? She said this to him directly, yet quietly enough so no one else could hear.

"Don’t start with me Mattie, dealing with Lucy’s bullshit is all I can deal with right now. Lecture me later when I’m feeling better.’

Okay Jack, no lecture right now, but you know what needs to be done. I’m always here for you if you need to talk, you know that, right? She spoke in a low whisper so Lucy would not hear.

Yes, I know.

He then turned toward his partner, "Lucy, let’s get the team together right away.’

Got it. She walked away smiling after a knowing glance toward Mattie.

Lucy was Jack’s right arm; they’d been partners for the past two years. Jack had managed to pull her out of a desk job in the document section after having noticed her quick wit, and an uncanny ability to think things through as meticulously as a bookkeeper. She had an instinct for detective work which Jack recognized immediately. When Jack first approached her, all it took was one question from him, and her making what was to her an obvious decision. So, you want to sit on your ass at a desk all day, or kick some doors down with me? They had been partners ever since.

The other four team members worked in pairs and worked directly under Jack, so when they received word from Lucy, they understood it was as good as from Jack himself. This six-member unit within the department handled the more hideous of crimes committed by what Jack often referred to as human trash. They enjoyed a reputation for being an extremely tough, no nonsense team of investigators, with a solve rate sitting firmly at 97 to 98 percent at any given time. Many good cops in the department strived hard to join the unit, but often found it was like hitting a brick wall. It was often looked upon as a closed-door fraternity in which Jack alone held the key. Only the brightest, toughest, and most committed were considered. And even then, there was no guarantee.

Roughly a year ago, a good detective named Bob Floyd became quite upset at having been passed over not once, but twice for the opportunity to join this elite group. What had been the impetus of his frustration was Jack’s choosing of Lucy the year before. That alone had irked him quite a bit, choosing a person with zero investigative or street experience, over him. Then most recently being passed over again, in the span of a couple of years. His bitter resentment caused him to secretly make some foolish and unfortunate comments along the lines of Jacks team being a bunch of gay/lesbo cops. The result of spreading such rumors would be something Bob Floyd remembered for a long time. About a week later, Jack met him in the men’s bathroom on the second floor and promptly punched his lights out. No charges or complaints were ever filed, nor did anyone ever say another negative thing about him or any member of his unit again.

CHAPTER TWO

Within a few minutes, Jack’s team assembled around him, waiting to hear the game plan. "Okay guys and gals listen up. As far as I’m concerned, we have a murder case. He’s been dead for over twelve hours, so this most likely occurred sometime Sunday afternoon. We have a Vic with obvious signs of trauma, so let’s canvas this entire area, knock on some doors, and see if we can shake any witnesses out of the trees.’

We’ve got the bay on this side and a row of condos on the other. You want us to go into every one of them? piped Stu Grimes.

"That’s right, I want you and Joe to talk to everyone you can with a condo on Bayfront Drive and Gulfstream Avenue facing the bay and marina. Who knows, maybe no one saw anything but maybe they heard something. Also, I want you guys on a police patrol boat asking every boater and fisherman if they saw or heard anything’

We’re on it, Jack. Joe Wright replied. Stu gave a nod of agreement and followed whatever the orders were, no matter how frivolous he thought they were. He was the youngest on the team at age twenty-five and the newest member of Jack’s team, and still in his probationary period. Stu was still learning how they did things under Jack. A smart kid, Jack thought, though a bit cocky and self-assured; there were some reservations about him but hoped he’d make it.

"Rusty, I want you and Lois to scour the marina and all of Island Park. Talk to everyone docked on a boat, walking their dog, sitting on a bench, whatever. Then go check out Marina Jack’s and O’Leary’s. Who knows, maybe something went down last night.’

Sounds good, we’ll touch base with you later then, maybe over lunch at Patrick’s. I do have to say though, you look half dead today. Rusty grinned.

Yeah, whatever. Lunch at one o’clock then. Jack let out a short laugh and walked away.

During the time preceding Jack being given the opportunity to head up his own special unit, he and Rusty had become partners when Jack had first transferred down to Sarasota from Chicago. Rusty showed Jack the ropes as the new cop in town. They became close friends and ended up having much in common which inevitably brought them to doing things outside of work. Their shared fondness for good scotch was discovered the very first evening they went out for a drink. From there, the friendship grew. They played golf together with their wives at Bobby Jones, and the two of them would go out on Rusty’s fishing boat cruising the intra-coastal waterways. But then, Rusty lost his wife to cancer. The ordeal was hard on him, with the youngest of three daughters still at home. In those first dark months, Jack was there for Rusty day or night, as Rusty was for him when his marriage first hit the skids.

