One Deadly Sister sr-1 Read online

  One Deadly Sister

  ( Sandy Reid - 1 )

  Rod Hoisington

  An almost-too-clever young law student reluctantly attempts to rescue her estranged brother who is caught up in woman-trouble and a murder charge down in a hostile Florida town. He isn't looking for trouble but doesn't have a clue about women and gets seduced and framed by a 70-year-old in a thong, leaving the sister in an ever-increasing entanglement of deceit, double-cross and danger.

  What others are saying about

  One Deadly Sister

  “...an excellent plot which keeps readers glued to the pages until the very end. A great read!”

  --Goodread.com

  "...a clever plot enfolds, firmly supported by interesting characters. If you like mysteries, you'll enjoy this one. No loose ends."

  --Scripps Treasure Coast Newspapers

  "...a murder mystery at its best...a great and realistic story line that will keep you guessing till the end."

  --Michele Tater, ReviewTheBook.com

  "If you enjoy mysteries that keep your mind guessing and racing until the very end, you don't want to miss this story."

  --Feathered Quill Book Reviews

  One Deadly Sister

  by

  Rod Hoisington

  Copyright 2010 Rod Hoisington

  Chapter 1

  When Ray Reid phoned his sister in Philadelphia and told her he was in a Florida jail on a murder charge, she told him to go to hell.

  She slammed down her cell, shoved the book off her lap, and got out of bed. Nervy bastard. He can’t really be doing this. Why didn’t he make his one phone call to a friend or a lawyer for Christ’s sake?

  Sleepless now, she clicked on the eleven o’clock news: something about an assassination in Florida, some politician. She heard her brother’s name.

  She picked up the phone then tossed it back down—she didn’t need this. He had ignored her distress call years ago, and they had lived on different planets ever since. She stared at the phone. It rang startling her. “I told you to go to hell.”

  “You didn’t tell me anything. Are you in some kind of trouble, Sandy?”

  “Joanna, is that you?”

  “Yeah, worked late as usual, just got home. I wanted to warn you, some media types phoned for you at the office. You’ve had calls from Fox, some producer at WCAU-TV, and—get this—I talked to Gretchen Henson at CNN, in person. They wanted your home address and cell. Luckily, I was the only one in the office. They got nothing from me. What’d you do, kill someone?”

  “Maybe my brother did. He got himself tossed in a Florida jail. How’d they trace me so fast?”

  “I thought you told me your brother is dead.”

  “He was, now he’s trying to resurrect himself. He wants me to go down there and help him. He mentioned some problem with a woman.”

  “You going?”

  “And screw up my great job up here? Not likely.”

  “Well, good luck with the media. You’d better figure on extra mirror-time in the morning. If they’re not at your door with the cameras at dawn, they soon will be. Let me know if I can help.” And Joanna said goodnight.

  Back in bed, Sandy turned off the bedside light, and jerked the covers over her. Damn him upsetting her like this, she thought. Should go down there just to watch him suffer. It was no use; she was too irritated to sleep.

  She turned on the light, found her phone, and scrolled down to his call. He answered on the first ring. She snapped, “You managed to get yourself on the national news and now the media are after me. Thank you very much.”

  “Sandy! You called back, great to hear your voice.”

  “You’re guessing it’s me, you forgot what my voice sounds like. Did you happen to give out any info about me down there?”

  “No, well—maybe, the detective asked if I had any family. I said just a sister in Philadelphia.”

  “Damn it, why did you give them my name?”

  “I didn’t see any harm. I tried to show I was a straight guy with nothing to hide.”

  “My employer was called already. Raymond, I work for a classy law firm with a spotless reputation. I could lose my job if the media disrupts the office.” She understood it wasn’t his fault if some jerk cop down there leaked her name to the media. She cooled off just a bit. “How come you rate a phone in jail, anyway?”

  “The police took mine for evidence to examine the directory to see who I’ve called and who’s phoned me. They gave me this disposable loaner.”

  “It’s tapped Raymond, the old loaner-cellphone trick. Watch what you say.”

  “They think I’m calling my mob mouthpiece in Philly right now. Anyway I’m innocent.”

  “Innocence is beside the point. Suspicion is your problem.” She tried to sound unconcerned. “Isn’t this where you’re supposed to ask how I’ve been the last few years?”

  “Oh yes, how are you Sandy?”

  “You see, I get this call from some guy who says he’s my brother. I heard my brother moved to Florida, but it can’t be him because he never calls me. As much as I’d enjoy his being in trouble, there’s no way he’d be so ballsy as to phone me. You’ve got the wrong number, buddy.”

  “Sorry. I’m not very good at keeping in touch.”

  “Are you going to pretend you actually do call me now and then?”

  “Didn’t I phone at Christmas?”

  “Yeah, two years ago, you wanted someone’s address. The TV says you murdered a senator. So, you work there as a hit man?”

  “No, I landed a good job down here with a stockbroker doing what I did in Philadelphia. The dead guy was a state senator running for governor. I had absolutely nothing to do with it. You see I met this woman at a party, and we went back to my place—okay, so maybe I have a tiny bit to do with it. But I wasn’t the one who shot him. Can I tell you about her? I didn’t know her age then.”

