Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Epilogue
Chris Patchell: Deadly Lies
Deadly Lies
Blurb
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
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
Kerry J Donovan: The DCI Jones Casebook: Ellis Flynn
The DCI Jones Casebook: Ellis Flynn
Blurb
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Part II
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
Part III
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
Quinn Glasneck: If You See Kay Run
If You See Kay Run
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Tina Glasneck: Angels Cry
Angels Cry
Blurb
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
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
Epilogue
Judith Lucci: The Imposter
By Judith Lucci
Author’s Rating:
Language: * Sexuality: * Violence: **
For your convenience each book in this collection has been rated by the author for language, sexuality and violence, so that you as a reader can make an informed choice.
Our collection includes books that span the intensity range.
Language Intensity:
* - No or mild profanity, if any
** - Stronger profanity, with up to 5 uses of the f-word
*** - Strong language
Sexuality Intensity:
* - Sexual reference or no sexuality
** - Sexual reference which might include some details.
*** - Intense, descriptive sexual scenes
Violence Intensity
* - Violence, but no gory details.
** - Mild violence, fairly detailed with some blood
*** - Detailed violence
The Imposter © 2013 by Judith Lucci
Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. 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.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Bluestone Valley Publishing
Harrisonburg, Virginia
Blurb
In New Orleans, The Criminally Insane Pose A Growing Threat
It is hotter than hell in New Orleans and newly promoted Police Commander Jack Francoise is battling horrific crime in the Vieux Carre. The number of criminally insane continues to rise without explanation and nurses at the Psychiatric Pavilion are doling out Thorazine cocktails to these viciously psychotic patients to the best of their ability.
When Murder Strikes, The New Orleans Heat Isn’t the Only Unsettling Presence
Alexandra Destephano, legal counsel for the hospital is troubled by safety issues and is working hard to protect patients and staff. The violence escalates, and brutal beatings and murder become the order of the day as life in the Big Easy becomes Uneasy.
1
"Holy Crap, Mary, Mother of God! What the hell is wrong with people? Are they crazy, stupid, or just nuts," hollered Jack Françoise to no one in particular, even though he was sure his rants could be heard through the bullpen of the 8th Police District. "Honest to God, two tourists with their throats torn out in the deepest, darkest part of the
Quarter. What is wrong with these idiots? I don't even go in that part of the French Quarter. No one needs to go down there; no one in their right mind wants to go down there, not even NOPD's swat team in full combat gear. Holy Shit, can anybody be that stupid or that drunk?! I just don't get it."
Newly-minted New Orleans Police Commander, Jack Françoise, sat behind his massive, but deeply scarred, walnut desk at 334 Royal Street glaring at two crime reports placed in his in-basket for review. A big, burly man who tended towards overweight, Jack looked distinguished in his commander uniform and his polished medals matched the glint of silver in his hair. A man's man, Jack commanded the respect of almost everyone he met. He stared out of his tall office windows, already heating up in the August sun, but saw nothing. His attention returned to the crime sheets, and as he reached for his coffee cup, his administrative assistant and PR guy knocked at his doorframe.
"What's up, Jason? Did I wake everybody up yelling?"
Jason Aldridge grinned at his boss. "Well, maybe a few left over from the night beat, but they were due to go home anyway," Jason joked.
Jack shook his head. "Did you check out these murders in the Quarter last night? What the hell?”
“Yeah, pretty bad. Young people, too, from what I heard. Kind of similar to that woman they found in that abandoned warehouse near Canal over in the First District several years ago. By the way, the coroner’s office just called and they want you over there ASAP. It's about this new case, the one they are investigating in the Quarter now."
"Yeah, I just bet it is," Jack muttered sarcastically. "Who's working the scene in the Quarter? Think I'll go over there on my way to see the M.E."
"I think Bridges caught the case, but he's probably gone now. Don't know who the head of the forensic team is. I can check for you.”
"Never mind, I don't care. If the M.E. calls back tell her I'm coming, but am stopping by the scene first."
"Will do, Capt'n! Whoops, Commander." Jason stumbled over his boss’s title and smiled apologetically.
"Just call me Jack. Skip the title. I don't act like a commander anyway. Didn't even want to be one. I was and am happy in the trenches and on the street. But, as you know," Jack said wryly, “I never planned to leave them."
Jason nodded. "Yeah, I know that. I'm sure you'll always be a beat cop, no matter the title. You've never left the streets before, and you're too damned old and stubborn to start at this late date," Jason acknowledged, waving his boss out of the office. His heart swelled with pride, watching the big guy leave the 8th district office.
