Half Past Murder

Introduction

I cling to the hope that one day Norah O'Donnell of the CBS Morning Show, will read Half Past Murder and ask for an interview. Certainly one of her first questions must be, Who is Mickey Brennan, and where did he come from?

For those that might miss that interview when it happens, I offer this recap.

**

Mickey Brennan, is largely a result of bits and pieces of detective novels, movies, and television shows I've enjoyed over the years. Countless hours spent reading and watching Dashiell Hammitt's Sam Spade, Mickey Spillane's Mike Hammer, and Robert Parker's Spenser, along with my favorite television private detectives, James Rockford, and Harry O, have helped form Mickey's basic character.

If water boarded, I would probably have to confess my own mindset and Marine Corps background slipped in there somewhere during the the creation of Mickey Brennan.

Mickey is a man toughened by war and life itself, yet he retains a soft spot for the helpless and the victims of the powerful. Women seem to find him attractive, but long term romance has thus far, managed to slip through his fingers. Mickey Brennan is a man of integrity, whose word is stronger than any contract. He is also a man willing to cross the line of legality, if the system is unable to protect the defenseless or bring violent criminals to justice.

If you are a first time reader of a Mickey Brennan novel, I hope you will find it an enjoyable experience.

Thank you,

Mike Poppe

Prologue

When Lane Tanner woke up at five in the morning, his wife Crystal was not in their bed. His day was only two seconds old, and already, he felt defeated. Despite Lane's best efforts to help, Crystal was tormented by a memory and the fear that went with it. She functioned relatively well during the day, but Crystal's nights had evolved into a private hell.

After crawling out of bed and slipping on his jeans, he found her in the kitchen. Crystal was sitting at the kitchen table with the shotgun across her legs. He slipped his arms around her easily, so as not to add to her fears. Lane held her in a relaxed semi-hug for several minutes before speaking.

The dream again?

When she whispered, Yes, he tightened his hug and said, Crystal, remember what Doctor Hale said?

She kissed his hand, and said, I remember. How could I not remember? He keeps saying that with time, the dreams will go away entirely.

Exactly, he replied. Keep hanging on to that goal.

Suddenly, she slammed her fist down on the table.

Well, if the son of a bitch knows so damn much, why is it, my dreams are coming almost every night now? I don't think that quack knows his ass from a hole in the ground, and I'm not going back there. I'm sick of this! Crystal turned and gently kissed Lane's lips. More than anything else, I hate what I'm doing to you. What I'm doing to us. You've been incredibly patient, but how much longer can I expect you to put up with this?

Lane kissed her forehead, and whispered into her ear. As long as it takes. Crystal, I can't begin to imagine what it's like for you, but we're going to find an answer. If you don't want to use Doctor Hale anymore, then we will find another, and another until we find a doctor who will help you get past this.

She broke open the double barrel shotgun, removed the shells, and set them on the table standing upright. Crystal handed the shotgun to Lane, kissed him, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

I hope you are right honey. I'm exhausted, physically and mentally. Her arms dropped limp at her side. Looking at her husband, Crystal said, It's gone. I think that's what drives me crazy. One minute I'm fine, the next, I'm being terrorized by the past. It comes and goes, and I'm powerless to do anything about it.

Sliding her chair back, she stood and hugged Lane for a full minute, before stepping back and forcing a smile to her face.

Now, my dear husband, I suppose you'll be wanting some breakfast. Go get your shower, and I'll be about my business.

**

As Lane backed out of the drive way, Crystal was once again regretting having given up her job as Lane's secretary. At the time, Lane worried that their being together at work and at home, might prove to be an overload. So, they agreed that she would stay home for a while and see how that worked out. Although she hadn't complained, Crystal missed being a part of Lane's work. She missed knowing all the things he was dealing with, missed being an important part of his daily work. Still, it had been her decision to try the change for a year. Whether to return to the office at the end of that time, would again be her choice to make.

When Lane waved as he stopped in the street for a split second before taking off, she smiled and waved back. When his Impala made the left turn at the corner, she closed the front door, and locked both locks.

Even after eating breakfast, Crystal was still a little nervous. It really pissed her off that the dream had left her this unsettled. Right then and there, Crystal decided to be good to herself. There was a bed to be made, and laundry to be done. When that was finished, she intended to drive across town, get a massage, get her hair done, and then buy a beautiful dress. If it proved to be expensive, so much the better.