  “No thanks.”

  “I’ve barely moved in down here and don’t know anyone.”

  “A lot of folks would look forward to spending the last few days of their life in Florida. Where are you located?”

  “Park Beach, a small town on the east coast. Someone killed their favorite son and I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The town wants my blood. There’s a big commotion outside right now from all the TV people. The police are crowded around the windows here at the police station gawking out. They’re heroes for getting a dangerous character like me off the street so quickly. The state attorney doesn’t bother to say alleged, just refers to me as the perpetrator. They’ll probably skip the formality of a trial. I need someone to find out what’s going on, someone to rescue me.”

  “That’s what attorneys are for.”

  “In this little town my attorney will turn out to be the prosecutor’s brother. A jury here will enjoy hanging me.”

  “I promise they won’t hang you, Raymond, they use lethal injection in Florida. Now if I lose my job because of your mess, I’ll come down and strangle you myself. They’re probably outside my apartment right now setting up a satellite TV truck. I can’t wait for my boss to see me on the morning news.”

  “You ever get your law degree?”

  “See what I mean. You’ve no idea of my situation. They could have your little sister kidnapped in Baghdad for all you know. I still work for Walde & Walde, the criminal defense law firm. Ran out of money for my law degree. Paying off student loans. Work outside the office. I’m the paper-trail girl, all crime cases including murder. I do the legwork. I run around the tri-state area, search through public records, find witnesses, and take their statements. I find out the things the prosecution doesn’t want found out. Love it.”

  “That’s precisely
what I need.”

  “The firm’s going to reimburse me for tuition, so I can get back into law school. When I pass the bar, a lawyer position is waiting for me. Is that dreamy or what?”

  “Yes it is. Now, that first night with the woman from the party was no problem, but then she wanted to meet me again at a motel. Somehow, I just ignored the entire age thing. When she showed up in that tiny thong, I should have known something was going on. But I was too eager.”

  “Excuse me, you were asking about me. You didn’t hear a word I said.”

  “I heard you, sounds great. The second time we were at a motel. But it’s not what you think. I don’t mean it was the second time at the motel. I mean, the second time we got together was the first time at the motel. Then I talked to the murdered guy. Before he was murdered, of course. The police didn’t understand at all.”

  “Imagine that.”

  “I’ve got a big problem Sandy.”

  “If you’ve no friends to call when you’re in trouble, you have an even bigger problem. Everyone needs someone they can phone at 4 a.m.”

  “You’re right—this call isn’t going too well is it?”

  “Raymond, where were you when I was in trouble?”

  “Good grief that was ten years ago, more. Can’t you get passed that?”

  “Yes, I should get over it but I haven’t. I’ll work on it. You sit there in jail, and I’ll work on it.”

  Silence.

  Was she gone? “Sandy, you still there?”

  “Are you convicted yet?”

  “I was afraid you’d hung up.”

  “The longest conversation with my brother in my entire life, and I should hang up?” Her voice had softened somewhat. “Other than being arrested and facing execution, how do you like Florida?”

  “Dad and I loved your humor,” he said. “We’d fall off our chairs and mom never got it. I should phone you just to get a laugh.”

  “You’re talking about earlier, before you finked me out to the cops for supposedly doing drugs.”

  “I didn’t report you, mom did. She called some teen hotline. That started it.”

  “Geez Louise, you ratted me out to mom and I landed in juvy rehab!”

  “Wasn’t like that. I was leaving for college and my little sister was doing her best to ruin her life. I was worried about you. I thought if mom was aware of what was going on, the family could talk about it. But she imagined you acting out scenes from Reefer Madness and she wigged out, called Juvenile Hall or someplace.”

  “Okay, so I was kind of bent, did a little grass, maybe some pills. Nothing heavy. I tried some junk because it was new. Something to do.”

  “You couldn’t wait to be eighteen. I was afraid you’d never make it. You stole from mom’s purse, tried to be a mall chick, boosted junk, smoke, and drank. Even stole a car and wrecked it.”

  “I didn’t steal that car, but I did wreck it—not on purpose. Butchie Cooper couldn’t make out with me so his smooth-talking old daddy thought he’d give it a try. He thought I’d be thrilled and express my gratitude if he let me drive his brand new shiny silver Buick. So, I drove his brand new shiny silver Buick. The crash part was somewhat thrilling. He lost interest in me fast. Anyway, I was just a kid. Old lechers must look out for themselves.”

  “You tried to win acceptance from some trashy older girls or whoever your model was.”

  “You were my model. I was dying to be like my big brother. You were so cool, so self-assured, and so independent. I couldn’t wait to grow up so I could be just like you.”

  “I was in a fog half the time. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

  “You dated all the cool ones.”

  “No, I didn’t. I had one girlfriend my entire junior and senior year, and she dumped me at the prom—actually, she dumped me on the way to the prom. She got out at a stoplight and into another guy’s car.”

  “I didn’t know that. I thought you were so totally with it.

  “I guess I’m not the person you imagined.”

