Chapter One of Fishing for Murder

He’s over here,” a voice shouted. “You two go up there and make sure he doesn’t make it up to the road.”

Wild Mike stayed still, He forced himself to calm his breathing as he listened to the rustling of the leaves and branches as the men moved through the brush. He was able to tell from the noise the men were to his left. They wanted to cut him off from the road, which suited him. He moved to his right, down closer to the water, still staying inside the tree line to avoid being spotted. He moved quietly, just as they had taught him years ago. Take a step, stop, listen, then move on. They repeatedly stress that during the training. Your goal is to be silent and deadly. The sounds of the men chasing him were growing fainter, meaning they were moving away from him. Still, he had to remain calm, not run, not give away his position. Up ahead he saw a boat house. If he could make it there, maybe he could find a boat, hopefully a kayak, which would allow him to silently move through the water and escape.

It took him almost fifteen minutes to cover the distance to the boathouse. He slowly opened the door, making as little noise as possible. He slipped inside and closed the door. His eyes were adjusted to the dark. He didn’t want to turn on any light and ruin his night vision as he searched for his escape vessel. Suddenly the lights went on. Wild Mike turned to exit, but there was a person with a pistol standing between him and the door.

“Don’t,” the figure commanded. “Don’t do it. Don’t make me shoot you.”

∞∞∞∞∞∞

Homer Rucker thought of himself as a good old country boy. He came complete with a beer belly and an attitude. His partner was Jefferson “Jeff” Davis, a 22-year-old rookie with less than six months on the job.

“I can’t believe your mama named you after the President of the Confederacy,” Rucker said as he pulled their police vehicle up to the boat house. “What was she thinking?”

“Probably crackers like you would appreciate a black man named after him,” Davis answered.

“Now, now.” Rucker responded. “I ain’t got anything against you or any other black guy. After all, one of you became President of the United States. That’s quite an accomplishment.”

Davis reminded himself he had to put up with Rucker for another three months until the end of his probation as the two exited their patrol car and walked up to the boat house.

“Heard you caught him,” Rucker said with a grin.

“She didn’t catch me,” Wild Mike stated. “I surrendered.”

Detective Kimberly Simmons was leaning against the boat house wall with Wild Mike sitting at her feet, his hands were hand cuffed behind his back. Kimberly sighed. Just her luck dispatch would send this patrol unit to transport the prisoner.

“He’s telling the truth,” Kimberly said, leaving out the part of her having her nine-millimeter weapon on him. “Listen carefully. Just because he’s handcuffed, don’t think he can’t hurt you. Remember, he spent six years as a Marine Corps sniper. Give him cause or the opportunity, he’ll take you both out in a heartbeat.”

“Don’t you worry,” Rucker replied. “We know we’re dealing with a murderer. . .”

“I didn’t kill him,” Wild Mike shouted. “He was dead when I found him.’

“Yeah, sure,” Rucker said grinning. “Then why was your hat and binoculars with the body. I bet when we search your belongings, we’ll find the victim’s other belongings, like his wallet and cell phone. Face it. You’re toast.”

“Enough,” Kimberly interjected. “Take him back to the station and process him. Don’t have anyone talk to him until I get there. I’m going to meet up with Tindall at the crime scene, but I should be back at the station within the hour. Understand.”

“Yes ma’am,” Davis answered.

“Don’t call me ma’am. I’m a detective. You can address me as detective, but not ma’am. I’m not an old lady.”

Davis nodded he understood as he and Rucker helped Wild Mike to his feet and took him to their patrol vehicle.

∞∞∞∞∞∞

Detective Steve Tindall was setting up the standing lights illuminating the crime scene. The coroner was already there, declaring the victim dead and that the body could be removed whenever the detectives were ready.

“What have you got?” Kimberly inquired as she approached her 39-year-old partner.

“I have a backache from carrying those damn lights,” Tindall groaned as he leaned his five-foot, ten-inch slender frame back. “It’s the middle of the night.”

Kimberly looked at her watch. “It’s only eleven thirty; but I guess it is past your bedtime.”

“Hey, I should be home watching the news on TV and drinking a beer.”

Kimberly chuckled. “You have two teenagers at home. They probably drank all your beer, blamed it on your wife, and hid the remote so that you have watch MTV.”

“Paula doesn’t drink beer, my kids are too young to drink, and they have their own TVs.”

“How can you afford that on a cop’s salary?”

“Because like all good Americans, I have hundreds of dollars of credit card debt,” Tindall answered. “How about you?”

“That’s the advantage of being single. I have only two credit cards and am able to pay them off every month. Back to my original question, what can you tell me about our victim?”

“He’s dead.”

“That’s what makes you such a wonderful detective,” Kimberly stated. “Your powers of observation are amazing. It couldn’t be that the body hasn’t moved since we’ve discovered more than an hour ago or the coroner has pronounced him dead, could it?”

“Yeah, yeah. What I’m saying is we have a dead body, no identification, the body was dragged out of the water, and the coroner can’t give us a time of death until he does the autopsy, but it looks like he was beaten before he went into the water. Whether he drowned or not will have to wait until after the autopsy.”

“What about the injuries and bruises on his body?”

“Don’t know. Fairly sure they happened shortly before he died, but whether they are the cause of death, we won’t know until after the autopsy.”

Kimberly knelt down to get a closer look at the body. “Do you think Wild Mike did this?”

“Again, don’t know,” Tindall answered. “He’s capable, especially since he’s an ex-Marine. And he has been brought in for assault before. But he’s never done anything like this. But then, he’s never been quite right since getting back from Iraq. They really did a number on him over there. And he was found with the body. Also, we found these binoculars next to the body. Mike’s name is on them.”

“Get a warrant to go through his things,” Kimberly stated.

“He’s homeless.”

“Yeah, I know. But he has some kind of camp set up about a mile from here. That’s where he hangs out and most of his belongings are. And I want to do this by the book. I would hate to lose the case because of a technicality.”

“Good point,” Tindall replied. “The last thing we would want is for a killer to go free because we got lazy.”