"Lucy, you and I are going to talk to this woman who found the body.’

"Her name is Mary Compton.’

Great. Jack felt tired and wanted to lie down. It was times like this when he seriously contemplated giving up drinking. Someday, deep down, he knew he would. I’m just so glad to finally be rid of you. Damn!

Mary Compton was sitting on a nearby park bench giving a uniformed policeman her information and yet another description of what she discovered and how she came to discover it. Beads of sweat shone above her brow, her hair somewhat disheveled, her voice soft and quiet. It made Jack think of his past and he immediately found her rather endearing.

Miss Compton? Hi, I’m detective Jack Furst, of the Homicide and Violent Crimes Unit. I know it’s been quite a morning for you, but may I speak with you for a few minutes? Jack extended his hand and then gave her his business card. He quickly surmised that she was a strikingly beautiful and classy lady up close. A bit too thin for his taste perhaps, but no doubt a real looker. She had exquisitely sculpted lips with long eyelashes accenting a small freckled nose and cheeks. Her fingernails were meticulously manicured with a pearl white gloss over the tips of them. Her pale blue eyes matched her running outfit perfectly. Jack guessed her to be affluent, early thirties, banker type. The kind of woman who dresses up to go to the grocery store for a loaf of bread and a gallon of milk. High maintenance from head to toe.

Sure, detective. I’d be happy to help in any way, but other than just being the one who discovered the body, I don’t know what else I can tell you. I was on my morning run. She wiped her sweaty brow with her sleeve.

Yes ma’am, I do understand. I’m sure you’ve had to tell the story more than once too, so I won’t put you through more than necessary, but I do need to hear your input firsthand. It really is important.

Mary shrugged her shoulders and began to explain her ordeal, On most mornings I start my run along the Bay and around Island Park and then on through downtown and the Main Street area, as I live on south Palm Ave. As I ran along by those trees over there my eyes caught something that just didn’t fit, a piece of fabric, clothing, whatever. Looking closer, I saw a hand, then an arm, then the rest of the body, but the head remained submerged. I became nauseous, then realized I didn’t have my phone, so I ran to the public phone outside of the Park because it was closer than running back home.

Jack listened intently, giving her his full attention. He was sure she became gradually more talkative because of it. "And how long have you been living on south Palm Ave?’

"Almost seven years when I moved here from St. Paul, Minnesota.’

"Ah, no stranger to cold weather, huh? I’m from Chicago, so I know a little something about that.’

Yes, I suppose you would. Mary answered curtly, wanting to get this ordeal over with and move on to a day already ruined.

Jack paused briefly to make sure she was in fact through speaking, recognizing she was not interested in any small talk. Miss Compton, please hang on to my card because you never know, you may think of something later as you become more relaxed and begin to play the events in your mind over and over again. Having said that, I would like to thank you for your time.

Jack again extended his hand not wanting to press her too much for he felt she’d had quite the morning shock for one day.

If anything comes to mind that I may have left out I will call you right away, detective. May I get going now? She said, taking his hand.

Of course, you can. We’ve got your statement and contact information, so try and have a good rest of the day. She nodded with a small smile and got up and began walking away.

He and Lucy were walking toward his car when they heard Mattie calling out to them. Hey guys, I got an I.D. on this guy, Mattie walked up to them still panting. "I’m also now convinced he’s been murdered. Nothing official yet, but when I turned him over slightly just to see, that’s when I counted four knife wounds, and there may be more. I’ll call you later and let you know what more I find out.’

Okay, we do have a murder on our hands and a murderer on the loose. Who is it? Jack quietly asked, his head pounding. If he didn’t get a strong cup of coffee and a jelly filled donut soon, he thought his head was going to explode.

"One David Woodmont, age thirty-nine, resides at 5037 Sandy Shore, Siesta Key, Florida.’

Could it be David Woodmont of Woodmont Realty? asked Lucy.

I would say so, we found several wet business cards in his shirt pocket. Mattie said.

He owns like the biggest real estate firm in Sarasota, if not the whole county, with offices in Bradenton as well. Last I heard he recently opened a seventh office. There was an article in the Herald last week.

Do you know him, Lucy? Jack asked.

"Not personally, no. My grandmother bought a house over in Sarasota Springs last year and I remember he was the listing broker.’

Hmmm, Jack mused, "that’s a very competitive business, it’s possible this could be business related.’

It’s certainly possible, those are definitely knife wounds I saw, add to that the bruising and broken ribs on the front of the body, clearly a struggle took place. It being an accident is all but ruled out. Mattie looked at Jack and shrugged.

Good Mattie, let me know when you’ve completed your autopsy. We have a murder investigation on our hands, and a killer on the loose. And we can’t have that. Jack’s stomach growled.

