Skip Case - Softcover

Derouin, R. E.

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1587363054 ISBN 13: 9781587363054

Publisher: Wheatmark Inc, 2004

Synopsis

A "prequel" to the later David Dean mysteries... When Jeffrey Byrne disappears on a business trip, police detective David Dean is assigned to the investigation. All the facts of the case point to an accidental drowning. Byrne left his lovely wife Cynthia, a sports star son and a comfortable, if boring, life. A few million dollars is missing, but that occurred miles away and is a different matter entirely. The case is officially closed, but as Dean's feelings for the missing man's wife grow, so does a nagging suspicion-is there more to the midnight disappearance? When it becomes apparent that someone is on the run, Dean must go outside his police duties,and the choices he faces will change his life forever.

About this title

About the Author

R. E. Derouin is the author of four previous David Dean mysteries and a number of award-winning plays. He currently resides in the Rocky Mountain town of Ouray, Colorado, the setting for a number of his books.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Tuesday, May 4, 1999 1:00 a.m.

The man took a deep breath of the hot and salty night air and firmly closed the door marked Room 22. After turning the knob once to confirm it was locked, he paused, somewhat unsteadily, and glanced across the motel parking lot. He looked at his wrist, but then remembered the watch was on the dresser in the motel room. In his right hand he clutched the motel key. A large bath towel was draped across his shoulder. He wore bathing trunks, a Phillies baseball cap and a t-shirt with the imprint "Eastern PA Century Bicycle Tour" and a date four years earlier. The man was about 40. His hair was a tad past barbering time and he wore polished black shoes and black socks, inconsistent with the rest of his attire.

The motel was an independent, adequate at best, barely holding its own against the national chains. It served an occasional thrifty traveler but mostly catered to salesmen, many on a repeat basis. They were given reasonable service and whispered offers to, "Stay three nights, the next one's free, and we'll give you a receipt for four."

The motel consisted of 40 units on two floors, ten to either side of a main entrance that led to the office and restaurant. A red neon sign blinked "Ocean Shore Motel," painting the parking lot and the bathing-suited man in a pulsating crimson glow. A scattering of cars dotted the parking lot but due to the late hour the avenue beyond was nearly devoid of traffic.

As the man turned from his room, a young man emerged from the main entrance several yards away and stepped outside. He was dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt and moved with the swagger of youth, someone without a care in the world. The man in the bathing suit recognized him as Leo, his waiter from an earlier dinner, and waved.

Leo shook his head and smiled. "Going for a midnight swim, mister?" he called.

The man paused, leaning against a post, and confirmed in a somewhat slurred voice that indeed he was about to take a dip. He added it was too damned hot for this early in May.

"Aw, this is cool weather for Norfolk," Leo replied. "Come back in July if you want to really sweat."

The man muttered a "No, thanks," released his support and continued on his way to the beach across the road.

"You be careful now," Leo called after him, "it's pitch black over there on the beach." The man just waved over his shoulder. Leo thought to himself that with one more drink he'd try to swim across the Chesapeake. He considered warning the Indian night clerk that they had a real winner wandering out on the sand in the middle of the night but discarded the idea. There were better things to do with his time. Francie was waiting and there was cold beer in the fridge. He hurried to his rusty Ford and by the time he pulled out on Ocean View Avenue, the man was out of sight and out of mind.

On the far side of the roadway, the man walked the short distance to the pathway that led to the beach. Once past the scrub brush and small trees, the near-total darkness surprised him, causing him to pause until his eyes became accustomed to this darkened world. When he could finally focus through the black of the night, he plodded forward, feet wallowing in the soft sand like a boat in a heavy sea.

The man stopped, thinking he'd heard some movement behind him, but after listening a few minutes could discern no human sound and was satisfied he was alone. Aside from the infrequent sound of a passing car on the avenue, only the murmur of unseen waves lapping at the sand broke the stillness. He moved forward until the sound of the sea and the firmness of the sand suggested he was close to the water's edge. He retraced his steps a few paces to assure he was on the soft dry sand above the high-tide line, carefully placed his towel down, sat on it and removed his shoes and socks. He slipped the motel key in the left shoe and then rolled each sock, pushing it into its corresponding shoe.

By the time the man had finished, his night vision was better and he could make out the tiny necklace of lights in the distance, the Chesapeake Bridge-Tunnel that ran 17 miles to the Eastern shore. A breeze picked up at the shoreline, wrinkling the water as the waves slowly rolled toward him in silver lines. He considered once more the folly of his undertaking, but pushed away his second thoughts. He stood, removed first his hat, then his t-shirt. The t-shirt was carefully placed front-side up on the towel. He secured it with a shoe on either side. He slapped the hat back on his head, took a deep breath and began to slowly walk toward the water.

About this edition

• Publisher: Wheatmark Inc
• Publication date: 2004
• ISBN 10: 1587363054
• ISBN 13: 9781587363054
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 292