MASS MURDER

Dedicated to my dad
,
who loved a good mystery.

Cover Photo:
John Bohart

Cover Design:
Jaynee Bohart

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

My sincere thanks go to
Grub Street Reads for endorsing my book. It feels great to be acknowledged as an “indie” author. Thanks also go to
my friends, family, co-workers, and fellow writers who continue to support this obsession I have with writing. It can’t be easy. Special thanks to my good friend Chris Lavender for giving me Grosvner’s name. So perfect! Thanks to those who vetted fact: Kevin & Pam Miles (retired Catholic priest and nun) and retired police officer, Don Persson. Thanks to my friend Valerie O’Halloran who gave me some good revision advice, and my brother for the wonderful cover photo. I couldn’t have written Detective Giorgio Salvatori so authentically if it weren’t for my long-time friend, fellow thespian, and police detective, Mike Magnotti, on whom some, but not all, of the character is based. He actually did say that becoming a police officer cured his insatiable desire to be on stage. That statement was one of the things that inspired me to write the book. I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge my home town of Sierra Madre, a lovely community of only about 20,000 that really is nestled in the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains. While I lived very near the resident Catholic monastery there, I chose to create a completely fictitious monastery for this story. Most of all, thanks to my daughter, Jaynee, not only for designing the cover, but for putting up
with me on a day-to-day basis!

C
hapter One

Premonitions were taken seriously in the Norville family.
When
Syd
Norville
was six
years old
his
mother
abruptly
ab
orted a trip to Florida
to celebrate the birth of her niece
because
of a dream
she’d had
the night before in which the plane crashed
.
T
he plane she
’d been
scheduled to
board
the next day
did, in fact, crash
on
take-off
due to a faulty suspension rig,
killing all two
h
undred
and forty passengers.
When
Syd
was twelve, his
older
sister
abandoned
her millionaire husband-to-be at the altar because
of a
bad feeling
about the honeymoon
.
T
he groom
went on to Aruba
alone
and was killed two days later
when his
rented
car
flew
o
ff
a cliff
.
When
Syd
was home on leave from the Navy,
he’d been about to cross a downtown street when
an inexplicable feeling
made him
suddenly
retreat
to
the curb.
A moment later
,
a
n old van
barreled through the intersection
followed by a police car, both
c
oming
to within inches
of
where Syd
would have been standing
.

Yes, premonitions were taken seriously in the Norville family.

Syd
’s old Chevy truck
pulled into the west parking lot of the massive Catholic monastery
where he
worked five nights a week
as a janitor
.
H
e climbed
down from the cab
and let
his
right
hand
linger on the
tattered
steering wheel
cover
.
A
glance at the
hazy
moon peek
ing
through a clump of trees at the south end of the property
made him shudder
.
Something was wrong.
He could feel it
.
And hi
s impulse was to run
.

He turned his head
to
listen, remembering the night several months before when a child’s voice had sent him scurrying through the mammoth building
looking for the source
.
Since then, cold spots had stopped him in the middle of heated hallways and once, when a pair of invisible fingers slid across his forearm, he’d thought seriously about finding another job.
The
acid pouring into
his stomach
now
made him wish he had.
A
penetrating breeze
rising up from the southern tip of the property
sen
t
shivers
across his shoulders like a thousand sand crabs
running
for cover
.
It was five minutes to nine.
He had to make up his mind.

Syd grabbed
his lunchbox from
behind
the seat
and
closed the battered truck door
. H
e needed to
ignore the voices in his head
and get to work
.
His fingers flexed around
the
Rosary
in his pocket
for
comfort. With a shake of his shoulders,
he hurried toward the west door
before he could change his mind
.

Lights blazed in the banquet room
,
and the sound of laughter
replaced
thoughts of
impending
disaster
.
The
white
catering van was still parked in the lot.
The
young Miss Fields
would depart soon, leaving behind a small clean-up crew.
These parties often lasted until well past midnight, so no telling when he’d have access to the banquet room where his job was only to
pick up the trash,
vacuum
,
and spot clean the carpet.
T
he
ignition of a car engine
made him turn around
as he reached for the door
.
A
pair of headlights flick
ed
on in the parking lot
. A
moment later,
a
familiar Toyota Camry pulled out.

Syd slipped inside the back door
and
turned
down a short hallway towards the cleaning closet
. H
e would start tonight at the other end of the building in order to avoid the party guests.
He liked to mix up his routine, sometimes going through the building clockwise, sometimes counter clockwise, sometimes all out of order.
It helped to relieve the boredom.
T
hirty years as a shop manager
made
this work meaningless, but
it
helped
to
pay
his wife’s
medical bills.
A
fter surgery to remove a kidney
,
her
prognosis was good
. T
he image of his plump little wife sitting comfortably at home warmed his insides,
helping to
further
reduce his jitters
.

With
the feeling of dread beginning to
fade
, he stepped into the closet and flicked on the single 40-watt bulb that served as an overhead light.
It
only illuminated the area right next to the door
,
but Syd could have found his way around blind, he was that familiar with how things were organized.
His lungs
inhaled the
comforting
sweetness of the powdered soap that
sat in boxes
on a shelf to his left
, but a
n almost imperceptible tingling at the back of his
neck
made him think there was something more
.
It was an odor he didn’t recognize
, something dank among the aroma of pine and borax.
With trembling fingers, he tucked his lunchbox under one arm and reached
for
the small flask
he
now
carried
in his pants pocket
.
H
e r
emoved the cap
with practiced ease
and took a
swig
. T
he searing flow of whisky inflame
d
his throat
. W
ithin moments
,
his muscles relaxed
,
and the
tremors in his hands
began to disappear
.