The Cleanest Kill Read online

  Cop vs. Killer

  Detective Jack Murphy never met a cold case he couldn’t crack. This one’s been on ice for 37 years. The prime suspect in a decades-old unsolved murder is about to be named Evansville’s next Chief of Police. The Mayor wants the top cop’s name cleared—and that’s why Murphy and his partner, Liddell Blanchard, are ordered to re-open the investigation. But when the victim’s sister and mother are targeted for violence, troubling new questions arise. Is this the work of the same killer, or is someone else playing a deadly game? The answers lie buried in the past. But no one digs through the dirt like Jack Murphy . . .

  Highest Praise for Rick Reed’s Thrillers

  THE DEEPEST WOUND

  “Reed gives the reader a genre story worth every minute and every penny spent.”

  —Book Reporter

  “Whew! The murders are brutal and nonstop. Det. Jack Murphy tracks killers through a political maze of lies, deception and dishonor that leads to a violent, pulse-pounding climax.”

  —Robert S. Levinson

  “The things Reed has seen as a police officer make for a great book.”

  —Suspense Magazine

  THE COLDEST FEAR

  “Everything you want in a thriller: strong characters, plenty of gory story, witty dialogue, and a narrative that demands you keep turning those pages.”

  —BookReporter.com

  THE CRUELEST CUT

  “Rick Reed, retired homicide detective and author of Blood Trail, the true-crime story of serial killer Joe Brown, brings his impressive writing skills to the world of fiction with The Cruelest Cut. This is as authentic and scary as crime thrillers get, written as only a cop can write who’s lived this drama in real life… A very good and fast read.”

  —Nelson DeMille

  “Put this one on your must-read list. The Cruelest Cut is a can’t-put-down adventure. All the components of a crackerjack thriller are here, and author Reed knows how to use them. Readers will definitely want to see more of Reed’s character Jack Murphy.”

  —John Lutz

  “A jaw-dropping thriller that dares you to turn the page.”

  —Gregg Olsen

  “A tornado of drama—you won’t stop spinning till you’ve been spit out the other end. Rick Reed knows the dark side as only a real-life cop can, and his writing crackles with authenticity.”

  —Shane Gericke

  “A winner of a debut novel… Reed is a master of describing graphic violence. Some of the crime scenes here will chill you to the bone.”

  —Bookreporter.com

  Also by Rick Reed

  The Jack Murphy Thrillers

  The Cruelest Cut

  The Coldest Fear

  The Deepest Wound

  The Highest Stakes

  The Darkest Night

  The Slowest Death

  The Deadliest Sins

  Nonfiction

  Blood Trail (with Steven Walker)

  The Cleanest Kill

  A Jack Murphy Thriller

  Rick Reed

  LYRICAL UNDERGROUND

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  Copyright

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  LYRICAL UNDERGROUND BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2019 by Rick Reed

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  All Kensington titles, imprints, and distributed lines are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotion, premiums, fund-raising, educational, or institutional use.

  Special book excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington Sales Manager: Kensington Publishing Corp., 119 West 40th Street, New York, NY 10018. Attn. Sales Department. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.

  Lyrical Underground and Lyrical Underground logo Reg. US Pat. & TM Off.

  First Electronic Edition: June 2019

  ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0458-1 (ebook)

  ISBN-10: 1-5161-0458-7 (ebook)

  First Print Edition: June 2019

  ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0459-8

  ISBN-10: 1-5161-0459-5

  Printed in the United States of America

  Contents

  Highest Praise for Rick Reed’s Thrillers

  Also by Rick Reed

  The Cleanest Kill

  Copyright

  Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  EPILOGUE

  Sneak Peek

  Chapter 1

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Dedication

  This novel is dedicated to Amy Hollen, a good friend and my inspiration for this story. I hope you enjoy the story, Amy.

  Chapter 1

  Thirty-seven years ago

  It was two days before Thanksgiving and the championship game. Maximillian Alexander Day, varsity wide receiver for the Rex Mundi Monarchs, stood behind the bleachers before practice. This weekend would be the playoff game against their rival, the Central Bears. While the rest of the team was in the locker room, checking equipment, gearing up, grunting and yelling inane slogans, he stood at the mouth of the tunnel, wearing his varsity jacket, well-worn blue jeans, and Western boots. The cheerleaders had taken the field. Practice could wait.

  Max watched Ginger lead a cheer and his little Max was cheering right along with her. Ginger was the head cheerleader; Dick was the captain and quarterback of the team. Because of that, Dick thought Ginger was his property. Max hoped he got to
play defense in tonight’s practice, so he could knock that idea right out of Dick’s head. He’d been warned by the coach a couple of times for using excessive force to sack his own quarterback, but it was funny. Dick never saw it coming. Truth was, Max didn’t care who he creamed on the field. He didn’t even care for sports. He just liked hitting people—hard—and he liked the varsity letter jacket. It was a chick magnet.

