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One More Way to Die
One More Way to Die
One More Way to Die
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One More Way to Die

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A new series from the creator of the bestselling Marlow mysteries: Retired Navel Intelligence officer Mitch Cooper had decided to stay in San Diego after leaving the Navy. Cooper was making his living as a security consultant and private eye, and in San Diego he was never at a loss for work. When an old navy buddy shows up on his doorstep looking for help, and gets murdered when he leaves, Cooper finds himself drawn into a nightmare web of international intrigue and stolen military secrets. Cooper discovers that even trying to stay alive could just be one more way to die!

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMar 5, 2016
ISBN9781311219299
One More Way to Die
Author

Bill Craig

Bill Craig taught himself to read at age four and began writing his own stories at age six. He published his first novel at age 40 and says it only took him 34 years to become an overnight success! He has been publishing steadily ever since that first book Valley of Death and now has 27 books in print or ebook. Bill is the proud father of four children ranging in age from 38 to almost 8. He has 7 grandchildren and 1 great grandchild. Mr. Craig has worked a wide variety of jobs over the years from private security and corrections work to being a grill cook and dishwasher. He has been a news reporter, done factory work and even a stint as a railroad clerk. He currently does customer service work to support his writing addiction. His ultimate goal in life is to break the record held by pulp author and creator of The Shadow, Walter B. Gibson, for writing the most works in a single year!

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    Book preview

    One More Way to Die - Bill Craig

    One More
    Way to Die

    A Mitch Cooper Mystery

    BILL CRAIG

    ABSOLUTELY AMAZING eBOOKS

    Published by Whiz Bang LLC, 926 Truman Avenue, Key West, Florida 33040, USA.

    One More Way to Die copyright © 2015 by Bill Craig. Electronic compilation/ paperback edition copyright © 2015 by Whiz Bang LLC.

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized ebook editions.

    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. While the author has made every effort to provide accurate information at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for errors, or for changes that occur after publication. Further, the publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their contents. How the ebook displays on a given reader is beyond the publisher’s control.

    For information contact:

    Publisher@AbsolutelyAmazingEbooks.com

    Table of Contents

    Chapter 1

    Chapter 2

    Chapter 3

    Chapter 4

    Chapter 5

    Chapter 6

    Chapter 7

    Chapter 8

    Chapter 9

    Chapter 10

    Chapter 11

    Chapter 12

    Chapter 13

    Chapter 14

    Chapter 15

    Chapter 16

    Chapter 17

    Chapter 18

    Chapter 19

    Chapter 20

    Next in the Series

    About the Author

    To Kara Qualls for providing inspiration, to Linda Pendleton for letting me bounce ideas off of her over the years, and to my son Jack with love for being a good kid!

    Chapter One

    He stood at the edge of the water, looking out over the Pacific Ocean, watching the waves rolling into San Diego Harbor. He was tall and lean with a swimmer’s build, wide shoulders and narrow hips. His blond hair was starting to gray at the temples. An artfully trimmed stubble of beard covered his cheeks and chin. He was north of forty by a year or two. His eyes a deep blue, his skin tanned from the sun. A diver’s watch was on his left wrist. He wore a white polo shirt, faded blue jeans and a pair of white starter running shoes.

    His name was Mitchell Gary Cooper. His father, a fan of old westerns, had insisted on the middle name. He blinked back tears as he thought of his father. He had died just the year before. But that wasn’t why he was here this time. The ocean gave him solace, made the bad things seem to slide away with the waves as they retreated from the sandy beach.

    No, today he was here because he had just said goodbye to a friend. Eddie James had been hit by a car just moments after leaving his office this morning. According to the cops, it was a simple hit and run. Nobody had really seen the car, other than to say it was dark and moving way too fast for the neighborhood. So the cops had written it off.

    But not Mitch Cooper. No, he knew a whole lot more than the cops did. Maybe he would share what he knew after he found out more. But not now. Not yet.

    Cooper turned and walked back up the beach to where his truck was parked. It was an older model Chevy Sierra, white, no camper shell. Cooper unlocked it. The white truck was anonymous; it would fit in any neighborhood in the city. He found that helpful being an investigator. It worked well on stake outs.

    Blending into his environment was something he had learned being a Navy spy. Cooper started up the truck, put it in gear and drove off. He was hungry and headed for the Beach Break Café, just off the South Coast Highway.

    ~ ~ ~

    Today had started out like any other morning. The sun was shining and there was a pressure cell a couple of miles off shore producing some fog, but the early morning sun was making short work of it. He had awakened early and started coffee before lacing up his running shoes and hitting the beach for a run. Running on the wet sand was something he had gotten into the habit of doing while still in the Navy.

    Coronado was five years behind him now, but he never let his PT lag. A healthy body and a healthy mind. Part of his motto in his days with the teams before he had moved into Intelligence. He ran five miles then turned and headed back to the small ranch style home that was not far outside the confines of the San Diego Naval Base and Shipyard. He would often see old friends, some still active squids when he ran, but not always. Today was a day when he did not.

    Cooper had returned home, poured a cup of Folger’s French Vanilla roast and added some sweetener before sipping it and heading for the shower. By the time he had shaved and showered the coffee was down to a drinkable temperature and he finished the cup as he pulled on cotton briefs and a white Polo shirt. He followed that with white socks, blue jeans and white Starter running shoes. Once dressed he had eaten his breakfast and headed for the office.

    ~ ~ ~

    Cooper was shuffling through his mail when the door opened and a familiar face walked through the door. You call this place an office? Eddie James asked.

