Miami Spring - The Spear Point Murders by Timothy Tuohy by Timothy Tuohy - Read Online



Cameron Bachrodt is a regular City of Miami robbery detective putting in his time and waiting for retirement. But during Calle Ocho the events that are so typical of Miami engulf him in a tide of intrigue and deception. People are being killed all around him and at first it looks like he might have gone bad. With help from FDLE Agents Randy Raikes and Catherine “Tomcat” Taylor, Cam, as he is called, follows a twisting path until he uncovers the truth. Set in real Miami locations he struggles to stop the killing before Ultra opens.
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ISBN: 9781329530362
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Miami Spring - The Spear Point Murders - Timothy Tuohy

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Copyright 2015

© As Tomcat Thompson – The Point of the Spear

All rights reserved by Timothy Tuohy.

No part of this book may be reproduced or retransmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopies, scans, recording tape, or by any data storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of Timothy Tuohy.

First Edition

For additional information:

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You can also go to and click on the picture of the book, it will take you to the page the publisher set up for me.

ISBN 978-1-329-53036-2


This book is dedicated to Cheryl my friend who was so helpful in the proof reading process and to my muses - so few – so important; and to locations, events, and generally to the City of Miami for being so full of interesting things to write about.  Thanks to Koke for letting me use his place in the climactic scene.  Thanks to all the dedicated health care workers I have had the privilege of working with and to the police for being on the job all day – every day.

Many of the places in this book are real.  Why don’t y’all come on down to Miami and experience them for yourself?

Table of Contents





























Miami News – January 14 - Miami Police are investigating after a woman was found murdered and left lying in the middle of the street Tuesday morning.  The woman's body was found around 4:30 A.M. in the area of Northwest 12th Street and 7th Avenue.  Police identified the woman as Maria Becenti, 44, also known as Chéri on the street. It's believed she may have been stabbed to death, but police haven't confirmed how she was killed.  The woman was homeless and a witness said she had been dancing with another woman before she was killed.


The sun was blindingly bright and a little warmer than normal for this time of the year.  March is usually one of the most comfortable months in Miami.  The days are warm and the nights are still likely to cool to the low seventies.  Bright white cotton ball clouds drifted across the crystal blue dome of the sky driven by a steady sea breeze.  The palm fronds seemed to dance to the music that filled the streets casting shadows swaying on the sidewalks below and creating window blind shadows on Cameron Bachrodt’s papers.  The music pulsed and reverberated from the walls of the shops and buildings; it filled the space between spaces with an energy that vibrated within the souls of the celebrants in the streets.  The percussion from every beat of the drum vibrated through the car and every ivory and ebony note from the pianos that blended with the sultry sounds of the guitars called the people to their feet to dance.  It was as if an ancient magical spell was interlaced with the music of the Spanish Guitar calling those people whose roots were in Spain to get to their feet and celebrate their Latin ancestries and heritage. 

Never will you see such a delicious display of gorgeous women in styles so revealing as you will prevue in Miami during Carnival.  This is the annual celebration which is honored all over Latin America in conjunction with Lent.  This is the time when Catholics shed their guilt to honor their sinful desires, to indulge in debauchery and lust; and best of all – the women danced!  This is definitely the most incredible time to view God’s creation at its very best!

Of course, there are a few other sins one may want to include in the list.  One might want to smoke a cool Cuban cigar or sip an ice cold Cuba Libré.  Rum flowed like rivers that were tapped into the cups and glasses of party goers.  All pain, disappointment, frustration, and depression were washed away in the biggest block party in the Western Hemisphere.

This … all this revelry and passion … was under the passively watchful surveillance of the Miami Police.

Lieutenant Cameron Bachrodt was Irish cop with a German last name and maybe a little Native American thrown in. He was a left-over from the old days in Miami.  There weren’t a lot of the old Anglo-Saxon people left in Miami.  From the early days of Henry Flagler’s railroad until the ‘fifties, Miami was an Anglo-Saxon and African-American city at the southern end of a peninsula thrust deep into the Latin American world of the Caribbean.  They were washed away and pushed aside by the near constant influx of immigrants from South and Central America.  Cam was not a native but, he had been here for so very long that he felt as if Miami was his home.  His children had been born here. They had grown up here for a while, but that was before their mother left and took them to Texas. He pulled the visor down in his cruiser and looked at the photos he had of his kids.  They were adults now, and seemed to be happy in their pursuits.  He saw them only once a year but that was all going to change in a few months when he retired. 

