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    The Wounded Murderer: A Detective Bass Mystery
    The Wounded Murderer: A Detective Bass Mystery
    The Wounded Murderer: A Detective Bass Mystery
    Ebook64 pages52 minutes

    The Wounded Murderer: A Detective Bass Mystery

    By Stephen Randorf

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    About this ebook

    Detective Bass was too kindhearted at times.  An elderly veteran had been murdered.   Detective Bass had the 9mm pistol issued during the Korean War and the female suspect's confession.    The case was about to be wrapped up, and then . . . . it wasn't enough!

    A daughter's revenge?  What were the lies?  What was the truth?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherStephen Randorf
    Release dateOct 1, 2015
    ISBN9781516317721
    The Wounded Murderer: A Detective Bass Mystery
    Author

    Stephen Randorf

    Stephen Randorf grew up in the Midwest region of the U.S.  His education includes history and creative writing.  The Detective Bass Mystery novels and novellas specifically center around Detective Gilbert Bass, a middle-aged, desk-prone police detective who solves the low-profile cases of an urban city.

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      Book preview

      The Wounded Murderer - Stephen Randorf

      THE WOUNDED MURDERER

      by

      Stephen Randorf

      text-align:

      Copyright © 2015 by Stephen Randorf

      Cover Design by Jeanine Henning

      All rights reserved.

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual places, or events now or in the future is coincidental.

      Table of Contents

      Title

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Epilogue

      Also by Stephen Randorf

      Chapter 1

      ———

      Detective Bass received a phone call.

      It was from the front desk downstairs where a woman was waiting for him. Her name was Yvonne Smith. Although the name sounded vaguely familiar, he could not place it. He also knew he had no appointments that morning or new assignments. The latter pleased him.

      Before Bass left his desk, he checked his calendar. It had been three days since his last case, and that one was about to be wrapped up.

      Bass took the elevator down and went through the echoing halls to the front area of the station. The desk clerk, Sergeant Tomé, nodded in the direction of a well-dressed African-American woman sitting awkwardly in a chair. Several shabbily-suited men were sitting next to her.

      I’m Police Detective Gilbert Bass, he said, introducing himself. Yvonne?

      Do you remember me? she asked, standing up quickly. I live over on 10th Street? You were there asking questions about that murder?

      Bass was familiar with the case. It occurred in a vacant lot. It was her he failed to place. I interviewed quite a few people regarding that one.

      Yvonne nervously leaned on one leg, then another, as if the high heels hurt her feet.

      I took an early lunch hour, she said. I don’t have much time.

      Bass motioned in the direction of two unoccupied chairs on the opposite side of the room.

      Yvonne sat in one, bending her legs so her dress wouldn’t pull up.

      Bass sat next to her.

      Something is wrong where I work, she started. I want to hire a detective.

      I’m not that kind of a detective. I’m a police detective.

      Yvonne seemed pensive, nervous, and fidgety.

      Bass continued, If you’re aware of a crime, it should be reported. You can go over to the man at the counter and report it now. His head turned to look at Sergeant Tomé, who was listening to the two poorly-suited men who had now moved to the counter area. They were loud and argumentative. Bass went on with the explanation, The proper police officer will investigate it.

      It’s for a friend. I work at the law firm of Regis and Regis.

      The name struck Bass’s memory. He remembered her now. 10th Street, the woman who was in a hurry to get to work. Her husband had seven unpaid parking tickets on his silver gray Honda. He especially remembered that part.

      Yvonne continued, Something isn’t right.

      Bass doubted this was his kind of case. Maybe someone at the law firm can direct you to a contact in the D.A.’s office. Or if you think it’s that important, you can call or go into your local police district. You’re in the Third District. I think that might be a better place to start than with me.

      But I trust you. Joe said to see you. That you could help me.

      Joe, your husband? Bass wondered if the parking tickets had been paid.

      Yes. Yvonne looked at her watch, a rectangular dial held together by a thin gold band.

      Bass noticed how narrow and delicate her wrists were.

      I’ve got to go, she said suddenly. I’ll be late. Yvonne stood up, gave a half smile to Bass, which he took as a thank you, and then hurriedly walked out. He could hear the click of her heels in spite of the loud conversation Sergeant Tomé was conducting at the counter.

      Bass took the elevator back up to his department. He nodded to the usual morning staff, and then glanced over at MacIntyre’s desk. His partner, Macky, wasn’t in yet.

      Bass took out a green folder from his In/Out box and leaned back in his swivel chair until Macky arrived.

      Want to try again? Bass asked before

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