About The Anthology Collection
Title: From New York To The Smokies
Author: Wayne Zurl
Series: 5 Book Anthology Collection from the Sam Jenkins Mystery Series
Publisher: Melange Books, LLC
Publication Date: April 16, 2015
Format: Paperback – 163 pages / eBook / PDF
ISBN: 978-1680460780
Genre: Mystery / Police Procedural
Buy The Anthology Collection (Preorder – Pub Date: April 16, 2015)
Book Description:
Author Wayne Zurl is back with his popular Sam Jenkins Mysteries Series. From New York To The Smokies is a 5 book anthology collection from the Sam Jenkins Mysteries Series!
THE BOAT TO PRISON
Seventeen-year-old Sam Jenkins is busy fishing and falling in love with a girl named Kate. But with a father involved with the union and a divorced mother, Sam often finds himself acting like the adult of the family. During a fishing trip off Long Island, Sam overhears a conversation involving dangerous plans that can land his dad in jail.To keep his father out of prison, Sam teams up with detectives from the county’s rackets bureau and enlists the help of two friends to pull off an operation far beyond their usual high school curriculum.
FAVORS
Police community Service Aide Liz Lopez should be in fine spirits—she’s in line for a promotion to police officer and a raise. But her sullen demeanor tells her boss, Lieutenant Sam Jenkins, that Liz is anything but happy.Jenkins begins an unofficial investigation to find out what’s going on. The detective learns of a bizarre home life and a dark secret Liz keeps under wraps.
FAVORS is a story of how the police take care of their own—in an honest and compassionate way.
ANGEL OF THE LORD
A killer is on the loose in Prospect, Tennessee. He strikes repeatedly, each time leaving a cryptic message for the police to find. By the time a fifth body turns up, Police Chief Sam Jenkins is under pressure—either solve the murders or bring in outside help.But the chief’s ego won’t allow others to work his cases. And at the eleventh hour he tracks down a prime suspect, but death is only seconds away for the next victim.
MASSACRE AT BIG BEAR CREEK
A misunderstanding between hunters rapidly escalates into a battle not seen in Southern Appalachia since the Hatfield and McCoy feud.As bodies pile up faster than evidence, Sam Jenkins and the officers of Prospect PD scour the remote hills and valleys of East Tennessee and North Carolina to solve a case that reads more like an old west adventure than a modern police drama.
ODE TO WILLIE JOE
Prospect, Tennessee Police Chief Sam Jenkins receives two reports of UFO sightings in three days. The gritty ex-New York detective doesn’t believe in coincidence…or space aliens, but he can’t find anything to explain a glowing spaceship and little green men—until he sends Sergeant Stan Rose and Officer Junior Huskey to Campbell’s Woods. They call in a startling discovery, and the investigation begins.
Book Excerpt:
From ANGEL OF THE LORD
The rain never stopped. From early
June through late August, it poured or drizzled almost every day. I thought if
I stood still too long I might begin to mold. It reminded me of the monsoons in
Southeast Asia.
Drops of rain falling from the brim
of my cap were exceeded only by the young woman’s tears.
“When did you see the boy last?” I
asked.
“Right after breakfast. He went
into the living room to watch TV, and I started doing laundry in the basement.”
“And when you came upstairs he was
gone?”
More tears rolled over her cheeks
as she stood there, wringing her hands. “Yes.”
“Was your door locked?”
“Lord have mercy, no.”
“Is your son’s rain jacket here?”
She shrugged and cried a little
more.
“Let’s look,” I suggested.
We walked to the mud room off the
kitchen. A small hooded jacket hung on one of the five pegs over an antique
wooden chair not six feet from the back door. A small pair of bright blue
rubber Wellingtons sat on the floor.
“You call for him outside?”
“Of course. I ran all around.”
Without the puffy eyes and fear
scarring her face, Emily Suttles would have been an attractive brunette.
“And then you called 9-1-1?”
“Yes.”
“What was he watching?”
“I don’t know. He knows how to work
the TV.”
“You turn it off?”
“One of the policemen did.”
“Let’s take a look.”
She stared at me as if I had two
heads. “Why?”
“Indulge me.”
Back in the living room, Emily
picked up the remote control and turned on a flat screen about the size of a
stretch van. The American Movie Classics channel came on playing a scene from Halloween 4.
“Did you or the cops look through
the house?” I asked.
“Yes, of course.”
“All over?”
“Every room.”
“Slowly or quick?”
“Quick. I was frantic.”
“Let’s try again. Where’s Elijah’s
room?”
“Upstairs.” Emily began to look
impatient. “I know he’s not there.”
We walked upstairs anyway. I looked
under the bed. Nothing. The boy’s mother called his name. More nothing. I
opened the closet. Huddled in the left corner, leaning against the wall, four-year-old
Elijah Suttles slept peacefully, a small flashlight in his right hand. I shook
his knee.
“Hey, partner, you doing okay in
here?”
He opened his eyes, blinked
rapidly, and looked frightened.
“Take it easy, son. I’m a
policeman. Your mom couldn’t find you and asked for some help.”
“Jesus have mercy, Elijah,” his
mother said, “you ‘bout scared me half ta death. You come out here right now,
young man.”
“Go slow, Mrs. Suttles. He probably
had a good reason to hide in here. Didn’t you, son?”
The little boy nodded, but still
looked scared.
“Something happen on the TV?”
Another nod.
“Ready to come out now?”
The boy stuck out a hand, and I
pulled. Once on his feet, he scrambled to his mother and locked onto her leg,
mumbling an apology.
“Some of these slasher movies scare
me, too,” I said. “He just ran from the killer on the screen. Wasn’t a bad
idea.”
