Tag: writing

Here’s just a taste of what’s coming.  I’m currently working on Book 6 “Beneath The Bridge of Murder”.

A serial killer is knocking off the homeless and dumping them in the East River.  Detectives O’Roarke and Garcia can hardly keep up with the crime scenes popping up all over Manhattan.

Excerpt:

©  “Where we headed?” O’Roarke asked as they pulled out of the CJB parking lot.
“Dispatch just texted me. We’re to meet Marine Patrol at the docks just south of Liberty. They fished it out north of the Staten Island ferry docks. Get on the FDR. I know that area, we don’t have to use your friend, the GPS.” Stella laughed.
“Thank God for small mercies.” O’Roarke grumbled.
Once on the FDR Parkway the wind, off the East River, drove snowflakes against the city issued sedan. It was going to be a cold, miserable day on the river. Twenty minutes later O’Roarke pulled in between two warehouses with docks sticking out into the river like frozen fingers. A patrol car with flashing blue lights and the Medical Examiner’s van were already parked near the water. The two murder cops could see the upper structure of the NYPD Marine Patrol boat.
As they walked from their car they saw a cluster of people around a body bag on the ground.
“Hey, Ruby, wha’cha got for us?” O’Roarke addressed the ME.
“A floater, been in the water about twenty-four to forty-eight hours by the look of him.”
Two sad blue eyes were all that was visible of the ME’s face. She was bundled in scarves, hat and long woolen coat. Her blue latex gloves were a sharp colorful contrast to the browns and blues of her outerwear.
“Patrol found him floating out in the middle. The captain of one of the ferries called it in. Said he almost ran the deceased over.”
The ME, Ruby Crutchner, had successfully worked countless cases with the two detectives. Under the mild grandmother type persona was the brain of a brilliant forensic scientist and pathologist.
“No identification and judging by his clothing I would guess that he’s one of our homeless. Age about fifty to sixty. I’ll know more about age and such when I get him in my house.”
“Ma’am, if you’re done with us, we’ll get back on the water, if that’s okay.” The harbor patrol officer asked.
“Yes, certainly. Jack?” Ruby replied.
“Yeah, just send me over your report when you get a chance. Here’s my card.”
Taking the card the young officer blushed. “Yes, sir, I know who you are. I’ll get it over to you tonight when we return to port.”
Hating that kind of hero worship, Jack turned back to the dead body. He squatted down beside Stella and, not touching anything, looked it over. “Anything?”
“I would agree with Ruby. Given the layers of clothing and the condition of them, I’d say he was homeless, or in the best of scenarios, living at one of the shelters.”
Jack and Stella stood up. “Well, Ruby, let us know if you find anything interesting.”
“It’s a homicide, Jack. Even though there’s no blood evidence, given the length of time in the river, see this hole under the coat?” She squatted again and gently lifted the coat away from the chest. “Definitely a small caliber bullet hole. There may be more. I’ll get my report over to you.”
While snow swirled around them, Ruby stood and stripped off the examination gloves. Turning them inside out, she captured one glove inside the other, making a neat little package. She reached into her coat pockets and hurriedly donned fuzzy winter gloves.
“Well, let’s all get out of the cold. Talk to you later, Ruby.” Jack turned and headed for the warmth of their car.
Having left her assistants in the warm van, Ruby waved at them that it was time to load the DB.

* * * *

Climbing into their sedan, Garcia cranked up the heater.
“Ya gotta wait till the engine is warmed up, Stel’.” Jack reminded her as cold air blasted them both in the face.
“Damn it! I’m freezing!”
The radio crackled and they heard a call come in about a floater in the Hudson River and dispatch was asking for available detectives to respond.
Exchanging a surprised look with her partner, Stella reached for the microphone. Before she could speak two other detectives from their squad answered with an affirmative that they were on their way.
“Coincidence?” Stella asked, eyebrows disappearing into her hair.
“Don’t believe in ‘em.” Jack growled.
“Let’s stop for hot coffee…no scalding.” She replied as she fiddled with the heater knobs on the dashboard. Cool air then warm air came out of the vents. “Ah…finally.”
The radio’s static voice blurted out that there was another body found in the Hudson, mid-town and requesting the murder cops to proceed there at once.
“Holy shit! What the hell is going on?” Jack growled.   ©
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