The Fifth Script: The Lacey Lockington Series - Book One (26 page)
Read The Fifth Script: The Lacey Lockington Series - Book One Online
Authors: Ross H. Spencer
“What about this Cleveland character who was covering for Duke?”
“Jack Slifka. Slifka kept Duke informed, and he lied for him, but I think Jack’s okay. Slifka probably thought that he was helping Duke with some sort of innocent practical joke.”
Moose stretched and yawned. “Well, I gotta say one thing for old Max Jarvis—he took good care of his own. But how come Julie Masters didn’t get a crack at that Stella Starbright column?”
“She’d probably received a job offer from the
Sentinel
, but Julie was geared differently, her ambition was to write a novel. Julie was a dreamer—hardly practical enough to settle into the everyday grind of a newspaper column.”
They were in Chicago and the moon was high, its glow dulled by city night-smog. Moose Katzenbach said, “Uhh–h–h, Lacey, one more question, if it’s any of my business.”
“Shoot.”
“How was Erika Elwood in bed?”
Lockington thought it over. Then he said, “Like fifty million dollars.”
It was a typical Friday night at the Shamrock Pub when Lacey Lockington walked in at 11:45. He sagged onto a seat at the end of the bar, just in time to see Jennifer Hallahan fall head-first from her barstool. Mush O’Brien said, “The usual?”
Lockington nodded, watching Rip Rafferty knock Tom Conroy on his ass. Lockington said, “Full moon tonight.”
Mush O’Brien said, “Yeah, and all them werewolves ain’t out in the woods.”
There was a light touch on Lockington’s shoulder. Edna Garson stood beside him, studying him with smoky-blue eyes. She said, “Let’s go to bed.”
Lockington said, “But I just got here.”
Edna said, “So did I. Let’s go to bed anyway.”
Mike McBride threw a chair through the television screen. Lockington said, “You want a drink?”
Edna said, “No, I want to go to bed.”
Mamie Horton got sick on the floor. Mush O’Brien covered his eyes with his hands. He said, “Oh, Great and Flaming Omnipotent God Almighty!”
Edna Garson said, “Locky, have you ever seen a woman go up in flames?”
Lockington said, “Not to the best of my recollection.”
Rosie O’Toole was whacking Hank Desmond over the head with a beer bottle. Edna said, “Well, if we ain’t in bed by midnight,
you
are in for a brand-new experience!”
The bar phone was ringing and Mush O’Brien grabbed it, speaking briefly before handing it to Lockington. He said, “For you.”
Lockington took it and growled, “Yeah?”
Moose Katzenbach said, “Hey, Lacey, are you watching television at the Shamrock?”
Lockington said, “No, the television set’s out of order.”
Moose said, “Big fire downtown!”
Lockington glanced at his watch. It was 11:54. He said, “In just six minutes there may be one at the Shamrock.”
Moose said, “The Chicago Morning Sentinel Building’s burning and they can’t save it—she’s going to the ground!”
Lockington said, “I’ll be damned!”
Moose said, “WGN got a mobile unit on the scene and it just announced that a radical group is claiming responsibility—outfit identifying itself as ‘LAON’.”
Lockington didn’t say anything.
Moose said, “Lacey, you get that?”
Lockington still didn’t say anything.
Moose said, “Lacey? You there, Lacey?”
Lockington said, “Yeah, I’m here, Moose. How did the Cubs do?”
“They’re in the sixth at San Diego—losing 5–1.”
Lockington said, “Okay, Moose, have a nice weekend.” He returned the phone to Mush O’Brien.
Clancy O’Doul slugged Dave Flanagan, driving him through a plate glass window. Approaching police sirens wailed from the east. Daisy O’Dugan kicked Studs Cassidy in the groin. A vast fatigue was settling over Lacey Lockington. He took Edna Garson by the arm, peering at his watch. He said, “Can we make it to your place in five minutes?”
When Sister Rosetta’s niece goes missing, the nun (whose favorite poison is anything bottle-bound and boozy) hires shifty P.I. Tut Willow to find dear Gladys. But as Tut pulls back the curtain on Gladys’ checkered past, he also finds that someone doesn’t want her found, and soon bodies begin to pile up. Is Sister Rosetta, lured by a twisted sense of family loyalty, behind the deaths of those out to harm her niece, or are Tut and Gladys just pawns in a much darker game?
Full of laugh-out-loud comedy and the darkest of intrigue, the author of DEATH WORE GLOVES draws together femme fatales, a not-so-saintly nun, and a gumshoe willing to do anything to help an old flame.