Emily Suttles hugged her son,
looked at me, and said, “Thank you.”
“I’ll call the three officers and
let them know your son’s safe.”
I switched on the ignition in my
unmarked Crown Victoria and keyed the microphone. “Prospect-one to headquarters
and all units. The missing child has been found. Resume patrol. Five-twelve,
close out the call at 1015 hours.”
PO Johnny Rutledge acknowledged. “10-4,
Prospect-one.”
“Five-oh-nine, I copy that,” Billy
Puckett said.
After a long moment of silence,
Sergeant Bettye Lambert, our desk officer, broke in. “Unit 513, five-one-three,
do you copy?”
No answer.
“Anyone know 513’s 10-35?” I asked.
“Joey was goin’ house ta house,
east end o’ the street,” Puckett said.
“I’m probably the closest,” I said.
“I’ll check.”
Just as I shifted into reverse, PO
Joey Gillespie spoke on the radio.
“513 ta Prospect-one. Boss, ya
gonna need ta see this. 1175 Benny Stillwell Road, obvious 10-5.”
10-5 is our brevity code for a
homicide.
* * * *
Two men lay face down on the
kitchen floor. One with a shaved head made it easy to see the small caliber
bullet hole at the base of his skull—a .25 perhaps or more likely a .22. Blood
trickled from the wound down past his right ear, over a thick neck, and onto
the Mexican tile floor. The other victim’s blood oozed to his left. Funny, the
little details you notice at the scene of a murder.
“You call crime scene and the ME?”
I asked.
“Yessir, had Miss Bettye do it
right after I called ya.”
I nodded and looked around the
kitchen of a relatively new and expensive home. “Big house.”
Joey Gillespie nodded.
“At least 4,000 square feet,” I
guessed. “And quality. These guys had bucks.”
He nodded again and looked a little
queasy.
“The air hasn’t come on recently.
In this humidity blood tends to stink quicker. Smell bother you?”
“Yessir, I ain’t used ta this.”
“Nobody gets used to it, kid. You
just learn to ignore it.”
“I guess.”
“You search the rest of the house?”
“Jest looked on the first floor ta
see if there was anybody here.”
“Basement?”
“Nosir. On a slab.”
“Let’s go upstairs.”
I drew my old Smith & Wesson
from the holster on my right hip, and Joey pulled out his .40 caliber Glock.
“Look around, and pay attention.
Don’t watch me. There’s probably no one here, but we’ll do this by the
numbers.”
“Yessir. I’m right behind ya.”
We made a quick sweep of the first
floor, opening all the closets before ascending the stairs. The landing above
left us in a hallway with what looked like four bedrooms, two baths and two
closet doors. We found nothing in the guest johns or closets. A lack of
personal property in three of the bedrooms led me to believe they were set also
aside for guests. We looked further in the master suite and discovered two
closets holding clothing for two different people.
“I guess the two guys slept
t’gether,” Joey said.
“Yep.”
“Strange, huh?”
“Not strange, just a minority.”
“Uh-huh.”
Two car doors slammed out front.
“Let’s see who’s here,” I
suggested.
Jackie Shuman and David Sparks,
crime scene investigators from the Blount County Sheriff’s Office, had arrived
and stood in the foyer holding cameras and forensic kits. Moments later, Deputy
Medical Examiner Morris Rappaport and his assistant Earl Ogle pulled up in the
morgue wagon.
“How’d ya find these two?” Jackie
asked of no one in particular.
“I’s checkin’ the neighborhood for
a missin’ child,” Joey said. “Got no answer here, but there was two cars in the
driveway and the garage was closed. Figgered someone’s home, so I walked ‘round
back and seen them layin’ here on the floor.”
“Nice wheels out there,” David said.
“Audi S7 and an F-Type Jag,” I
said. “Pushing a hundred grand apiece.”
“And they’re relatively new,
right?” Morris asked.
“The Jag’s new, and the Audi’s not
far behind.”
“With these two sporty drivers, why
do you suppose there’s an oil spot on the concrete driveway?”
“Good question, Mo,” I said.
“Something for our ace evidence technicians to explore.”
“We’ll git’er done,” Jackie said.
“And take pictures of this table
top. Someone ruined a nice antique.”
Jackie looked closer at the numbers
someone crudely scratched into the mellow wood finish.
“Thirteen thirteen,” he said.
“Wonder what that means?”
“Two unlucky numbers,” Morris said.
“Two unlucky guys,” I said. “Has to
mean something. Finding out will keep me from playing in the traffic.”
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About The Author
Wayne Zurl grew up on Long Island and retired after twenty years with the Suffolk County Police Department, one of the largest municipal law enforcement agencies in New York and the nation. For thirteen of those years he served as a section commander supervising investigators. He is a graduate of SUNY, Empire State College and served on active duty in the US Army during the Vietnam War and later in the reserves. Zurl left New York to live in the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains of Tennessee with his wife, Barbara.
Twenty (20) of his Sam Jenkins msyteries have been published as eBooks and many produced as audio books.Zurl has won Eric Hoffer and Indie Book Awards, and was named a finalist for a Montaigne Medal and First Horizon Book Award. His full-length novels are: A NEW PROSPECT, A LEPRECHAUN’S LAMENT, HEROES & LOVERS, and PIGEON RIVER BLUES.
The all new FROM NEW YORK TO THE SMOKIES, an anthology of five Sam Jenkins mysteries is available in print and eBook, published by Melange Books, LLC.
For more information on Wayne’s
Sam Jenkins mystery series see
www.waynezurlbooks.net. You may read excerpts, reviews and endorsements, interviews, coming events, and see photos of the area where the stories take place.
Connect with Wayne Zurl:
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