Excerpt from “A Splash of Scarlet” – Part 4

Did you know that there’s an entire mystery series set in a fictional version of Tipp City? It’s the Frank Harper mystery series, set in the fictional town of Cooper’s Mill. The books feature weather beaten ex-cop Frank Harper and a fictional Tipp City Police Department. There are five books in the series, and the sixth is coming out soon! Pre-order “A Splash of Scarlet” today by visiting www.gregenslen.com or use the QR Code. Please enjoy an excerpt from the upcoming novel, courtesy of the Gazette! More to come next week…

Chapter 1 – Gary (continued)

“Is that so?” He looked around. “Looks like your little army is out of commission.”

“No, man. No.” Trey’s hand felt like it was on fire.

 “Your guys are all hurt. The big one pretty bad if you don’t stop that bleeding. And I could end you, right now. All of you. You still think you’re in charge?”

“Yeah, man. Last Boys run this part of town. You’re dead, man. Dead.”

The old guy leaned into the light and Trey finally got a good look at him. Old, white, beard. The dude was smiling.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said. “Tell your Last Boys or Lost Boys or whatever to stay out of this area for a while. In fact, stay clear of the hotels. All of them. Tell your gang of idiots to leave them alone for the next six months. Find another source of income.”

Trey didn’t say anything. The old man looked away, his eyes drawn by movement, and Trey turned to look. There was a man approaching, jogging over from the nearby hotel parking lot. The old man lowered the gun, hiding the long barrel behind his leg, until the man got close. As Trey watched, the old man apparently recognized the approaching figure.

“Joe, that you?” the figure said. “You okay?”

The old man lifted his gun so the approaching man could see it. “Never better.”

The other man walked up and stood next to him, looking down at Trey. “Trouble?”

“Nah,” the old guy named Joe said. He popped out the magazine from his weird gun and reloaded it with a spare magazine from his pocket. “Some punks, trying out the tourists.”

“Looks like they lost,” the man said.

“At least I finally got some target practice,” Joe said with a smile. “Been a while since I made it to the range.”

The new guy bent and picked up Trey’s gun from the dirt and handed it to Joe, who looked it over.

“You like guns, kid?” Joe asked.

Trey looked up at him, his mind racing. “What?”

“‘What ain’t no country I ever heard of’,” Joe said with a smile.

“Good one, Joe,” the other man said, smiling. “Or should I call you ‘Jules?’”

The old man’s eyes sparkled. Trey had no idea what was even happening. He was hurt, his boys were all down, and these guys were making jokes?

Joe looked down at Trey.

“I love guns. Always have,” he said. “They say a lot about the person carrying them. Take your gun, Trey. Colt .22, six shot revolver, poorly maintained.” He popped it open, eyed the bullets and chambers, then flipped it to spin the barrel. “Rusty handle. Jacketed ammo, steel tips, minimal rifling. Cheap bullets for a cheap hoodlum,” the man named Joe said as he waved Trey’s gun at him. “Right? You ever clean it?”

Trey didn’t answer.

“You ever oil it? You even know how to oil it? Anyone ever show you how to maintain it? These Last Boys folks, they give you this, or you take it off someone else?”

Trey didn’t know what to say.

The old man shook his head and pocketed Trey’s gun. Then he stepped closer and knelt down.

“Joe, we gotta go,” the other guy said.

“In a sec,” he said, then looked at Trey. “You gotta know your weapon, son.” He held up his gun. It had a long, skinny barrel unlike anything Trey had ever seen. “Now see, in an urban environment, you need to be carrying something like this.”

The old man turned the gun for Trey to admire. “You want a gun like this, okay,” he said. “It’s a Ruger Mark II, with integrated suppression. Heard of it?”

Trey shook his head, starting to feel cold. His hand was throbbing, and he was having trouble focusing on the old man and what he was saying.

“Come on, they’ve been making these guns since 1949,” the old man said, turning the gun in the light. “Ruger Mark II? See the long skinny barrel? It’s a built-in suppressor. Quiet. Not as quiet as a real suppressor, of course, but those things are huge. Like a Pringles can, really. Too big to lug around in your pocket when you’re out shopping for groceries. And, with a real suppressor, you have to rifle the barrel and the suppressor and make sure they fit together really tight. You understand?”

“Yeah,” Trey said quietly.

“This one is integrated into the barrel. Course it uses .22LR ammo, which is hard to come by, lately. Seems there’s been a run on that caliber. Long rifle rounds. But it’s worth it—the report is very quiet. Did you notice that?”

“What? Nah, man,” Trey said. “Pi** off.”

The old man stood and lifted his gun and shot Trey in the leg.

He jumped, half from the shock of the old man’s sudden ferocity and half from the instant pain that flared through his body. He reached for his leg as fire roared through it, dripping like lava.

More to come next week. "A Splash of Scarlet" is the sixth book in the Frank Harper Mysteries series. Frank's got a lot of problems, but he's also tenacious and headstrong and good at solving crimes. Just don't bring up Hurricane Katrina around him or hide his bourbon. Pre-order “A Splash of Scarlet” today by visiting www.gregenslen.com or use the QR Code.