Jason loved being Jack's right hand man, a job he had just formally assumed several months ago when Jack had risen in the ranks. Jason had more respect for Jack Françoise than he'd ever had for any one man. Françoise could come across as a total police asshole, but deep inside, he was kind and generous and a true advocate for the citizens, particularly the victims of murder and violent crimes in New Orleans. Jack was also tenacious, bull-headed, and hard to work with, but Jason was used to this as well. Sometimes, Jack's dark moods surfaced when he reached a dead end in the crimes he sought to solve. In Jason's mind, Jack was a hero and always would be even though Jack would never claim fame or recognition for the cases he solved.
Jason smiled while considering that magical way Jack disappeared from press conferences and the media. He was sure Jack planned to keep it that way, even as a commander. He was as humble as he was caring and altruistic and Jack flat out hated the press. Jason smiled to himself as he reflected on his years with Jack Françoise. An honorable man, Jason thought, closing the commander’s door quietly as he left the office.
2
Jack hated the blast of August heat that momentarily blinded him while exiting the 8th District office. He jumped into his vintage, police-retrofitted silver Cadillac parked in a no parking zone on the side of the building, and headed down towards the Canal crime scene on Burgundy. He parked, illegally of course, at the corner of Toulouse, knowing that all NOPD in the area knew his car and would never ticket him. He trudged down towards the scene, wiping the sweat off his brow with a white linen handkerchief.
Jack, as hardened as he was to street scenes, turned his head away from a man with a needle in his arm and a guy lighting up his crack pipe while sitting in a doorway. He was convinced that neither man had seen the inside of a house or had a meal or shower in days. He quickly glanced inside a vacant, burned-out building on Canal noting several other vagrants boldly smoking crack, not caring who or what could see them. The bottom of the barrel, the dregs of humanity, hung out in this part of the Vieux Carre. The commander hurried his pace towards the crime scene. He could see the yellow tape several blocks away and thought what a bitch it would be to climb back up the hill in this August heat. He hailed the CSI team’s chief processing the scene.
"Yo, Vern, what's your ornery ass doing up so early in the morning?" Jack asked, slapping the forensic chief on the back. "I thought you were working nights!"
Detective Vernon Bridges stood up, turned, and faced Jack smiling broadly. "Why, Commander, what in the world are you doing down here in this hell hole so early? With your big promotion and all, I never expected you'd leave your air-conditioned office on Royal Street," Vern joshed, pumping the commander’s hand.
Jack returned the grin, happy to see his old friend. "Vern, you know me better than that. I get the hell out of there every chance I get so I don't have to write reports and go to meetings. I hate all of those damned meetings." Jack shook his head and sighed. "These bureaucrats are crazy. They even meet to decide where to place the water fountains." Jack rolled his eyes and Vern laughed heartily.
"Well, then, who writes the reports and goes to the meetings? Isn't that why you got the big pay raise?" Vern teased his old buddy.
"Jason goes. He likes meetings and, as my assistant, it’s his job to make me happy. So, he goes to the meetings and writes the reports, and that makes me happy. Besides, he's glad to get me out of there so he can do his own thing. So, what do we have here?" Françoise questioned, gesturing towards the crime scene.
Vern pointed to the two chalk-etched bodies on the ground and groaned, "The meat wagon took the bodies away an hour or so ago. Two kids, probably late teens or early twenties. Most likely tourists. They were pretty tatted up, lots of body piercings. Looked Goth, if you ask me, but then what the hell do I know? Black clothes, black hair, black nail polish and lipstick on the female vic, lots of metal."
Françoise shook his head. "Geez, not again. The report said their throats were torn out, sort of like an animal had attacked them. Anything else?"
Vern searched out his digital camera and flipped to a couple of shots. "They also had their wrists slit."
"Not much blood around here," Jack said. “Has anyone hosed down the streets? Had city maintenance been through here before they were found?"
"No, I don't think so, although they often come through before dawn. We waved off one truck when we got here a little after 5."
"Who called it in?" Jack asked.
"Anonymous. Someone dialed 911," Vern said, shrugging his shoulders. "Figures, doesn't it? Probably the sick SOB that did it. I got a funny feeling that he’s sitting somewhere close, watching us work the scene. Been thinking that all morning," Vern ended, looking around the area at the rundown buildings and dark alleys.
"Could be. It's happened before. Any possibility they could have been killed somewhere else and dropped here? Any witnesses?"