Driven by determination, she headed for the bedroom. Crystal's bed was half made when she heard the rattle of the front door locks. Then she heard the sound of the door opening and closing. This scene had become a fairly regular pattern during their married life. Laughing quietly to herself, Crystal turned and headed toward the living room. As she neared the door, Crystal called out, Well Columbo, what have you forgotten this time?

Unfortunately, this time, the man standing in the living room was not her husband. Even realizing this stranger was in her house uninvited, Crystal found herself more curious than afraid. Working as Lane's secretary, she had met a lot of different people. Could this be one of them? No, she was sure she had never seen him before today. Then, she focused on his eyes. Suddenly, she found herself unable to breathe. An ice cold wave of fear washed over her. Crystal began trembling as she realized that this time, it was not a dream. He really had found her again.

His smile appeared warm, friendly, and non threatening.

It's so good to see you again Kris.

Those words snapped Crystal out of her fear induced state of paralysis.

She screamed, You sick bastard! I'm not Kris Renee! Remembering the shotgun in the kitchen, she tried to rush past her attacker before he could react. The stranger drove his fist hard into her stomach. Crystal fell to her knees as she fought desperately to breathe.

Two minutes later, she was gagged and handcuffed. Three minutes passed while he was in the kitchen. The stranger returned and carried Crystal out the front door, then dropped her on the floorboard of the Dodge van.

By the time Shakespeare backed the stolen van out of the driveway, and started down the street, the fire he started in the kitchen, was already consuming the Tanner house.

Lost and Found

It was cold in Cody, Wyoming. Painfully cold. Forget the chill factor. The outside temperature read a brutal fifteen below zero. For almost two hours, the two men watched the large warehouse and storage building from inside the cab of a ten year old GMC pick up truck.

The Big Elk used car dealership closed at nine o'clock every night. By the time they parked the truck on the car dealership's lot at ten fifteen, all the employees were gone. Despite the bone chilling cold, the two men decided they must shut down the engine. The exhaust from the engine would have been a dead give away that the truck was occupied.

The man sitting on the passenger side of the truck was Spencer Blackfeather, Chief of Police in Estes Park, Colorado. Tonight, he was on a leave of absence from his job, and acting as a civilian. With his eyes still glued to the building, he finally spoke aloud the question that had been bothering him.

Lane, you sure you don't want to bring the cops in on this? That building has a lot of exits, and the two of us can't cover them all.

The man to whom he directed the question sat behind the steering wheel of the truck. His name was Lane Tanner, and his chosen occupation was private investigator. Lane and Spencer Blackfeather had been best friends for a long time. With as much certainty as anyone could have, they remained convinced the woman being held prisoner inside that building was Crystal Tanner, Lane's wife.

Ninety three days ago, Crystal had been kidnapped for the second time in her still young life. There had not been any ransom demands. Only one sheet of paper with a small silhouette printed on the right top corner had been delivered in the mail. That was all Lane needed to confirm his suspicion that the kidnapper was the man from Crystal's nightmares. He was a professional killer, perhaps the best in his profession. He was also a demented man, carrying around a twisted sense of reality about Crystal Tanner's identity.

No, Lane said in answer to Spencer's question. The local police force is not trained for this sort of operation. There would be too much noise, and he would be on to us. As soon as he realizes we've found him, he will kill her. Not a doubt in my mind about that. That sick bastard is not going to allow her be rescued again.

A few more minutes passed. Lane said, Hey look. You're probably right. The two of us are not enough to cover all the exits, but we can't wait another day for qualified help to assemble. Maybe you should just wait here in the truck. That way, if he slips out while I'm going in, you can follow him.

Angered that his best friend was trying to give him the easy way out, Spencer turned his head and started to give Lane Tanner a piece of his mind. Instead, he started laughing.

Oh go to hell Tanner. You know damn good and well I'm not going to let you go in there by yourself and screw this thing up. I don't much give a damn about you, but that woman in there is worth saving. Lord knows she's better than you deserve.

Well, you're right about that for sure, Lane admitted. Look, to avoid all the cameras I've seen, it's going to take awhile to work our way around, so we might as well get started. If we get any colder, we'll be too stiff to move.

**

Handcuffed to the bed, Crystal Tanner summoned her wall of mental resistance as her captor sat down on the bed. He kissed her eyes, her nose, and finally, her lips. Whispering words of endearment, his hands explored her body, as his lips pressed harder bruising Crystal's lips. Crystal wanted to throw up, but if she did, it might well be her death sentence. He didn't react well if she didn't pretend to enjoy it. A single word had sustained Crystal through her term in hell. That word, she was now forcing to the front of her mind. The word was simply, SURVIVAL.