  He was still dating two other girls but the girl he currently had his eye on was Ginger Purdie. Her copper-colored ringlets bounced around her shoulders and swept across perfect breasts as she led the cheers, urging them to victory. Max felt an urge too.

  Part of his interest in her was that she would undoubtedly be queen of the prom. No surprise there. She was the prettiest girl in school. And of course, the king of the prom would be the quarterback of the varsity team: her longtime boyfriend, Richard Dick, aka Greased Lightning. Max was determined to change the buffoon’s name to Greased Monkey because Ginger would slip right through the quarterback’s hands and be picked off by defensive cornerback Mad Max.

  The cheers ended. There was clapping and shouts and hoots from the bleachers above. Max stepped forward in time to watch Ginger bounce and jiggle and whip her curls around until she spotted him. She smiled at him and scurried off the field with every blue-blooded male’s eyes following her, but she only flirted with Max. She ran to the sidelines and became part of the usual team enthusiasts. Max waited for her to turn around so he could motion her over. He would chat a few minutes and then change out for practice. When she saw him cut through Dick’s offense like a knife through butter, she would see who the real man was.

  The tunnel leading from the locker room to the field was right behind him, but Max wasn’t worried about Greased Lightning. In fact, he hoped the arrogant asshole was watching Ginger as she brazenly flirted with him. He waved his arms over his head and Ginger turned. She stopped bouncing, her smile faded, and she pointed one of her pom-poms toward him. Max smiled and was motioning to her when something hard struck him in the back of the head. He fell to the ground, but he cushioned his fall with his hands and arms. He’d taken harder hits both on and off the field.

  Max pushed himself up to his knees and saw Richard “Greased Lightning” Dick looming over him, helmet in one hand, the other hand bunched into a fist.

  Dick was tall with blond hair combed into bangs down into his blue eyes, patrician features, perfect teeth, and always dressed preppy, not even wanting to soil his uniform. For a quarterback, he appeared less strong and solidly built than he did stringy and rangy. He had earned the name Greased Lightning because of his uncanny ability to hit the receiver with every pass while slipping through any defense. Max had watched him throw the ball away to avoid being tackled. And he never tried to run the ball. That made him a coward in Max’s thinking.

  “Better stay down, Max-e-pad,” Dick said. “You and your sister have some lame ass names. Your mom must’ve been on drugs.”

  Carl Needham piped in. “Have you seen his mom? I wouldn’t let my dog do her. She’s a sow.”

  Carl and his pal Dennis hurled more insults, one grunting like a pig, the other repeatedly making motions like he was rooting in the mud. Needham hawked up a glob of snot and spat it on the ground beside Max.

  You had your chance, Dick. Now it’s my turn.

  Max got to his feet, brushed some grit from the sleeves of his letter jacket, smiled, and deftly broke Dick’s nose.

  Only Dennis James made a move forward, but was halted by a shake of Max’s head.

  “Dennis, you’re such a numbnuts. If you talk about my mother again I’ll tear your head off and shit down your neck.”

  Max walked away without a challenge while Dick was bent over, hands covering his nose, blood running between his fingers and down the front of his red football jersey. A small crowd had gathered around, pretending sympathy and shock, while some in the crowd mocked Dick and danced around, hands over their own noses.

  Max knew he’d be kicked off the team for punching Dick out and wouldn’t be played in the championships. Hell, he’d be lucky if he wasn’t kicked out of school. If that happened, his parents would ground him for the rest of the year and take away his one pleasure, his Camaro.

  He was nearing the edge of the parking lot when he felt a strong hand grip his shoulder, pulling him around. He spun around and kicked Dick in the crotch. Dick fell to the ground. Squeaks like air leaking from a balloon came out of his mouth. Carl and Dennis stood with their mouths hanging open like dutiful minions and Dennis’s hands went to his own genitals. Max stared at each of them, daring them to step up. They didn’t move.

  Max headed for his car. He would at least have one last night of freedom, knowing he’d be grounded for a month. He made it to his car, put his key in, and mimicked a sports commentator. “Oh my! The quarterback has been sacked! The quarterback is down, folks. Dick’s dick and his nose are broken. The game is over. Score: Max, one; Greased Monkey, zero.”

  He unlocked the car and a hand grabbed his wrist. He instinctively ducked, turned, arm cocked, ready to trade punches when he recognized his sister.

  “Are you going to hit me too?” Reina asked.

  “Let go,” he said and removed her hand.

  “You can’t leave, dummy,” Reina said.