When the CIA chooses Birch Kirby, a mediocre detective with a personal life even less thrilling than his professional one, no one is more surprised by the selection than Birch himself. But the Agency needs someone for a secret mission, and Birch may be just the clown for the job. Going undercover as a circus performer, he travels to Grizzly Gulch to investigate the source of daily, un-decodeable secret messages that are being transmitted to the KGB. Birch interacts with wildly colorful characters while stumbling through performances as well as his assignment. With the clock ticking, Birch must hurry to take a right step toward bringing the curtain down on this very important case.
Former cop, now private investigator, Lacey Lockington gets lured into a case of something less smooth than his usual tipple: the death of his old drinking buddy and ex-CIA agent Rufe Devereaux. No sooner does he start his investigation than he finds himself chased by the Mafia, hunted by the CIA, stalked by a politician-turned-evangelist out to kill him and “helped” by the sultry Natasha, a KGB agent who always knows more than she lets on. Sucked into the dangerous world of international espionage, Lacey knows he is in way over his head. What started as a search for the truth behind his friend’s death turns into a whirlwind tour that leads Lacey from the gritty bars of Chicago to Miami’s cocaine-filled underbelly and culminates in an explosive ending that must be read to be believed!
The Cold War heats up when trouble comes knocking on the door of ex-cop turned Private Eye Lacey Lockington. Lacey is hot on the trail of Alexi Fedorovich after the high-ranking general publishes a controversial exposé detailing that Glasnost/Perestroika is a hoax. Federovich goes into hiding in the last place he suspects someone will look for him—somewhere in Youngstown, Ohio.
For someone who’s pretty much seen and done it all, Lacey’s unnerved when he starts dealing with Russian spies, Federal Agents, a man who doesn’t want to be found, and an increasing body count of all his leads. Will Lacey, along with former KGB agent and live-in lover Natasha, get to the bottom of it all before Fedorovich finds himself on the wrong end of a firing squad?
Chance Purdue may be better at a lot of things than he is at detecting, but he’s the only man for the job when the FBI comes looking for someone to take on the Soviet-inspired DADA conspiracy.
Plus, he needs a paycheck. Chance gets off to a rough start as he’s led a merry chase through Chicago’s underbelly and drawn into a case of deception that can only be solved with the help of a mysterious femme fatale who’s as beautiful as she is cunning.
Try as he may, Chance Purdue can’t seem to escape the world of private investigation. The now tavern owner returns to action to protect Princess Sonia of Kaleski, who claims to be the wife of an old Army buddy. Convinced he’ll get to the bottom of things at his Army battalion’s reunion, Chance indulges in the entertainment while leaving the more serious detective work to his new colleague, the scintillating Brandy Alexander. For Chance, the case provides more fun than intrigue, and yet its solution is a surprise for everyone involved.
A quick and easy buck sounds good to Private Investigator Chance Purdue. But the paycheck seems to be a bit harder to earn when the job entails more than just looking into the a minor league baseball team in southern Illinois. His new client, the gangster Cool Lips Chericola, is definitely leaving out details. Enter Brandy Alexander, whose unexpected appearance in Stranger City, Illinois complicates things. Then throw in the Bobby Crackers’ Blitzkrieg for Christ religious crusade, and you’ve got a super-charged powderkeg of a caper, with Chance holding both the match and the barrel.
What happens when Chicago detective Chance Purdue is hired to protect a gambler with a target on his head? For starters, all hell breaks loose…
“Bet-a-Bunch” Dugan is being hunted by International DADA (Destroy America, Destroy America) conspirators, a terrorist organization out for control of the world’s oil market. Dugan needs more than a little luck to walk away unscathed. He needs a Chance, and though he knows that half of Purdue’s reputation is that of a guy you are aching to punch, the other half is that he’s a dogged, if occasionally doomed, investigator.
No matter where Purdue’s leads take him, though, he always seems to be one step behind DADA. As a hapless Chance watches DADA’s deadly scheme move forward, a siren named Brandy Alexander enters the picture and things finally fall into place, or so Chance hopes...
Private Investigator Chance Purdue and Brandy Alexander work in tandem on a case that finds them traveling to the Illinois town of Radish River. The CIA continues to need help putting a stop to the DADA (Destroy America, Destroy America) Conspiracy, a terrorist organization whose latest plot is completely under wraps, except that it promises immense destruction. Things prove difficult for Chance and Brandy as they do what they can to remain focused on the task at hand. But it’s hard when distractions from football-playing gorillas, chariot races, copious booze—and especially each other—weave in and out of their lives and keep this case on the back burner.
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