Dead Lawyer on Aisle 11 by John Ellsworth

Author:John Ellsworth [Ellsworth, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Thriller
Amazon: B074Q22N3V
Goodreads: 36036672
Publisher: Subjudica House Press
Published: 2017-10-19T05:00:00+00:00

24

We took my boat out on the Potomac the next day at noon, Marcel, Arnie, and me. It was time to discuss the case. My latest toy was a Sea Ray 45 Sundancer, a new boat that still smelled new and that had never been in salt water—although you could hear the locals argue saltwater versus freshwater all night. I had my Sundancer dressed to the nines: Joystick Propulsion, full teak cockpit, twin Raymarine GPS's with radar and sonar, and Sat TV—huge overkill but fun stuff. Cummins twin Zeus diesel engines put out 918 HP—enough to lose the Coast Guard if that particular chase scene ever tickled your fancy. (So far it hadn't mine.) I took meticulous care of that boat, cleaning and checking and testing. Plus there were all the fun electronics upgrades. That boat could've navigated to Alpha Centauri and back.

We ran south for twenty minutes and found deeper water. Five miles south, I dropped anchor while Marcel prepared a spread of the smoked oysters and crackers with a small pot of french mustard. We would graduate to char-broiled ribeye—but that was later. No alcohol was ever onboard my boat—aptly named CONDITIONS OF RELEASE. Drinking and boating don't ever mix—not in my book. Too much can go wrong too fast. So we stuck to coffee made fresh in the cabin and served by Arnie.

Arnie and Marcel went way back. Marcel had helped me at one time with getting control over Arnie several years ago. That would have been the last time Arnie went off his meds and stayed off. Until this time.

We were lounging on the fantail after hors d'oeuvres thinking our thoughts when Marcel casually asked for me to present the Linda Burrows case. He sealed the deal by passing out three Cuban cigars that went for about $60 apiece: the Arturo Fuente Opus. I wasn't a smoker, but expensive cigars were Marcel's weakness, so who could turn him down?

After we were happily blowing rank smoke across the breezy river, I started by telling them the facts of Linda Burrows' death. I described aisle 11 of the grocery store--not a common place for murder. I explained how she was gunned down with no defensive wounds—meaning her murderer caught her unaware, billfold and purse still with her, no cries for help or screams of terror—nothing. The first cashier saw a police officer come into the store and leave. She heard the shots ring out after he came in and before he left. Then I explained Linda's predilection for romance with Niles Boudreaux and a "couple of others."

Arnie's eyes narrowed and his feelers went up. "Does that by any chance include you, Michael?" he asked.

"One time. I was weak."

"You always were," said Marcel with a snort. "You haven't changed."

"I thought you were off the market, with Verona around and all," Arnie remarked. I cringed. That was too damn recent. I became determined not to respond in any way. I hated big brother just then.

"So, you slept with her. Did her ex-husband know?"

"Not at first.

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