Hunsicker - Still river: a lee henry oswald mystery
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- Year:2011;2010
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Still river: a lee henry oswald mystery: summary, description and annotation
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Its not easy being named Oswald, not in the city where Lee Harvey grabbed his fifteen minutes of infamy and choked it to death. Its especially hard when half the town seems determined to kill you for reasons as murky as the river that splits the city in two. For Lee Henry Oswald, a private investigator, Gulf War vet, and terminal loner, its just one more burden to face as he trudges through the gritty underbelly of the concrete and glass metropolis that is Dallas in the new millennium. A simple assignment turns deadly when Oswald asks the right questions in the wrong places, and finds himself drawn into a shadowy world of smooth-talking drug lords and double-dealing real estate developers. In the end, he learns that blood is not always thicker than water, especially the muddy tributaries of the Trinity River, where he confronts the deadly results of his own decisions as he races to save the life of his partner. Reminiscent of the tightly wrapped works of Dennis Lehane and Michael Connelly, Still River is a startling debut mystery.
Hunsicker: author's other books
Who wrote Still river: a lee henry oswald mystery? Find out the surname, the name of the author of the book and a list of all author's works by series.
Hunsicker
Hunsicker
J. Oswald Sanders
Oswald Mosley
Kennedy John Fitzgerald
Kennedy John Fitzgerald
Hunsicker
Oswald Chambers
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Table of Contents
For my lovely wife, Alison, and
my parents, Harry and Foree Hunsicker,
thanks for all your help and encouragement.
my parents, Harry and Foree Hunsicker,
thanks for all your help and encouragement.
The book would not have been possible without the help and advice I received from Erika Barr, Jan Blankenship, Amy Bourret, Victoria Calder, Will Clarke, Kevin Crank, Alan Duff, Jeff Epstein, Ginna Getto, Dan Hale, Susan Huber, Fanchon Knott, David Norman, Brooke Malouf, Barry Philips, Christine Phillips, and Randy Spence. A special note of appreciation goes to Suzanne Frank for her early encouragement as well as her guidance throughout the entire process. Very special thanks to Richard Abate and Sean Desmond for their wisdom, professionalism and unwavering support.
V era Drinkwater had been a slut in high school, or so they said. According to Artie Galbreath, shed traded a blowjob for tickets to REO Speedwagon in the back of his Goodtimes van, the kind with the shag carpet on the walls. Artie was the class dealer and liked to sample his own inventory, so you had to take that into account. I had no firsthand knowledge of her morals as I only knew her from the two or three classes we had senior year. As I recalled, she looked the part back then.
She didnt appear very slutty now, sitting in my office crying. She looked pathetic, sleazy, and frumpy at the same time in a too-tight running suit with mascara drizzling down her face. Her hair was stringy and fried blond one too many times.
Hank, youve got to help me. She blew her nose into a crumpled paper napkin. I dont know where else to turn.
Vera, why dont you take a moment and get yourself together. Then start at the beginning. I pushed a box of tissues across the desk.
She grabbed a handful and blew her nose again. Its my little brother. Hes missing. He was supposed to come to my birthday party, two days ago, and he never showed up. Its not something he would do; its not like him at all. She coughed and shifted her weight. Her chair squeaked on the worn hardwood floor. My office was the back bedroomof a converted 1920s Tudor house, on Reiger Street, in old East Dallas. For that era, it was a large room, with plaster walls, crown molding, and built-in bookcases. Everything about the place squeaked or groaned.
Whats your brothers name?
She rubbed her nose with another wad of tissues. Charlie. I mean Charles. Charles Wesson.
I remember him. An image came to mind: little Charlie Wesson, all arms and legs, gawky with thick glasses and an overstuffed backpack, two grades below me. The stoners who hung out behind the gym used to pound the hell out of him until I intervened that one time. That stopped them for a while. The downside was that I couldnt get rid of Charlie, always tripping over himself to be in my general vicinity.