  “Come on, sis. I’m going for a little ride to cool off. I’ll give you a lift home.”

  Reina’s arms crossed her chest. “You’re going to be in big trouble. Mom and Dad are gonna kill you, Max. Why do you always do this?”

  “Do what?” He sounded hurt. “You mean defend myself? Should I let him knock me down and make fun of me? Let them insult Mom? He had it coming and you know it.”

  “And you know what I mean, Maximillian Day,” Reina said. She was seriously pissed. “You go back and talk to the coach. Maybe you won’t be kicked off the team or out of school if you—”

  Ginger Purdie interrupted her and caressed Max’s face and shoved her ample breasts against him. “Are you okay, Max? Did he hurt you?”

  Max grinned at her, keeping a cautious eye on Reina. “I’m not hurt, but thanks for asking. You’d better get back. The team needs you.”

  Pouting, Ginger said, “Don’t you need me?”

  Max laughed. “Of course. I’m fine. The team needs your particular talents to give them encouragement, babe. And I think Dick needs some TLC.” He gave her a firm slap on the rear.

  She giggled and bounced away, breasts jiggling, butt swaying, and all legs.

  Reina said, “You’d better stay away from that one, Max. Mom won’t approve and you’re already going to be grounded for the rest of your life.”

  “Grounded works only if you get caught, Reina.”

  “Uh-oh!” She pointed across the parking lot, where Dick, Needham, and James were jogging toward them. Two or three other football players had joined them. “You can’t fight all of them, Max. Get out of here.” She moved off toward the approaching boys. “I’ll slow them down,” she said. “As usual.”

  “Thanks, sis,” Max said, got in his car, fired up the Hemi engine, and threw a rooster tail of gravel and dirt behind as he accelerated out of the lot.

  Max took back streets to Kratzville Road where he stopped, debating where he would go. Home was northwest. He could take Kleitz Road, but he didn’t want to go home. He decided to go downtown, to the riverfront. He could sit in his car, watch the water, calm his mind, consider what he would do with all of his free time now.

  His thoughts turned to Ginger. She was pretty, but he didn’t really care for her. She was just a way to get at Dick and the rest of the “popular” kids. Snobs, every one. And he truly hated that smug asshole, Richard Dick. Punching him in the nose was worth missing the championship. Kicking him in the balls was priceless. He only wished Needham had stood up for his best buddy. Needham was smart not to go another round.

 
Max turned south on Kratzville Road. The back of his head was smarting and his fingers found a painful knot where the helmet had hit him. It hurt, but he smiled at the memory of Dick’s nose exploding under his fist and the gurgling, wheezing sound after getting his crotch adjusted with a foot. “Bet you didn’t expect that, Dick?”

  He slowed for a red light approaching Gloria’s Corral Club at Allens Lane. The normally bustling crowd was elsewhere on Sunday nights. It was dark-thirty and the streets were deserted.

  He considered running the red light, but with his luck tonight, a cop would be sitting in the parking lot of the convenience store across the street, hankering to make his quota.

  Headlights flashed in his rearview mirror. He recognized Dick’s black Cadillac coming up fast. He let the car come up beside him in the right-turn lane and saw Dick at the wheel, nose still bleeding. Needham was in the passenger seat, leaning across Dick, giving him the bird while Dick laid on the horn. Dennis James was hanging out of the back-passenger window, hurling insults and threats, yelling for him to get out of the car.

  Max ran the light, cut a sharp right across the front of Dick’s Cadillac, and narrowly missed the left-quarter panel as he blew past and sped down Allens Lane. The Cadillac peeled out and made a sharp right to pursue. But the Caddy was a boat compared to the Camaro and swayed side to side before gaining purchase of the road. Dick stamped on the gas. The Caddy was fast, but it was no match for the Camaro.

  Max slowed for the double railroad tracks, the double-dipper, and let the Caddy kiss his rear bumper before he braked hard and swerved left into the oncoming lane. His tires smoked as he skidded forward, coming to rest just before the first set of rails. The Caddy locked the brakes up and whizzed past just as he’d planned. He could see Dick’s shocked expression before the Caddy went airborne over the first set of tracks, bottomed out on the lower set of railroad tracks, and went airborne a second time. Some of his classmates had gotten drunk one night and discovered the dangerous railroad crossing the hard way. Max had counted on Dick forgetting in the heat of the chase.

  He watched the Caddy fly through the air, all four tires off the ground, bottom out a second time when it hit the asphalt. Sparks of hot metal shot from beneath the Caddy as it flattened out and slewed side to side before the right-side wheels dropped off the side of the road. Dick overcorrected and pulled sharply to the left. The Cadillac’s right tires jumped the asphalt, throwing the car into a sideways slide and into a shallow ditch on the left side of the road.