  “Raymond, why didn’t you come visit me in that so-called juvy rehab center in West Chester they sent me to? They were releasing kids three months early if somebody bothered to show up and claim them. Mom couldn’t deal with any of it. Try counting every hour for three months. Three extra fucking months, Raymond! Three more months doing shit work and trying to keep creepy counselors off me, because you couldn’t be bothered to stop by and sign me out. I showed your picture to everyone there: this is my big brother, he’s really great, he’s going to come and get me out of here just as soon as he can.”

  “I never dreamed it was that way.”

  “Buddy you don’t know. Someone should investigate that place. Some psychology grad student set it up with a grant. It was a sham. No rehab going on there. I did ATP just once. That’s what the girls called, ‘Assume the Position.’ This one counselor took a special interest in me because I was the new stuff. That’s how they talked, ‘Did you get some of that new stuff?’ On my first turn, I stood up and kicked him hard. He couldn’t move fast enough with his pants down around his hairy ankles. I missed but I never had to touch him. After that, whenever he looked at me that way I’d chomp my teeth together. He left me alone, but made it tough. That’s what your little sister was doing while you skipped down yellow brick road.”

  “A nightmare, you’re really hurting.”

  “Every now and then when I’m out on my job, waiting in some law office or something, I’ll use my laptop to keep track of the bastard’s whereabouts. He moved to Delaware, but I know exactly where he lives, even driven past his house. I know his wife’s name, kid’s names, and know where he works. If I ever get my law degree, I’m going after him—payback time. I’ve made that vow to myself for the other girls. It’s there in the back of my mind. Sort of like on my permanent to-do list: start cooking, learn French, and nail that counselor.”

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. I knew you were in that rehab place and I made no effort to visit you. I was in college and facing a bunch of junk in my own life I believed was heavy. I’ve thought about you in that place over the years, but it was too late. Perhaps that’s why I’ve been avoiding you, trying to block it out, hoping I’d never have to deal with it. We’ve talked since, over the years, you never mentioned any of this.”

  “Geez, you talked about the weather and asked how my car was running. Every time we spoke, all you could think of to say was how’s my damn car. You probably don’t remember the color of my hair, but you know about my cars. Do I wear glasses?”

  “What?”

  “Do I wear glasses, yes or no?”

  “Glasses? Yes, ah no, I don’t think so.”

  “I rest my case. You’d walk right past me on the street. Somehow, I have it my mind that there are things you should just know about your sister. That’s a stretch for you isn’t it.”

  “I’m sorry Sandy, but there are years between us. It’s not like we were joined at the hip.”

  “But I thought we were at least friends. Don’t you get it? We were born friends. You just don’t want to connect with me.”

  “When I get this behind me, I’m going to make it up to you. Can you forgive me?”

  “Forgive you? How about I just forget you?”

  Ray said nothing.

  “I know you’re in a deep hole down there, and I don’t mean to minimize it.” The irony of him now being the one in trouble didn’t escape her, but maybe she was being too harsh. Nevertheless, it was unfair of him to ask. “I can’t leave, Raymond. I’ve worked hard for this job and I’m not going to screw it up.”

  “You’re right, don’t screw up your job. Somehow I thought….”

  Then sounding upbeat, she said quickly, “Hey Raymond, hope things turn out all right for you down there. Bye now, I’m gone.”

  “Wait! I know I’ve been a lousy brother and don’t deserve your help, but there’s no one else.”

  “I’ll phone at Christmas,” she said. The line wen
t dead.

  Ray sat on his bunk and tossed the silent phone from hand to hand. He was tempted to smash it against the wall. What was wrong with him, he wondered, how dare he ask her for anything? So she’s out of it. Couldn’t blame her.

  Was there someone else he could call, someone he hadn’t screwed up with his indifference? Certainly, no one down here, probably no one up in Philadelphia either. Sounded pathetic when he thought about it. He didn’t think of himself as friendless. He was well liked by his co-workers and wasn’t unsociable. It was just that he enjoyed his solitude, and didn’t spend much time thinking about friends. Friends just appeared in his life from time to time. They happened, he didn’t seek them out.

  He stared at the other bunk in the cell. The bulk of an old man in rumpled clothes was lying there dead drunk on his back snoring, with his head hard against the wall. “Looks like we both could use a friend. I don’t know anyone else in your goddamn town,” Ray said aloud surprising himself. The man didn’t stir.

  The jail cell felt airless and hot but Ray started shivering. He looked down again at the worthless phone. He was drowning. The phone in his hand was like a lifeline with no one holding the other end.

  Chapter 2

  Ray Reid had moved down to Florida from Philadelphia to start a new job in Park Beach, a small ocean side town, three weeks earlier. Moved to get away from the scene of his divorce, start new. His ex-wife had once told him she was attracted to him because he had a great job and a nice house. When they split, she accused him of being one of those nice guys who would never make a success of anything.

  Nothing much to move down with him. She took everything, even kept his dog. He did manage to rescue some of his history books and string quartet CDs from the curbside trash in front of the house he had paid for.

  His new employer, a Florida securities broker, E.J. Bradford & Co., needed a back-office manager and that was Ray’s specialty: running all the numbers and seeing that the firm handled the buys and sells properly.