For Sale in Palm Springs: The Henry Wright Mystery Series

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Monday, April 17

Henry Wright's wristwatch alarm started beeping. The sound signaled that it was forty-five minutes since he started swimming his daily laps in his backyard pool. He took a couple of cool down laps and then rolled over on his back to look up at the sky that was just turning pale blue. He floated in the middle of the pool, relaxing before climbing out. He liked swimming early in the morning, the air was still cool, and the water felt good on his bare skin and it was a great way to wake up.

His lap swimming also resulted that he was in the best shape that he had ever been in his sixty-one years. He'd never had a problem with weight; he carried one hundred eighty pounds on his just over six foot frame as he had since college. But since he started swimming every day, it had redistributed. He was wearing a whole pants size smaller, but his shoulders and chest were larger and some of his old sport coats didn't fit as well as they used to.

Henry wrapped the big towel that he'd left on the chaise lounge around himself as he heard the phone ring. He looked at the open French doors to his bedroom and at the doors to the kitchen and decided to head for the kitchen and pick the phone up there. He looked at his watch as he hurried through the doors, who could be calling this early?

"Hello" he said warily into the receiver.

"Good morning Mr. Wright, I didn't wake you did I?" The voice in the receiver said.

"No, no, not at all". Henry replied. "I was out in the pool."

"Can you meet me for breakfast, the usual place?"

"This isn't Thursday, and you called me Mr. Wright - you must need help." Henry replied. "Sure, I can be there in an hour."

"Can you make it thirty minutes?"

"You must really need my help." Henry said.

"Well yes, I do actually, but I was up early and haven't had breakfast so I'm really hungry."

"Ok, I'll be there as quick as I can." Henry said hanging up the phone. He rubbed some of the wetness that was still on his ear off the phone, and headed for the bathroom.

As he was standing in the shower, he thought about Wayne Johnson's call. It did sound urgent; it wasn't just the fact that Wayne was hungry. Wayne and Henry met every Thursday morning for breakfast, but today was Monday. The last time Wayne called and invited Henry out for a meal early in the morning outside of their weekly breakfasts, he needed help solving a particularly nasty death of a University of California Riverside geologist at Anza-Borrego Desert State Park. Henry was glad to help. He and Wayne made a good team, even though they never worked together officially, and it gave Henry something to do.

Wayne Johnson was captain of detectives at the Palm Springs police department. Henry met Wayne in Washington more than twenty years ago when they were sent there by their respective organizations to take a fingerprint forensics class at the FBI headquarters in Virginia. They hit it off then, and were casual friends until Henry retired to Palm Springs three years ago. Then they started target shooting at the pistol range and having breakfast together on a regular basis and Henry had been over to the Johnson's for dinner numerous times.

Henry ran his hand over his hair, there was no need to comb it, and he kept it cut very close to his head. He knew that he had gone gray years ago, but at this length, it wasn't noticeable. Even Mario the barber at the shop downtown called him "Mr. Number Two", for the size of the clip on the electric clippers he used on him. He had an all over, all year tan, one of the benefits of living in the desert and having a house with a private pool. He picked up his razor and thought about Wayne's request for his help, he didn't remember reading in the newspaper about any particular case that Wayne was working on, but then he'd been busy the last couple of days.