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- Herausgeber: Next Chapter
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
Carmella always knew she would find the love of her life in an exotic foreign country. But there's a deadly catch to it, in "Souvenir". Watching archaeologists unearth a mummified Iron Age corpse from a Danish bog gives a college professor an idea...how to commit the perfect murder, in "Bog Bodies."
In "I Have Other Plans" a young executive plans to eliminate his senior partner who refuses to issue him additional stock-but someone beats him to it. In "His Own Boss" Lieutenant Frank Russo of the Jersey City Police Department has an uncanny knack of solving homicide cases during the darkest days of Prohibition, when murder on the streets runs rampant. When he exposes the shady operations of the city's most notorious mob family, he ruffles some serious feathers.
But is he afraid of ending up at the bottom of the East River in cement swim fins? Nope. So what's his secret?
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022
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MURDER BY MOONLIGHT
A COLLECTION OF SHORT STORIES
DIANA RUBINO
Copyright (C) 2021 Diana Rubino
Layout design and Copyright (C) 2022 by Next Chapter
Published 2022 by Next Chapter
Edited by Brice Fallon
Cover art by CoverMint
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author’s permission.
CONTENTS
Souvenir
Bog Bodies
His Own Boss
“I Have Other Plans…”
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About the Author
SOUVENIR
A mortar shell hit the ground and exploded. A blinding flash lit up the night sky, illuminating five startled faces inside the old farmhouse.
The second shell scored a direct hit, rocking the house to its foundations. As debris scattered everywhere, the explosive force splintered the wooden table. Maps, documents, books, and computers flew across the room.
The men scrambled for their weapons—all except Hani Terif. He frantically searched the rubble for a vital item. “Let me find it, please!” he begged.
As he scrabbled in the shards of wood, paper, melted plastic, and metal, his trained ear distinguished each sound; even above their own spitting and coughing weapons. Mortars plopped in the distance. Shells screeched over the rasp of American-made automatic rifles. As fifty-caliber machine guns gargled with rifle fire, he froze. This meant one thing: Israeli commandos, too many to fight off. They must escape now or face certain death.
With their aging Russian weapons and limited ammunition, he and his fellow Deadly Underground brethren had no chance against their attackers. The best-trained soldiers on this side of the world, the Israeli commandos closed in fast. Their life spans possibly reduced to a handful of seconds, his men fought their way out. They crawled, dragging wounded legs. They limped, arms slung around comrades’ shoulders.
“Meet me at the Deadly Underground safe house outside Cairo in two weeks!” Hani ordered his men. “I will hold off the enemy for as long as possible.”
Rockets roared overhead in a dreadful barrage. His muscles tightened. Knowing he would never hear the shot that killed him, he trembled. The others charged out into the night, under cover of his prattling machine gun fire. Israeli bullets whispered around their feet. He continued to scan the room for the priceless Koran. Finally, his sharp eyes spotted it wedged under a corner of the rug. Grateful for keen eyesight, he leapt across the room to grasp the small leather-bound book.
He fled the building as an explosion blew it sky-high. Watching his fellow brothers-in-arms blown to shards of bone and spattered blood, Hani realized he was the only survivor.
The British Airways 747 headed for London with its payload of American tourists, British visitors eager to return home, fidgety first-time flyers, and a genial crew. The Lassiter Tours group sat in coach; six Americans of various ages and backgrounds, about to embark on their whirlwind tour of Egypt.
Settled in a window seat, Dr. Lawrence Everett, Professor of Heritage Studies at Plymouth State University read a thesis on his iPad. Next to him sat his wife Janice, silently mouthing a Hail Mary, rosary beads clutched between her fingers.
Professor Everett noticed his wife’s bowed head. “Honey, we’re not even off the ground yet.” Just in case, he reached for the plastic-lined bag in the pouch in front of her.
“Hey, we’re finally moving!” Jeff Sullivan, the passenger to Janice Everett’s right, nudged her. “We’re now on the way to our first fuel stop: London Heathrow,” he dictated into a digital recorder. “From there we’ll continue on to Cairo, Egypt. The origin of all genius known to mankind…”
Across the aisle, in the middle three seats, sat the Brooklyn-born Russo family: ample-paunched Dominic, his health-conscious wife Anna Maria, and their twenty-two-year-old daughter Carmella, reading Yoga Journal. This trip was a celebration of Carmella’s second chance at life.
The jet climbed into the clouds, about to blaze its vapor trail across the Atlantic.
The Lassiter Tours group arrived at the Cairo Hilton in time for a late dinner. After the hurried meal in the hotel’s restaurant, the tour director arrived.
“Good evening. I’m Yasar Massri. I’m an Egyptian archaeology student and will be your guide for the next two weeks.”
The travelers gathered in the hotel lobby as Yasar gave a brief history of Memphis, their first stop the following morning. “Please be here in the lobby at eight-thirty to meet our motor coach,” he finished his spiel of instructions. “Breakfast will be served at eight.”
As the crowd shuffled toward the elevators, Carmella approached Yasar, now entering the lounge. “You sound like a learned man of the world.” She rushed out her words, breathless with excitement. “I can’t wait to see Egypt.”
“I take it you’ve never been here before.” He moved towards her, closing the respectable distance.
“No, never. This is a very special trip for me. A real celebration. I’ve always been fascinated with Egyptian history and the mystery of the pyramids, how they’re built with such precision, lined up with stars. You sure have a history to be proud of.”
He beamed. “Well, thank you. We are proud of it.”
“Whenever I travel, I make sure to meet the locals. Especially the tour guides.” She paused for effect—and to take a breath. “Would you like to sit in the lounge and talk a while? I’ll even take notes.” She slid her iPad from her bag to show him.
“I’d be happy to.” He led her into the lounge where they took two seats at a cozy corner table. He ordered a beer and she ordered orange juice.
“Speaking of history, look at this.” He slid a small leather book from his pocket and held it out to her.