Okay, call you later. With that she walked away toward her vehicle, following the ambulance which had the body of David Woodmont tucked inside.

"Call Captain Dudley for me, let him know we’re on the way to give the family the bad news. After that he can have his special press release which we know he enjoys so much.’

Will do. Lucy flipped open her cell phone and made the call.

Let’s head to Starbucks for that cup of coffee, then we’ll drive over to the victim’s home on Siesta Key. You drive. Despite his headache and nausea, his mind worked extremely well, considering. Thoughts, scenarios, and ideas of this new investigation were beginning to ricochet across the landscape of his throbbing and hurting head. Such as; Who would want to kill a real estate broker? That’s easy, everyone! There’s lenders and banks, mortgage companies, loan officers, appraisers, buyers of homes, sellers of homes. This could get interesting, he thought. In the game of murder, a lead can sometimes will itself into existence by sheer thinking, and then he who recognizes it must relentlessly follow that lead until it is dead, or the crime solved, whichever came first.

Lucy pulled away and drove the four blocks to the Starbuck’s on Second St, the heart of downtown Sarasota. She parked directly in front and ran inside while Jack reached into the back seat and found a legal pad, took a pen from his shirt pocket and immediately began writing notes.

CHAPTER THREE

Detectives Joe Wright and Stu Grimes spent their morning canvassing five separate condo buildings along south Gulfstream Avenue. In all, seventy-four doors received a knock and they spoke with over forty people, most of which were in their late seventies who wouldn’t have heard a cannon go off unless it was in the center of their living room. Most of the elevators were old and rickety, with some in the process of being updated so they wouldn’t be so rickety. The hanging canvass mover type blankets hanging on the walls of these elevators were not exactly comforting to the two detectives. It was a tedious task, yet on the surface looked easy. In short, they came up empty, unless of course you counted the little old lady in 502 whose name was Gladys, claiming she was paid a visit by her late husband who’d been dead for twenty years.

They decided to try their luck walking the downtown neighborhood and surrounding area. Ending up on Ringling Blvd, they walked a short block to south Palm Ave, not far from where Mary Compton lived. Everything seemed rather quiet, somewhat deserted at this time of day. Normal for this area of the city known as the art district. It was after all, summertime in Florida. The last of the snowbirds had gone home last month. They strolled passed Cariguillo’s famous Italian restaurant as they made their way toward Main Street.

Across the street were the art galleries, not opened yet, but the street was gradually coming to life. Traffic was light but beginning to pick up, there were people around, but all seemed to be minding their business. Nothing unusual was noticed but asking each of these people questions would have to be done. They each picked a side of Palm Ave and split up. Stu headed toward a man in a suit, and Joe toward the Latino kid sweeping the floor of Cariguillo’s.

CHAPTER FOUR

Meanwhile, Rusty and his partner Lois began their joy of canvassing by starting out at Marina Jack’s restaurant. It was still closed yet the covered walk-thru and out-doors style bar overlooking the marina and the intra-coastal beyond, were available for them to walk into. The restaurant, though empty, had a few employees setting tables and getting ready for the lunch rush. A bartender was cleaning wine glasses with a white bar towel making sure there was no lipstick residue remaining on them. He was heavyset, in his twenties wearing a floral Hawaiian shirt from Tommy Bahama. Rusty knew this, for he owned several himself. For a typical Monday morning the young man had a facial expression of someone wishing he was somewhere else.

Rusty led the way to the end of the restaurant toward the railing overlooking the bay and marina. With a potential murder having happened so relatively close by, he scouted the harbor and surrounding area looking for anything that seemed out of the ordinary or out of place. The well-known restaurant was indeed beautiful and serene a place as any, with its tropical waterfront and palm trees everywhere, truly one of Sarasota’s finest gems. A calm breeze coming in from the gulf eased the humidity but a trifle, yet here on the water’s edge, the humid air became less brutal.

Okay, you start with the waitresses and I’ll go talk to Happy the Bartender. Rusty bellowed.

Sounds good. Lois said.

Rusty picked a seat at the end of the bar and pulled out his badge. Good morning, may I ask you a few questions?

The man looked up and saw Rusty flashing his badge and became instantly alert and

attentive. "Sure, what can I help you with?’

"Unfortunately, there was a body found in the bay early this morning right over there just past Island Park, along Bayfront Dr. By any chance did you see or hear about anything that might be unusual?’

A body was found? Dead? The young bartender became genuinely concerned, shocked even.

Yup, Rusty studied the bartender for a split second, measuring him, sizing him, and instantly concluded he would not be the perp. "So… you haven’t heard or seen anything?’

