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Chasing Marie
Ratings:
217 pages3 hours
Summary
'Chasing Marie' is the second book in the Sherry and Ed Rogen mystery series. In 'Chasing Marie', we find the
husband and wife team reluctantly drawn into a series of murders while on the hunt for a mysterious relic of the tragic French queen, Marie Antoinette.
However, it doesn't take long for the Rogens to discover they are the hunted as well the hunters and that a secret society formed to protect the precious relic will stop at nothing to keep it from being discovered .
Publisher: Bruce WhitakerReleased: Apr 5, 2018ISBN: 1370107862Format: book
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Chasing Marie - Bruce Whitaker
LOVELY
The smell of death hung heavy in the air, and the chill of the room could be seen with each exhalation of breath. In the center of the austere chamber, a single overhead light illuminated a metallic table loosely draped with a white sheet. Standing restlessly nearby was Sgt. Meyers of Pensacola homicide.
When Sherry and Ed hesitated to approach the body, the burly detective gruffly waved them closer. Then, with the briefest of smiles, Sgt. Meyers abruptly lifted a corner of the sheet. Both Sherry and Ed involuntarily shuddered at the sight of the dead woman’s ghastly appearance. The blackened protruding tongue, the bluish-gray pallor of the body, and the distinct ligature mark around her neck clearly confirmed the cruel manner of death.
Well?
Sgt. Meyers asked curtly.
She’s dead alright,
Ed confirmed.
Damn it!
Sgt. Meyers exploded. Do either of you know her?
Sherry and Ed both silently shook their heads.
Are you sure?
Sgt. Meyers belligerently continued.
Of course we’re sure, you son-of-a-bitch,
Ed snapped back.
Sherry angrily turned to face the detective, her voice harsh, Meyers, what is it with you and your cheap theatrics? If you weren’t a cop, I’d punch your lights out.
Unfazed by Sherry’s empty threat, the detective persisted, What about Sue Lovely? Ever hear the name before?
Sherry looked questioningly at her husband. Ed shook his head. The name doesn’t ring a bell,
he said.
Sgt. Meyers shrugged dismissively, Okay, I guess that’s it then, thanks for coming down; sorry for the inconvenience.
Sherry bit her lip and clenched her fists. Meyers had primed the pump, and now there was nothing to do but drink the water.
You sadistic bastard,
Sherry growled. Why did you drag us down here?
Sgt. Meyers smirked at the Rogens growing irritation and nodded toward the corpse. Meet Sue Lovely. The once proud owner of an art gallery on West Romana Street called Marie’s Treasures.
Bully for her,
Ed angrily responded. Now have the decency to cover the poor woman and answer my wife’s question.
Squeamish Mr. Rogen? I thought by now you would be used to this kind of thing.
Ed moved threateningly toward Meyers. You can always volunteer to keep me in practice.
Sherry wedged herself between the two men. For heaven’s sake, Meyers, what stupid game are you playing?
Sgt. Meyers watched the frustration play across their faces and congratulated himself. He didn’t often have the upper hand in his dealings with the Rogens, but when he did, he was determined to extract every ounce of satisfaction he could.
The core of his dislike for the husband and wife team didn’t just stem from their long-standing ability to outwit him at every turn but from his burning desire for Sherry which he was powerless to satisfy.
Even now in the gloomy surroundings of the morgue, he struggled against her physical enticements. Despite his best efforts to remain impassive, the chill of the room had excited Sherry’s nipples to such an extent that he found it impossible to look away. In this befuddled state of mind, he heard a gasp.
Meyers!
The homicide detective heard Sherry cry out.
The police sergeant looked up to find her eyes locked on his with such menace that he was forced to take a step back. Thrown off balance, the homicide detective cursed himself. Felled by his own dissolute passions, he desperately wanted to strike out, but go to hell,
was all he could weakly muster.
Ed moved to stand toe to toe with Sgt. Meyers. You want to gawk at my chest? You pervert.
Get out of my face!
The homicide detective hoarsely cried out while trying to regain his composure.
For her part, Sherry couldn’t get away from the morgue and Meyer’s vulgar attention fast enough. One last time, Meyers, why did you bring us down here?
She demanded.
With more abruptness than he intended, Sgt. Meyers reached under the sheet and roughly pulled out the dead woman’s left hand. The detective was whipped, and he knew it. He had no fight left, and now all he wanted was to be as far away from the Rogens as possible.
Your agency address is written on her palm,
he curtly explained.
What?
Ed asked in amazement.
Reluctantly, Ed retrieved a pair of latex gloves from a box on the nearby counter and took hold of the lifeless hand. With a grimace, he opened the palm. It’s a bit smeared, but it is our address alright, 1221 South Palafox.
According to her employee, Sue Lovely had a problem with her memory,
the detective grudgingly conceded.
