Murder On The Mind - Chapter 1

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After insurance investigator Jeff Resnick is viciously mugged, he discovers the resulting brain injury has left him able to sense people’s secrets. When his estranged half-brother, Richard, takes Jeff to the family home to recover, Jeff’s senses pick up clues to the recent vicious murder of a local banker. Despite Jeff’s mixed feelings about his new sixth sense, he feels compelled to explore the banker’s murder--using both his senses and his investigative skills, along with Richard’s reluctant help. Against the gritty setting of wintry Buffalo, NY, and a tormented family history of his own, unraveling the truth threatens Jeff’s--and Richard’s--life.

Murder On The Mind

The first Jeff Resnick Mystery

By L. L. Bartlett

Copyright © 2005 by L. L. Bartlett All rights reserved.   No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means (including photocopying, recording, or information storage and retrieval) without permission in writing from the author.

 This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is purely coincidental. 

CHAPTER 1

Something walloped me in the gut. A hit without substance—without pain. It sucked me from the here and now to a vacant place where a hollow wind brushed my ears.

I waited.

There. In my peripheral vision: Coming out of the mist. An animal. A deer. A buck.

I blinked and was back in the bar, bending over the felt-lined table.

“You gonna shoot or not?” Marty growled.

My fingers tightened around the cue, which stopped their sudden trembling. I held my breath as I made the shot. The cue ball kissed the six and sent it into the left corner pocket. I straightened, trying to hide the unexpected panic churning my insides. “That’s another five bucks you owe me.”

Marty chewed the unlit stub of his cigar, fumbled with his wallet, and dug out a crisp five-dollar bill, slapping it onto the table. “Double or nothing.”

Uh-uh. I needed to get out of there. To think about what had just happened to me.

“I’d love to, but I start a new job first thing in the morning.” I snatched up my winnings and replaced the cue stick on the wall rack. O’Shea’s smoky, blue-collar friendliness had been a haven from boredom and loneliness, reminding me of the taverns back home in Buffalo, only it was pool, not darts, that drew the Sunday night crowd.

“Go ahead, leave,” Marty grumbled, gazing down the length of his cue. “But be back here—same time next week. Me and the boys are gonna win back everything you’ve taken from us.” His break shot went wild. He should have stuck with darts.

“In your dreams,” I said and shrugged into my leather bomber jacket.

“Are y’leaving so soon, Jeffrey?” Pretty Annie McBride, an Irish lass of about twenty-five with a killer smile, hefted a tray of drinks as she served a couple at a nearby table.

“Have to, darlin’.”

“An’ when are y’going ta ask me out? I’m not getting any younger, y’know.”

I eyed her appreciatively but considered my thin wallet. “Soon.”

“I’ll be collecting Social Security at this rate.”

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