Hes my half brother; my mom remarried a couple of years after her and my dad split. Vera tugged at a lock of blonde hair, wrapping it around her thumb. My stepfathers name was Ketch Wesson. Hes Charlies father.
She seemed to say the name of her mothers second husband with a vengeance, as if she wanted to expel the words before they lingered on her lips too long.
I take it you didnt like Ketch too much.
She grimaced and made a hucking sound that ended with the clearing of her throat. Ketch was an asshole. Ex-marine, big run-a-tight-ship kinda guy. Lots of chores. And rules. Still, he kept a roof over me and Moms head when no one else would.
I remembered Ketch now. Ketch had been one of those involved parents, especially when it came to athletics. Hed been at all the practices and games for his son and stepdaughter, wearing those god-awful polyester shorts, and a sweatshirt with the sleeves torn off, yelling at the coaches and refs. He looked like an ex-marine, all muscles and sinew, covered by hard, leathery skin. Charlie took after Veras mother. Bookish. Bet it was fun growing up with Drill Sergeant Ketch as a dad.
When was the last time anybody saw your brother?
Monday afternoon. He was at work and then coming to my birthday party. He left at about four and no ones seen him since.
It was now Tuesday morning. Hed been missing for a little less than twenty-four hours. Too early for the police to be notified but not too soon for a big sister to become worried. Where did Charlie work?
Callahan Real Estate Company. She pulled a piece of paper from her purse and slid it across the desk. I wrote down the address and the name of Charlies boss. Also, where Charlie lives. Thats about it, I guess.
Shed come prepared, sure Id say yes. After all, I was a private investigator, licensed by the good people at the state capitol who handled that sort of thing. Why wouldnt I take the case? Maybe because I tried to have a rule that I wouldnt do business with a friend, however remote. Maybe because I felt like there was something Vera wasnt telling me. I didnt take the paper. Instead, I leaned back in my chair, put my hands behind my head, and didnt say anything.
Vera watched me and then fumbled with her purse. I understand that most investigators work on a retainer. How much would you like? She pulled out a wad of cash.
I ignored it and said, Is Charlie married?
No. Divorced now for two years.
Children?
No.
Girlfriend?
No, not really. He dated a couple of people, here and there. Nothing serious.
Did he gamble?
No. He wouldnt even play the office football pool.
Booze?
No. Louder and more forcefully than the rest.
Drugs?
No. Much quieter. Too quiet.
Bingo. I leaned forward. Charlie in some kind of recovery program, twelve-stepping it, maybe?
Vera didnt say anything. Instead she dug a rumpled pack of Capris from her purse and lit one. I reached into the middle drawer of my desk and pulled out an ashtray. It was made out of the bottom of a fifty-millimeter mortar shell. I slung it on the desk and waited.
Vera smoked and then started to cry again. She put out the cigarette and honked into a tissue. Her nose was red now, mottled to the color of a moldy tomato. Hes been straight almost eighteen months. Hed worked so hard at being clean.
Booze or drugs? There was a stack of Styrofoam cups on my credenza and a half bottle of mineral water. The minerals in the water came from the rusty faucet in the bathroom, but I didnt mention that. I poured a cupful and put it in front of her.
She slurped it down and said, Both. Mostly drugs, though.
Whats the longest hes been sober?
She sniffled. Before this, itd only been a month or two at a stretch. It was for real this time, though, I know it. It was after his second stint at rehab. Her tone implied that rehab twice was an automatic guarantee of sobriety. She leaned into my desk and the edge caught the zipper of her running suit top, pulling it down a couple of inches. A year and a half, Hank. Hed been clean and sober for a year and a half.
To avoid looking at the top of her breasts I shuffled some papers on my desk. Vera, heres the deal. Statistically speaking, Charlies fallen off the wagon. Hes on a bender somewhere and will surface eventually. You ever given him money before?
She nodded.
Then hell probably come to you again for a handout. Does he go to anybody else when hes in trouble? Your mother? His father, a college buddy? Anybody?
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