in Fiction, Blog, Serial Fiction 9:15 am Monday, October 29th, 2007

“Death On The Breeze”
A Danny Stark Mystery
by James Walling

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

On the day Bean was released from the hospital, Angie’s father dropped her at the hospital parking lot and kissed her goodbye. Her very action-packed spring break had come to an end and it was time for her to return to her studies on the far side of the state amidst the plains and wheat fields of eastern Washington.

An hour later, Danny, Angie and Bean shared a plate of French fries in a diner near the Amtrak station at the Oregon/Washington border along the banks of the Columbia River.

Bean was uncharacteristically mute.

Angie dabbed a cold fry into a puddle of ketchup sullenly and tried to muster some enthusiasm regarding her imminent return to dorm life and the subject of business administration.

“Why so glum, girl?” Danny wondered aloud. “You’d rather be stuck in Chelatchie Prairie for the rest of your damn life?”

Angie frowned in consternation and said, “I’ll worry about you two. Who gives a rats ass about entrepreneurship and managing human resources anyway?”

“So change your major,” Danny said.

“To what?”

“Criminology?”

“Very funny…what’s next, Danny? It feels like we’re at a dead end.”

Danny prevaricated.

“You just keep your head in the books,” he said.

Bean peered out through eyes circled in blue-green bruises and held his tongue.

By the time Angie’s train arrived, the trio was engulfed in a foul mood. Angie squeezed Bean tightly, took his cheeks in her hands and kissed him. He forgot the pain in his ribs and smiled warmly as she wrapped her arms around Danny’s neck and whispered into his ear.

“Please be careful,” she said.

Danny said nothing. He released her and listened to her fading steps as she hurried to her train.

Danny and Bean were silent until they’d passed through Battle Ground and were winding their way through the farmland and thickets of timber north of the city.

“I’m scared, Danny,” Bean said as they neared their destination.

“I know.”

After they parked and let themselves into the garage, Danny brought a tumbler filled with crushed ice from the kitchen and fished an unopened bottle of Talisker from his desk. He topped off the tumbler, handed it to Bean, and settled back in his chair.

“Special occasion?” Bean asked.

“Lubricating the memory…” Danny muttered.

Bean paced the room square, taking quick sips of scotch.

Danny let the silence deepen.

Finally, Bean pulled up a chair on the other side of Danny’s desk.

“Alright,” he said, “let’s have it.”

Danny’s mouth curled at the edges in the slightest hint of a smile.

“When you came to after they grabbed you,” he began, “what was the first thing you noticed?”

Bean gulped the scotch, coughed violently, and set the empty cup in front of him for a refill. Danny obliged him.

Bean took a long swallow and shuddered.

“I was in some kind of shed,” he said slowly. “The floor was wood, but it was covered with dirt and gravel.”

Danny remained silent, waiting for Bean to go on.

“My hands were bound behind my back and I was blindfolded. After a while, he came and dragged me out of the shed into a trailer or something.”

What’s makes you sure it was a trailer?”

Bean thought for a moment.

“Well,” he said, “the floor had a hollow sound. And the whole place shook when he hauled me up the steps.”

“How far from the shed to the trailer?”

“Maybe fifty yards. It was a grass lawn. It was wet, freshly mown, he dragged me along the ground like a rag doll.”

“Did you take my tape recorder with you?’” Danny asked, taking a different tack.

“I did. He took it.”

“Who was the last person you taped?”

“The cook at CJ’s.”

“Dick Mattingly?”

“Yep.”

“What happened after you talked to him?”

“Nothing. I ate lunch and got jumped on my way to the truck.”

Danny opened the Talisker and took a swallow from the bottle.

“What can you tell me about the woman?”

Bean sighed.

“Not much,” he said.

“Same woman left the message on your phone?”

“Can’t be sure. She sure didn’t want to be there though.”

“What makes you think so?”

“She kept begging to leave.”

“She ever mention his name?”

“If she had,” Bean said gravely, “I’d be dead.”

Danny was quiet, thinking hard.

“How long were you in the car when they brought you back?”

Bean let out a groan.

“Man…it’s hard to say,” he said. “Honestly, I thought they were taking me somewhere to fucking bury me.”

Danny pressed him.

“But if you had to guess?”

“Well,” Bean said, “had to be at least a half-hour.”

“Why did they bring you back?” Danny asked.

Bean didn’t answer.

“It’s important, Bean.”

Danny refilled Bean’s glass once again and took out a brand new tape recorder, placing it on the desktop.

“You only gotta tell it to me once,” he said. “But I need to hear it.”

Bean stirred his drink with his index finger and took a recuperative sip.

Danny turned on the recorder and asked the question.

“What happened to you inside that trailer, son?”