"No sir, I sure haven’t. Wow! Was he killed by someone or did he drown?’

"We’re still working on that part and don’t know yet. Did you work last night?’

"Sure did, but nothing out of the ordinary happened that I can think of. I worked till closing, must’ve been around one in the morning.’

"Okay, I can accept that. You didn’t see any arguments or fights, or anything like that?’

"No, not at all. It was a pretty quiet crowd, typical Sunday night, you know.’

Uh-huh. May I have your name? Rusty was sure to make it clear it was a request, not a question.

Sure, Mike O’Connor.

"How long you been working here, Mike?’

"I’ve been working here for about eight months.’

"Good for you. Well listen, here’s my card, if you hear anything or see anything please call me right away. No matter how small it may seem to you, it may be big to us, okay?’

"Sure. Do you know who it was that got killed?’

I do, but I can’t say anything until the family has been notified. There will be a press release this afternoon most likely. Lastly, can I have your phone number and home address? Rusty had a pad and pen ready.

Of course. Mike gave him the information he requested. This is terrible news for such a location as ours. Every now and then you hear of a boat getting vandalized but never anything like this. He shrugged and put Rusty’s card in his shirt pocket.

Okay, kid. Remember to call me if you hear anything. Rusty extended his hand to the young bartender.

I sure will, Shaking Rusty’s hand, "I hope you catch the guy.’

Me too.

Rusty found Lois deeply engaged in a conversation with the waitress whose name was Bonnie. Bonnie managed to steer the conversation toward how slow business had gotten lately, what with all the snowbirds having left and all, and the customers remaining were chased off by the sight of all the homeless vagrants roaming the area looking for handouts. The result being that Bonnie didn’t know much of anything and that she hadn’t worked at the restaurant since last Thursday, stating that she didn’t work weekends. There were those times when canvassing could be such an incredible waste of time, Lois thought, yet it had to be done. Rusty loved to nag her relentlessly as he knew how much she detested it. Always reminding her how important it was in generating potential leads.

They interviewed another waitress, and then the restaurant manager showed up, and it netted the same result. Zip, nada, nothing. They decided next to head down to the waterfront of the marina where all the boats were neatly tucked into their little dock-o-miniums. Their eyes were open and on the lookout for any possible clues putting them on the right path. The marina was filled with the usual fray of people walking their dogs, jogging, biking, boaters preparing to shove off into the great blue gulf. There were of course the unfortunate elements of the homeless people who could be seen under the shade of trees or sleeping on benches, their plastic grocery bags of clothes or food and usually an old dirty bicycle giving the tell-tale signs of who they were. The dregs of society as most people would call them.

Rusty held a genuine soft spot for homeless people, while most others had at the very least a mild contempt. He never let it show much, at least not openly, but if they kept to themselves and didn’t break any laws or disturb the peace, he generally let them be. He felt as a society there should be a certain level of compassion for them, knowing that some of them had undoubtedly faced catastrophic events in their lives of which they had not the strength to rebound. There are mighty dark corners and places of the heart, where one’s mind and emotions wreaked havoc in men’s souls, and it was something he himself could easily relate. Many times, he thought, were it not for his daughters, his family, and friends, he may very well have become one of them.

CHAPTER FIVE

As they reached O’Leary’s bar and grill, it was almost ten in the morning. The place was open for business with only a few people inside, but the outdoor tiki-bar was full of locals having their morning coffee and Lois spotted a Bloody Mary. As if on cue, she immediately went up to the first patron she saw and began asking questions. Good morning, folks! She said to a young couple sitting by the window having coffee. Have either of you witnessed or heard anything happen early this morning that would be out of the ordinary? She sat down at the table with them, her badge in her hand.

The young girl, Lois guessed to be about twenty-three, spoke first, "We just got in from Chicago late last night. We woke up and came here for breakfast. It’s our favorite place.’

"Really! My boss is from Chicago. The north side. Are you Cubbies fans?’

We are, she answered, "so what happened?’

"A body was found early this morning and we’re trying to find out if anyone saw anything.’

Oh my, that’s terrible. The young girl answered, genuinely concerned.

Yes, it sure is. Lois quipped. "Here’s my card, if you two should see or hear anything let us know right away. I hope you enjoy your stay.’

Thanks, we sure will. The young man looked at his girlfriend, and then sipped his latte.

Lois walked over to another couple and they like the first two, were here visiting on vacation from the northeastern part of up north. They too, saw nothing, heard nothing, and were saddened by the news. She ended up standing next to Rusty who was speaking to a young kid in a white apron. He had long hair tied to a ponytail in the back and a face full of freckles. Lois thought he belonged on a surfboard at the jetties on Venice beach. She also mused at the fact that it seemed the