Well, she never contacted us,
Sherry insisted vehemently.
If you say so,
Sgt. Meyers replied with a touch of his old bravado returning.
For a moment, Ed seriously thought about taking a swing at the detective, but he detected something in the sergeant’s shifty demeanor that made him suspicious. Is there something you are not telling us?
I’ve told you everything you need to know. You can leave whenever you want.
We’re not going anywhere yet,
Ed firmly insisted and began to examine Sue Lovely in greater detail. But it wasn’t until he uncurled her right hand that he found what Sgt. Meyers had purposely failed to disclose.
Any particular reason you didn’t want us to see this?
Ed angrily demanded.
Sherry stepped closer and found herself staring at the unmistakable image of a bee.
Is that a tattoo?
Ed rubbed the bee impression with his gloved thumb and looked closer: It is a tattoo, alright.
Where was her body found?
Sherry asked.
Sgt. Meyers swallowed hard. The fragrance coming from Sherry’s long blond hair was assailing his senses. Once again, he had to fight to focus his thoughts: In her art gallery. An employee arriving for work discovered the body.
Was it a robbery?
Sgt. Meyers shrugged, It looks that way. But apparently, money wasn’t the motive. The only thing the killer seems to have taken was a painting.
A painting?" Sherry’s interest had finally been piqued.
What about her next of kin? If Sue Lovely were indeed coming to see us, maybe they would have an idea why.
She has a twin sister who identified the body, but she doesn’t have a clue why her sister needed the services of a detective agency, especially yours,
Sgt. Meyers vaguely replied.
Any other family?
Ed asked.
Sgt. Meyers shrugged indifferently, Apparently not; it seems Sue Lovely was a member of a very unlucky family. Her husband died in a car accident shortly after they married, and her father mysteriously disappeared five years ago without a trace. I’m given to understand he was a professor at the University of West Florida.
Well, she never called on us,
Ed was quick to confirm. Now if there is nothing else, we will leave you with Sue Lovely and her missing painting.
Sgt. Meyer’s eyes narrowed as he watched the Rogens turn for the exit. With his hormones still racing to and fro, he had almost forgotten his last bolt. By the way, did I tell you the name of the stolen painting?
The Rogens hesitated for a moment. Sgt. Meyers allowed himself the briefest of smiles, "It’s called Blue Roses on Lake Rogen."
RELIC
Ed’s face was visibly ashen as he stared across his desk at Ms. Heather Sherman. Sherry was not quite as unnerved as her husband seemed to be, but she was still a bit unsettled.
I believe we just left your sister in the morgue, Ms. Sherman. May we assume that’s why you’re here?
Ed asked more shrilly than he would have wished.
When Ms. Sherman looked at him, Ed shuddered. He distinctly felt he was staring into the face of a reanimated corpse. Indeed, Ms. Sherman’s grief-stricken eyes only added to the spine-chilling visage before him.
Yes, Mr. Rogen. As you have already guessed, it was my twin sister you saw in the morgue this morning. I’ve come to provide any assistance, or to answer any questions you may have concerning my sister and her business affairs. After meeting Sgt. Meyers of homicide, I have considerable doubts as to the efficacy of the local police department to solve her murder.
You’re right to have your doubts, Ms. Sherman,
Ed quickly agreed. But you were badly misinformed if you think we were involved in your sister’s affairs in any way.
Sherry, who had been studying the woman intently, became increasingly uneasy. Her intuition was telling her something wasn’t quite right about their visitor, but what she couldn’t say.
My husband is correct, Ms. Sherman,
Sherry confirmed. Before this morning, we had no dealings with your dead sister whatsoever, but since you’re here, maybe you can tell us why our address was written on the palm of her hand.
Ms. Sherman looked at the Rogens in bewilderment. I don’t have the slightest idea. Actually, I never even heard of your detective agency until that disgusting Sgt. Meyers made a point of showing her hand to me.
Then I guess we’re all completely in the dark,
Sherry said. ‘I hope for your sake the police can make something of this strange affair. If there is anything we can do for you in the future, please let us know."
Sherry’s outright dismissal seemed to shock Ms. Sherman. That’s it! You mean to tell me that after everything my sister did for you, you’re not going to make any effort to find out who killed her. How disreputable can you be?
Sherry and Ed looked at each other mystified. What did your sister do for us?
Sherry asked.
Ms. Sherman’s face grew hard and grim. I suppose you’re going to sit there all innocent looking and say you didn’t know my sister bequeathed her art gallery to the Rogen Agency just hours before her murder.
I’m afraid, Ms. Sherman, you have us at a disadvantage. We don’t have a clue what you are talking about,
Sherry insisted.
Ms. Sherman scowled menacingly at the Rogens. I have just come from my sister’s attorney who informed me that the art gallery, which I assumed I would be inheriting, was left to the Rogen Detective Agency instead.
