Lee Hanson - Castle Cay

On a foggy morning in January, the pale body of a young woman is discovered adrift in an errant swan boat on Lake Eola in the middle of a jewel-like park in Downtown Orlando. The cause of her death is a single, deep slash on her right wrist, and the knife - with her clear left handprint - is found beside her. There is no sign of anyone else having been at the scene and her car is parked by the lake. After a fruitless inquiry, the police conclude that successful and beautiful Dianna Wieland, 28, took her own life. Body language expert, Julie O'Hara - who was out running in Eola Park that morning - isn't buying it. She volunteers to help Joe Garrett, a private investigator hired by the family. And that makes Dianna's killer very nervous, indeed... Since Julie O'Hara is the one person most likely to figure it out.

by

Lee Hanson

Smashwords Edition

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Published on Smashwords by:

Lee Hanson

Castle Cay

Copyright 2010 by Lee Hanson

ISBN-13: 978-0-578-06322-5

All rights reserved. Without limiting therights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publicationmay be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system,or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic,mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without theprior written permission of both the copyright owner and the abovepublisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of theauthor's imagination or are used fictitiously. The authoracknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of variousproducts referenced in this work of fiction, which have been usedwithout permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is notauthorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademarkowners.

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* * * * *

For Janice Jerome,
my invaluable Reader-in-Chief

* * * * *

He was naked and slick with sweat,despite the coolness of the room. Moonlight sliced through thepartially open verticals, casting a striped pattern of light acrosshis body. The ceiling fan made a low, hypnotic sound and wasspinning so fast its blades were invisible. The weighted bottoms ofthe vertical cloth slats moved silently in the breeze. Within reachon the nightstand, a plethora of prescription drugs stood ready toaid sleep or relieve pain. Surprisingly, the needle slipped rightinto the vein on the first try.

If theres a hell, Im going there

* * * * *

Unlike most Floridians, Julie didntwant to live by the sea. Her condo overlooked Lake Eola Park inDowntown Orlando, fifty miles inland and twenty miles northeast ofDisney. It was an older building with only four floors, but Juliehad the whole top-right corner with a clear view of the urban lakeacross the street, which was interesting and prettyand smallenough not to give her bad dreams.

It was just after eight in the morning andthe French doors to the balcony in both her bedroom and her livingroom were flung wide to let in the balmy September air. Julie wasin her tee shirt and shorts, lying in the sun on her chaise. Shehad closed her eyes and knit her hands together on her chest. Herlegs were too long for the chair and her narrow, bare feet hungover the cushion.

She had towel-dried her shoulder-length hair,planning to let the sun finish the job while she read the Sundaypaper, but shed become so comfortable that she had let the bulkyedition slide to the floor. She was lulled. Breathing deeply, shesavored the rain-washed air that brushed her skin like a satin slipand rustled gently - swish, swish - through the ancientoaks. A Mockingbird sang one soft trill after another.

Julie was pleasantly drifting off when theunmistakable sound of smashing pottery snapped her back. Her eyespopped open.

Shit, Sol! What did you do now?

Quickly rising, she scooped up the newspaper,dropped it on the outdoor table and hurried inside. Her livingroom/library was arranged more for work than leisure, with a largecherry and glass desk sitting in front of a wall of books. Her bigBengal cat lay there, peering over the edge. He had knocked over anoversized coffee mug, which had shattered on the dark hardwoodfloor and dumped Julies cache of odd pens and pencils.

Sol was a year old when Julie adopted himdirectly from his overwhelmed owner. A genetic throwback, theexotic-looking spotted cat was twice the size of a typical housecatand couldnt be let outdoors. Now, for her trouble, he wasgleefully crouched on her desk like a leopard cub that had justwhacked a rabbit.

Damn it, Sol. How come Im not the alpha cathere? How come that only works with dogs?

Sol sat up to his full height on the desk,dwarfing the computer monitor. He cocked his head, curious at herreaction, as if she were a littermate with very odd priorities.

She was picking up the mess and scolding himwhen the phone rang. So much for the Sunday paper

She decided that she wasnt going to answerit, but out of curiosity, she checked the caller ID. To hersurprise, the call was from Boston, but she didnt recognize thenumber.

Hello?

Julie? ItsPete. Pete Soldano.

Pete! My God! Its been years! Are youcoming down to Orlando?

No, Im not, Julie, but you might wanna comeup here. I guess you didnt see the paper yet?

My paper? The newspaper?

Julie, its about Marc Solomon. Hes dead. Adrug overdose. Its in the paper up here, I dont know if its inyours.

That cant be right! I just saw Marc andDavid, not more than a month ago!

Im sorry, Julie. Im afraid its true.Look, why dont you go see if the storys in your paper, then callme back. The funerals gonna be up here. If you wanna come up, youcan stay with Joan and me. We can go together.

Julie was stunned; it took her a full minuteto reply. Okay, Pete. Uh, okay. Ill call you back.

Shaking, she scribbled the number on a pad,and ran out on the balcony. She stood at the table, flippingfrantically through the paper. If any birds were singing, she wasno longer aware of it.

KEY WEST ARTIST DIES

The art world lost a rising star on September18th, with the death of Marcus Solomon. The artists body wasdiscovered early Saturday morning by his companion, DavidHarris.

Key West Chief of Police Jeffrey Sanders wascautious in responding to reporters questions about thepossibility of a drug overdose. Its too early to speculate aboutMr. Solomons death. We cannot confirm intentional or accidentaldeath. Well leave that determination to the medical examiner.

Mr. Solomon was 38 years old

There was more, mostly biography.

Julie exhaled a cry, grabbed her stomach andfell into the nearest chair as if shed just taken a punch to thegut.

We were celebrating We danced at the SunsetParty! Yes, he had AIDSbut he was doing well