Fatal Stance
Book 1 in the Jade Pearson Mystery Series 1
When Private investigator Jade Pearson gets a call from her friend at the Camden PD that an unidentified dead body has been washed to the shore, she knows it is going to be a long day. There’s no identification on the body and her first job is to figure out who this person is.
The man dressed in a fancy business suit looks more like a businessman than a tourist who mostly visits the area. But, who would want to kill an out-of-town businessman?
Will Jade be able to get to the bottom of this case and identify the killer? It is not her first rodeo, but someone has been making anonymous calls threatening her to get off the case and almost drove into her tiny car.
Fatal Stance
Book 1 in the Jade Pearson Mystery Series 1
Fatal Stance
EXCERPT
Prologue
It had been a humid day and was still a humid night. Mr. Yates was due on the boat in a few minutes. Walking down the dirty docks was not what he really wanted to be doing, but he had a job to do. It was an unsettling night. The lamp posts were dim and barely lit. The dock creaked beneath his every step. And everything smelled of fish. He hated fish. Couldn’t stomach it.
Passing along closed fishing and tackle shops, he reminded himself of his comfy home: his sleek leather chairs and his woman who would be happy to see him again. He was reminded of air conditioning and fans to battle against the heat of the day. Sweat was gathering on his brow.
He hated to sweat. He hated anything connected to the lower class including manual labor, hard work, and most of all, sweating. In fact, he hated this part of his job, but he liked the money it brought and the leisure it afforded him.
Mr. Yates walked past the last of the small, smelly shops and continued down the dock out on the open water of the bay. He didn’t like walking on the dock, with the water swaying beneath him. It made him dizzy despite the calming sound of the waves. His stomach swirled inside him. Clutching his stomach for a second, he regained his composure and tried to ignore the water. He enjoyed his small burbling waterfall in his home but hated being by the sea. He hated being on the boat even more, but it couldn’t be helped. His job relied on it.
The boat was ahead of him, lit up brightly against the darkness of the night. It was like a shining beacon calling out to Mr. Yates to hurry up and get on board. The crewman welcomed Mr. Yates aboard for his night trip into the bay. Mr. Yates climbed the metal stairs up to the highest deck, a small platform at the front of the ship. Tonight, he only had himself and his phone. He stood by the edge of the railing listening to the rolling waves and the sleepy gulls.
Before long, Mr. Yates pulled out his phone. Aiming the camera out into the darkness, he snapped a few pictures. Then, he made a hurried phone call to a stranger he trusted. He didn’t notice the shadow creeping along the side of the deckhouse. Or the creaking of footsteps coming closer. He did note the heavy breathing right before he was hit on the head and dropped to the floor of the deck.
The shadowy figure picked up the body with relative ease and threw it overboard. Then they stole away into the night. Mr. Yates could barely keep his eyes open. He felt the cold water seep into his bones. With a haggard breath, he drew in seawater. It scorched his throat and he coughed violently. Still barely above the surface of the water, he tumbled and fought to breathe. But the waves were ruthless. They swept him under and didn’t let go. Mr. Yates saw nothing but the darkness of his closed eyelids. He felt nothing but the pain of trying to draw in air. After a few minutes, Mr. Yates floated back up to the surface, face down in the water. That was the end of Mr. H. Robert Yates.
END OF EXCERPT