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    Case of the Howling Husky
    Case of the Howling Husky
    Case of the Howling Husky
    Ebook119 pages1 hour

    Case of the Howling Husky

    By Esther Luttrell, Ian Hall, Dennis Smirl and

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    About this ebook

    Mystery writer Esther Luttrell has assembled a treasury of suspense fiction. Scottish novelist Ian Hall presents the lead story, Case of the Howling Husky, a brilliant tale of international intrigue set at a ballet performed for the world elite, inside an Antarctic Ice Station. Mike Graves weaves plots-with-a-twist in The Leaves Never Lie and in his short, short story Nighty Night. Vicki Julian pens a relationship tale of Double Deception, while acclaimed sci-fi writer Dennis Smirl conquers a new genre for himself with Murder at the Liberty Ballroom. Esther has added her own short-short, A Stranger in the House, a frightening story of deceit and deception from the one most trusted. Mystery buffs will delight in the thrilling stories spun by 5 first-rate suspense writers. "What a fun book! With different stories written by different authors, it gives the reader a true variety in the mystery genre. Nothing was too scary to read before bedtime, and each story was the perfect length to read whenever a free moment presented itself." V. Juleson, 5-star Amazon review. 

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherEsther Luttrell
    Release dateFeb 26, 2019
    ISBN9781386473749
    Case of the Howling Husky
    Author

    Esther Luttrell

    Esther Luttrell began her career writing educational films for Ivy League college psychology departments. She later participated in a PhD grant at the UMKC-Columbia as campus filmmaker. When the grant ended, she moved to the west coast where she became executive assistant to the VP of MGM-TV. She also wrote and produced television programs and feature films. A move to Topeka, Kansas in 2003 began a new career as the writer of mystery novels. However, it was her spiritual journey following the death of her son that inspired her to write "Between Heaven & Earth, Proof Beyond Doubt that Life and Love are Eternal". Her latest book of inspiration, "Evidence of God", is intended for those who feels their prayers have gone unanswered or are on the verge of losing faith. She lives in Topeka, Kansas with way too many cats.

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      Book preview

      Case of the Howling Husky - Esther Luttrell

      2

      In ballet or dance, we watch entranced

      And remember the art of Nijinsky,

      But memories fade as the morgue fills high

      In the Case of the Howling Husky

      ––––––––

      The girl behind the stage was in a bad way. Despite her considerable wounds, she clutched at the man who raised her head from the snow. Blood covered her pale blue dancing outfit. Splashes and smears that lay on the snow around her looked almost black in contrast. The man trying to soothe her spoke Russian, but I could see death approaching. The girl’s stomach wound was open and nasty.

      I don’t think she lived fifteen seconds after I arrived. There was nothing I could do. Nothing any of us could do.

      What happened? I asked the Russian, wondering if there was a connection between them.

      Another man ran toward us from across the snow, a rifle in his hand. Bear, he huffed, out of breath from the run. Big one.

      I believed him. The victim’s stomach was virtually ripped open.

      By now a crowd had begun to gather. I pushed them away, looking at the trampled snow for bear tracks. Stand back! I shouted to the gathering crowd. You’re contaminating the crime scene! But, of course, the language barrier stymied my words, and the number of onlookers continued to grow.

      Did you see what happened? I asked the man with the rifle.

      He nodded. Big bear, he repeated, his face white. He just flipped her then gored her.

      Any idea who she is?

      The man shook his head.

      Name? I asked the Russian who still cradled her. "Namen? Wie heissen sie?"

      He lifted his head. I could see the pain he felt. She Natalie Ravchencho, big star.

      Crap, that was all we needed. A trip to the edge of the world to see a show on an iceberg, and the star is killed by a bear almost the minute we land.

      The event big-wigs began arriving as I cleared away the tourists, the friends, the dancers. To be truthful, when the ice station director, Andersen, pushed me to one side, I didn’t complain. It had turned into a busman’s holiday. I was thinking that if I kept my mouth shut, maybe I wouldn’t have to get involved.

      Andersen took charge and I went on, with Barbara and the Grubers, to the movie—yes, they still showed the film, and on time, too. About a third of the way through it, someone stopped the video, and a messenger walked down the aisle, calling for me by name.

      Can’t someone else do it? I asked, following him to the administration hut.

      Sorry. His shoulders shrugged inside his oversize parka. You’re in charge now. Andersen and Hamman said you’re the only cop within three thousand miles.

      I ended up sitting opposite Andersen at his desk. There are too many groups here, Anderson said, obviously rattled and trying not to show it. Too many factions.  I don’t know where to begin. He sighed, rather dramatically, I thought. We need you, Inspector Robertson.

      Some damn holiday. I don’t do bears. My head flooded with images of what I did do: child molesters, drug lords, gang bangers, serial killers, wife beaters. Killer bears were not among them.

      Andersen’s face froze, and I knew I was going to get hit by more detail. This is the second attack. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Three days ago, just before the first guests arrived, Lyudmila Terannkova died the same way.

      Lyudmila Terannkova?

      The star of the show.

      I mulled that over and said at last, A bear?

      Andersen nodded.

      Where is Terannkova’s body?

      Sent south on the plane you arrived in.

      Then you’ve got people coming up to investigate, yes? I knew there was too much hope in my voice, but I couldn’t seem to control myself.

      Nope. Flights have been canceled. Bad weather moved in behind you. He shuffled a raft of papers over to me. You’re in charge, like it or not.

      Surely they could get something through.  Hope dies hard.

      Nothing. No prop planes, nothing.

      I glanced at the photo and resume in front of me. The pretty face of the dead girl I saw earlier looked back at me.

      Natalie Ravchencho, 34, Russian, married.

      I read the list of companies she’d worked for, the people she was closest to. Andersen was alluding to something beyond the obvious. His tone said murder, but it made no sense. The guy on the scene with the rifle stated that she was killed by a bear.

      It turns out he didn’t actually see it.

      He fired at the thing! I could feel my temper growing. I heard the shots.

      Andersen shook his head, rising to walk to the door. Fred? he called into the corridor. Can you give us a minute?

      Fred, the rifleman, was about as much use as a wooden toy soldier. He admitted he hadn’t seen anything. He’d fired into the air when he heard the scream, then ran off into the snow, following what he thought were footprints. Notice I didn’t say paw prints.

      You never saw the bear? I said to Fred.

      He shook his head. No.

      And the footprints?

      He shrugged. I couldn’t tell for sure.

      I go for the bear theory. I was trying not to look or sound as disgusted as I was feeling. When Fred failed to reply, I shrugged, grumbled a curse under my breath and dismissed him with a flick of my fingers. I watched Fred leave, but remained seated. So, I said to Andersen, "if you’ve got two dead women who appear to have been mauled by a bear, why bother

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