    Eddie, what the hell brings you dragging through my door? Cooper stood, grinning. Eddie was a former dive buddy from his days on the teams. Like Cooper, Eddie was tall with broad shoulders and a lean swimmer’s build. Eddie had brown hair and was starting to go bald, with dark-colored eyes. He was wearing a white collarless shirt buttoned to the top, the sleeves rolled back to ¾ lengths and a pair of OD green cargo pants. Brown loafers covered his feet.

    I need your help, Mitch. Eddie said.

    Well sit down and tell me about it. You want some coffee? Cooper asked.

    Coffee would be good, Eddie nodded. Cooper carried his nearly empty mug to the coffee pot, refilled it and poured a mug for his old friend. Cooper then carried both mugs back to his desk and set one down in front of Eddie.

    So what’s up? Cooper asked, taking a sip.

    My fiancé disappeared two days ago. I want you to find her, Eddie said.

    You’re getting married? Ol’ Eddie a girl in every port? Cooper grinned.

    Yeah. At least I was. Until Kara disappeared.

    You sound sure of that, Cooper observed. He had a Beach Boys CD playing in the back ground. It just started playing "I get around."

    Yeah. I was supposed to meet her at The Prado in Balboa Park two days ago at seven o’clock to start planning the wedding, Eddie sighed.

    You sure she just didn’t get cold feet?

    I am. I went to her place after she didn’t show up. It was torn all to hell, Eddie said soberly.

    Did you call the police?

    I did. They refuse to look into it until she was gone at least 24 hours and truth to tell, they just don’t seemed that interested.

    So what do you want me to do? Cooper asked.

    I want you to find her, Mitch. I love that girl more than life itself, Eddie said.

    You have a picture?

    I do, Eddie pulled one from his wallet and slid the picture across his desk. Cooper picked it up and looked at it. Kara was a pretty girl with short brown hair and large expressive brown eyes. She had a smile that was contagious and he knew immediately why Eddie had fallen for her.

    Her full name? Mitch asked.

    Kara Quentin.

    Age?

    Twenty Eight, Eddie sighed.

    Address? Eddie rattled it off.

    Usually I charge 500 bucks a day plus expenses, but for you I’ll cut it in half.

    Thanks, Eddie peeled ten one hundred dollar bills off of a roll that he pulled from his pants pocket and put them on the desk. That enough to start?

    It is. Eddie, where did you get this kind of money? Cooper looked at him.

    Work, Eddie shrugged. Cooper sighed and pulled out a contract, filled in his part and slid it across the desk for Eddie to sign and then pulled off the client copy and handed it off to Eddie. He folded up his own copy and stuck it into a manila folder that he had removed from a desk drawer. The picture of Kara went into it as well.

    Thanks, Mitch. I won’t forget this, Eddie said as he stood. Mitch stood and shook hands with his old friend. Eddie gulped down his coffee and stood.

    Glad to help, Mitch said. Eddie grinned and walked outside. Mitch had sat back down at his desk when he heard the unmistakable sound of a fast-moving car impacting a body. Mitch was up and running around his desk heading for the door.

    The sun was already radiating heat up from the bleached asphalt of the parking lot of the strip mall. Eddie was lying off to the side, his neck and head at an impossible angle. Broken for sure. Mitch ran to him, checking for a pulse. There was none. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911.

    The first responders were there within minutes, even though it was clear that there was nothing they could do for Eddie. Mitch stood and walked numbly back to his office. Eddie had come to him for help. Now Eddie was dead. That had to mean something. That had to mean that Eddie had been right about Kara’s disappearance.

    Mitch took a seat behind his desk and waited for the police to get to him. He would tell them the basics, but not everything. He owed Eddie that much. He would find Kara, and he would find out who had killed Eddie. Once that was done, he would avenge Eddie’s death no matter what it took.

    ~ ~ ~

    Detective Jake Arnold and his partner, Detective Renee Phillips, had caught the call on the hit and run. Jake was behind the wheel as they rolled up on the scene. He parked along the curb, not bothering to pull into the lot, and hit his mars lights to alert oncoming cars that it was a police unit. The coroner was already there looking over the body and doing his thing, the meat wagon in the lot to take the body back to the lab once the on-site examination was done.

    Detective Phillips headed over to the body while Arnold went to speak to the uniformed first responders. He recognized one of the patrol guys, a Sgt. Hyatt. The two of them had been at the academy at the same time. What have we got, Sarge? Jake Arnold asked.

    First I thought it was just a classic hit and run. But from the plastic shards and glass fragments, plus the condition of the body, it became obvious that it was something else, Hyatt replied.

    You done a canvas yet?

    No, we waited on you. Caller has an office here. Second doorway down.

    You talk to him yet?

    I figured you’d want to handle that. The guy’s a private ticket, been in business about five years now. Name of Mitch Cooper.

    Start canvassing the other shops, see if you can find any witnesses. I’ll go talk to this Cooper guy. See if the gas station over there has any video cameras that can see this lot and if they do, get me the tapes, DVDs, whatever they got, Arnold ordered.

    Will do. Hey Morales, Fitzgerald, talk to everybody, Hyatt yelled at two of the uniforms and then started across for the gas station by himself. Jake Arnold shook his head and then headed for the private eye’s office.

    ~ ~ ~

    Mitch looked up as the electric eye across the door chimed to tell him someone had entered. The man that had come through the doorway was a cop. It was obvious from the cheap wrinkled suit that he wore to the food-stained tie hanging at half mast around the thick mass of muscle that passed for a neck. His jowls were getting heavy, though he hadn’t gone completely to fat. His hair was red

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