His body belied his age and the short twenty months until he retired from the Miami Police.  His muscles were taught and ripped as if he were a man in his twenties.  His skin was tanned brown and smooth.  He leaned forward and looked at his nearly perfect teeth in the rear-view mirror; he grinned broadly picking at his teeth with his index finger.  His teeth were false but you would have to know it to tell because shortly after getting them he was drilling a hole when the drill kicked out and chipped one of his front teeth making them appear very real.

Cam’s false teeth were provided by the Air Force, because he lost most his teeth in the war when a Taliban insurgent smashed them out with a pipe.  Cam shook his head and looked out at the crowds.  That Taliban won’t be swinging any more pipes, but boy did it hurt when the pipe snapped those teeth off at the gum line.

Above his mouth his long narrow nose had a slight bend in it where it had been broken in another fight.  His eyes were set deep beneath a thick Neanderthal brow, they were steely clear and blue, but when he was angry they turned gun metal gray.  His black hair was salted liberally, and along his temples it has quite gray indeed.  His high cheek bones gave his face a countenance of confidence.  He stroked his chin.  He was not blessed with an abundance of body hair, he could barely grow a beard, even now he was in his fifties and he only needed to shave once a week.

He chuckled to himself as he pushed the visor back up and looked out of the windshield glass.  He had been on a date with ‘una Cubana’ once while wearing shorts.  The ladies were all in a circle laughing and glancing at him.

What? he had demanded convivially.

They want to know if you shave your legs his date told him.

They couldn’t get his last name either, in Spanish every letter is pronounced by its name. It was pronounced Back-Road.  They couldn’t get the either, the Spanish influence made it into something like Bawshrod.

Cam arrived early for work today for this mandatory overtime project and parked his cruiser in front of Domino Park, on the south side of South West Eighth Street.  He chose a space that was next to the curb near the concrete column that separated the park and the adjoining alley.   There was no building to his right and there were three lanes of street all of which were directed one way – east bound.  He was accordingly facing east toward the advancing ‘parade’ of people. Across Eighth Street a corner store had a mural painted on the façade of dark skinned people in white clothes, the building extended along Eighth Street, its arches opening to the curb, for the length of two city blocks on the north side of the street.  Cam’s position would enable his passive vigilance as he observed the crowd.  With little effort he would be able to see those people who were traveling with the flow but were not part of the flow because they were there for ulterior purposes.  Most bad guys didn’t realize they were obvious to trained observers.  Still, Carnival Miami (Calle Ocho) was not a parade as was the case with Mardi Gras in New Orleans, it was a block party so the flow was not necessarily a parade as much as a pedestrian herd whose peripatetic motion resembled the water in a tide pool.  Still, as with the herds of wild animals the movement of predators may be similar to the movement of the herd but it is obvious to the external observer that the purpose of the predator is different.  Humans were smart trackers though, and as the Native Americans had long ago used animal skins to blend in with the herds to enable a more effective kill, so also the predatory humans today had developed camouflage skills for robbing those who were just out to have a good time.

Cam wore civilian clothes and his cruiser was unmarked.  The windows of his cruiser were tinted. The strobe lights were all hidden. For all intents and purposes an outside person looking in would see only a man sitting in a car waiting for the crowd pass, except no one is long fooled by an undercover police car. 