There was no way to predict what his mood would be on any given day. On some occasions, the man seemed almost loving and tender, even if it was a result of a twisted obsession. At other times, his behavior was arrogant, controlling, and even vicious. Tonight, before his sudden spell of tenderness, her captor turned sadistic. After receiving a brutal beating, she believed that this time, he truly meant to follow through on his threat to kill her. When he put the pistol to her head and pulled the trigger, the sound of the hammer falling on an empty chamber, robbed her of her last remnant of courage. Every human being has their limit, and Crystal had been driven well beyond hers.

Wrapped in Shakespeare's arms again, Crystal began crying with such a depth of emotion that much to her surprise, his mood changed. In the blink of an eye, her attacker was once again in love with her, consumed with the desire to shower her with love and tenderness.

Later, when she woke up after a nap, her gag was back in place. He was sitting at the table with his eyes focused on his laptop screen. During the time she had been his captive, Crystal learned one of the functions of that laptop was to check all the security cameras around the building.

Shakespeare began laughing. At first it was a quiet laugh, then it grew progressively louder. He said, The heroes are coming to rescue their fair maiden. Aren't you happy dear Kris?

Ignoring the fact that he insisted on confusing her with the dead woman he loved, her heart pounded against her chest. Could it be true? Had Lane found her?

Don't get your hopes up sweetheart. the man warned, with his face still glued to the laptop screen. Then, he turned the laptop so she might see the screen. Crystal lay stunned, and almost unable to breathe. Lane and Spencer Blackfeather were working their way to this building from opposite directions.

She tried to scream a warning through the gag. But soon gave it up as a hopeless waste of energy. Looking to her right, Crystal eyed the lamp on the nightstand by the edge of the bed. She would wait until they were ready to crash through the door, then she would make her move. Even though she remained tied up, Crystal believed she could swing her legs enough to push the lamp off the night stand. The sound of the lamp crashing to the floor should warn the boys in time.

Her eyes glued to the laptop screen, Crystal watched as Lane and Spencer entered the building, and began checking each hallway and room. As Shakespeare moved and clicked the laptop mouse, she saw them stop suddenly, as if they must have heard sounds coming from the opposite hallway. By use of hand signals, the two men silently worked their way down the hallway. Reaching the door of the last room, they inched forward, listening for any human sound. When Crystal watched her captor grin, and click the laptop mouse again, a wave of impending disaster overwhelmed her.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of gunfire from the other wing. With their shotguns at the ready, her husband and Spencer charged the door and forced it open with the force of their shoulders.

Crystal's captor turned and winked at her, then pressed the mouse button again. The room into which Lane and Spencer charged, was violently ripped apart by explosives.

**

Twenty six hours later, a Dodge van drove through the unmanned main entrance gate to Rocky Mountain National Park. Driving carefully to avoid hitting a Deer or Elk, the driver turned left when they reached Bear Lake Road. Several miles later, he made a left onto the road leading to Sprague Lake. That was followed by a right hand turn into the empty parking lot, where he parked the van.

Exiting the van, he slid the side door open, and tossed aside the large rug covering his prisoner. Without saying a word, he threw the naked and handcuffed woman out onto the cold parking lot surface.

As she lay bruised, and shivering, Crystal watched him drive away. She realized and accepted that she would almost certainly be dead from exposure before morning. Crystal stared at the disappearing tail lights with intense hatred. Exhausting her vocabulary of profanity, she condemned the driver to hell for killing Lane and Blackfeather.

The ground and the wind stung her skin with their unbearable cold. As she lay shivering, Crystal prayed that death would claim her before the wolves or coyotes did. She could no longer remember how much time had passed since she had been left to die. All she knew, was that in spite of the frigid temperatures and vicious winter winds, she began to feel warmer. Gradually the pain from her injuries received at the hands of Shakespeare, became numb from the cold.

Crystal realized the fight was over for her. Still, never again would she suffer the horror and humiliation of being in that man's control. Never again would she be forced to purchase her survival at the price of dignity. Never again would she have to pretend that she liked him, or enjoyed the things he did. So, maybe in the end, she really had won after all. Shakespeare could never, ever, touch her again.

Somehow, she managed what she felt was a small smile on her frozen face. A shroud of contentment fell around Crystal. As a solitary tear fell on the concrete, she closed her eyes.

Holly

Mr. Brennan, the larger stack is junk mail. The smaller stack is mail I'm sure you will want to examine. Do you wish to look through the junk mail before I get rid of it?

Looking up at my new secretary, I said, "No Holly, if you don't recognize junk mail when you see it, I've hired the wrong girl. Run it