Sherry and Ed looked at one another in wonder. Ms. Sherman, we can honestly say we never heard of your sister before this morning, and we have no idea why she left us her art gallery, if indeed she has,
Sherry earnestly replied.
Ms. Sherman continued to glare at the Rogens. I assure you I’m not a woman to be trifled with. I checked you out before coming here, and at first glance, you appear to have a good reputation, but I’m afraid I don’t find your disclaimers concerning my sister’s art gallery very credible. There must be a reason she left the gallery to you.
Sherry leaned threateningly toward Ms. Sherman. I don’t like our ethics being questioned.
Ms. Sherman continued unfazed, It’s also rumored that you two have a tendency to knock people around if you don’t get your way. Having just met you, I have no doubt there’s truth in that as well.
Without the slightest hesitation, Sherry grasped a slapjack from underneath her skirt and threw it on the desk. Ms. Sherman’s eyes grew wide. You’re at least right about one thing; I do get a great deal of satisfaction from smacking the hell out of people who piss me off, and you are getting pretty damn close,
Sherry retorted angrily.
Ed couldn’t help but wince at the gargoyle-like countenance scowling back at Sherry. It wasn’t just that Ms. Sherman looked so remarkably like her dead sister, but she also was just as incredibly ugly. Her long face and protruding teeth reminded Ed of a hee-hawing donkey.
It was my understanding you’re the smart one, and your husband is the muscle.
Ms. Sherman replied in surprise, choosing to ignore Ed’s obvious discomfort.
Sherry half-laughed and half-smirked, I am the smart one, but we take turns being the muscle.
Ed took the opportunity to make a lighthearted jab at his wife, Don’t let her Nordic good looks fool you, Ms. Sherman. Under those blond curls, my wife‘s heart and soul are as black as night – a brazen hussy who will do whatever it takes to bust a man’s balls.
Sherry smiled roguishly back at her husband. Don’t be such a hypocrite! You love it when I play rough.
Ms. Sherman sat for a moment, and then to the Rogens utter astonishment, she began to smile. With a flourish, she pulled out a checkbook from her handbag and began to write furiously.
I’m no fool,
Ms. Sherman cautioned. "Play your games if you must, but my sister had a reason for leaving you her gallery. If you won’t tell me for professional reasons, that’s fine. But the only reasonable explanation that can explain such an extraordinary bequest is that she knew she was in grave danger and wanted her quest for the Bee to continue if anything should happen. She must have intended her gallery as compensation for that quest."
But make no mistake,
she continued, "As her sole living heir, the Bee belongs to me. If you have it or know where it is, I expect you to hand it over and there will be no need to further involve the police. This check should ensure that it will eventually find its way into my hands."
Sherry took the check offered by Ms. Sherman and whistled in spite of herself.
Bee! What bee?
Ed asked in complete confusion. A honey bee? A bumble bee? What kind of bee are you talking about?
No! No!
Ms. Sherman exclaimed irritably. "The Bee is a relic resembling a bee. I’m convinced that this bee relic was the cause of my father’s disappearance five years ago, and the reason for my sister’s murder."
Holding Ms. Sherman’s check in her hand, Sherry was somewhat pacified. Are we to understand that you were not part of your sister’s relic hunt?
Ms. Sherman nodded in agreement. "I was not. It was strictly my sister’s quest. After our father disappeared, she took up his cause. Over time, she became quite obsessed with the Marie Antoinette relic called the Bee. Since I was highly skeptical in the existence of such an odd artifact, I saw her even less."
Sherry eyed her new client suspiciously. Yet, now you just handed us a very substantial retainer to ensure the bee relic comes into your possession.
My sister’s murder has convinced me it must exist. Why else was she killed?
You said Marie Antoinette’s relic,
Ed interrupted. Are we talking about the French queen who had her head chopped off by the guillotine?
That’s the one.
Ms. Sherman confirmed. When my father went to Paris to research documents relating to her life and death, he came across a journal belonging to one of Marie Antoinette’s bodyguards. In it, the bodyguard related how he secured a relic at the Queen’s execution and brought it here to Pensacola. My father was determined to find it.
Incredulity spread across Sherry’s face. I’ve heard some whoppers, but this is one for the books.
Ms. Sherman smiled. That’s exactly how I felt, but my father was certain the story was true and managed to sway my sister into believing it as well.
And you are convinced his disappearance and your sister’s murder are connected to this bee relic?
Ms. Sherman shrugged. I’m sure they are, but I have no proof. The Order of the Blue Rose may have nothing to do with Sue’s murder whatsoever.
Ed burst out laughing while Sherry eyed their new client with renewed misgivings. What the hell is the Order of the Blue Rose?
"Apparently, it is a secret society created to protect the Bee," answered Ms. Sherman.
Ed burst out laughing again.
"Forgive me for saying so, but it sounds
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