As he was watching the crowd, a long legged beauty was walking toward him.  She was like smoke as she lifted her knees high, sensually pointing her toe to the ground before every step; her long silky tanned legs were the picture of grace as she took each step with specific meaning.  The ruffles of her dress passed from thigh to sensual thigh flowing like water over the rocks of a jetty.  She was a walking Latin dance full of passion and sexual tension. As she walked her hips swayed in the rhythm of the music and this sway she skillfully and purposefully accentuated. Her top clung to her body like a glove covered with sequins.  So form fitting was the fabric that Cam wondered if he weren’t observing an excellently and expertly painted body. The sequins were sparkling like the very stars of the night sky when you see them far out to sea, as if they were proud they had been chosen to highlight the perfect curve of her breasts. Cam was completely absorbed by her. Her slender frame, her sleek seductive arms, her lips … his awareness was mesmerized by her.  Her graceful beauty seduced his thoughts and he succumbed to the point where he was thinking about sex, luscious, passionate all-consuming sexual intercourse that he had dreamed of since he was young but had never really experienced.   Yet that was all he thought about as he looked at her, it was the single thought in his mind since he first saw her until now.

She was tall.

She was slender.

Her breasts were sculpted to her perfect slim body. Her long hair drifted on the breeze as if beckoning with every slight gust come to me.  He realized she was looking right at him; a smug sexually confident smile curled the edges her perfect lips. Somehow that smile was more than just sensual and sexy, it also said, Do you want this?  She was the Siren’s song and Pandora’s box in a wisp smoke, mirror, and Miami magic.

At that very moment, the passenger rear door of his cruiser was jerked open.  A woman dressed in a semi- professional outfit slid into his car. It was more of a plunge than a slide, he thought.

Nice legs, he thought.  In the rear view mirror he could see all the way to her panties as she brought her legs into the car.  She had her phone to her ear and was in the middle of conversation. She interrupted herself long enough to flash a look of distain for his observation of her choice of under garments and for her perceived understanding of his position.  She instructed him to drive where she wanted to go as she pulled the door closed behind her.  It was actually more of a command than an instruction.

Take me to the Four Seasons! she commanded him.  It was clear she expected to be complied with.

Cam just looked at her through the rear view mirror amazed.

Yes! She said into the phone totally oblivious to the Cam’s incredulous view.  I was right there at the conference room table when he said to her that he wanted to have sex with her. She lowered her voice to a whisper, he said ‘I want to fuck you’

She returned to her normal voice without a pause, he said it just like that!  She stopped and listened for a moment, I think that's a clear case of sexual harassment, don’t you? She paused again listened to the speaker on the other end of the phone, no it wasn't a joke he was being totally serious.  She dug in her purse and handed Cam her credit card.  He took it and read the name, ‘Olivia Sanchez’.  He handed it back to her; she took it and put it back in her purse.

No, she continued, maybe he said ‘I want you’ … but it was how he said it, you know?

Cam glanced out his driver's window and noticed that the goddess of long legs had walked on by; he tried in vain, to catch one last look at her from the driver’s side rearview mirror.  Meanwhile, ‘Olivia oblivious’ was not even aware she had interrupted his muse.

I know he's the biggest contributor to the foundation but does that give him the right to demand sex whenever he wants it, with any one he wants? I mean is it right for him to be able to do that?  Again, his unwanted passenger listened to the phone.  She was agitated and it showed in her body language.

Hey when are you going to get going? We don't have all day!  His belligerent, clueless passenger commanded.  Then she turned and looked out of the rear window and pointed with her free left-hand thumb. Look there's an alley right there!  You can just back into it … then back over to the next block; make a right and head downtown!  She glared at him shaking her head in disgust thinking, ‘no wonder he’s a cabby.’

No!  She said to the phone as she glared at his reflection in the mirror, he's just sitting there like a bump on a log. I mean what kind of a taxi is this?  She slid back into her old conversation, Anyway if she doesn't have sex him will he pull the funding from the foundation?  There was a pause as she listened to the person on the phone, she laughed.  Only if she swallows, she said, I mean …, she shifted again listening to the other party.

Cam reached with his left hand and pulled the badge off his belt. He held it in his hand and looked at it, no … this was not a hack license … this was a police badge.

Well, his unwanted passenger said to the phone it’s like Pit Bull says – ‘everybody does’ - I hope she's really good at it because he gives us millions of dollars every year. She laughed mirthlessly. Okay honey I have to go. Better her than me! a quiet