The Silver Lake Murder by Gregg Matthews (read novel full txt) 📗

Blake is working on the last customer of the day. The hands on the clock have moved slowly throughout the day. He presses on the wad of cash in his front pocket. Some of the older customers still like to pay in cash. The younger customers all pay with credit or debit cards.

He thinks about calling in a couple of more local tattoo artists tomorrow. Rivers Tattoo shop is up and running, making a lot of money. He needs some help.

The muscles in his back, legs, and neck are letting him know the end of the day is close. His eyes are void of any moisture. The last time he looked in one of the many mirrors on the walls, his eyes had red lines racing across the white base. Around the edges of his eyes, there were traces of red also. His eyelids seem to have a weight to them.

The noise of the tattoo needle stops, he wipes the blood and ink off the shoulder of his customer.

“It’s going good. Are you OK?” Blake says.

“Yes, I am good,” the young woman says.

“Great, we are close to the finish.”

The noise of the tattoo needle begins again.

A little while later, he finishes the tattoo and processes the customer.Taking a minute to straighten up the shop after a long day, he does the best he can. He thinks now is a good time to have someone come in and clean the shop. He makes a note.

The sound of the bell ringing over the front door gets his attention. Turning his head, he can see Ray McCrery has walked into the shop calmly. Shifting his focus to make eye contact with Ray. He can see Ray has a toothpick in his mouth. He is wearing tan work boots, jeans and a T-shirt.

He nods his head to Ray, acknowledging he sees him. He flips the sign on the door from Open to Closed.

Pointing to one of the couches in the waiting area for Ray to take a seat. He and Ray sit down at the same time.

“How are you, Ray?”

“I am good, Blake.”

“I know I asked you before, but I have to ask you again. Have you seen any sign of Rose?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, next topic. What do you know about Luke?”

“He is a bad guy. He is bad for the people of Silver Lake. I need to take him out of the picture. I have been trying to lock him up over the last few years, but I can never get enough evidence to charge him with anything tangible.” Ray says, frustrated.

“I have been learning a lot about Luke over the last few days. I think he is responsible for what happened to Cindy Flynn.” Blake says, lowering his head.

“Evidence, my friend.”

“I understand.”

“I have a judge in the city of Lowell that will prosecute him. I have to make sure I arrest him in Lowell. I would do anything to take Luke down,” Ray says.

“I have an idea,” Blake says, standing up showing Ray to the front door.

“Let me know if I can help.” Ray says.

“I will be in touch.”

Leaning into his smartphone and sending texts makes Lester appear at the front of the tattoo shop. He locks the door and steps out of the shop into the night. He is carrying an orange-colored backpack. He and Lester walk down the front of the commercial buildings. There are no lights on in any of the shops. The area is void of any people. Midnight has come and gone. Early morning hours are in play.

“The Punchbowl,” Blake whispers to Lester.

“Okay.”

The crushed stone from the parking lot has made its way up the dirt road towards the Punchbowl. The crunching under his feet seems louder than it is. Standing outside the Punchbowl, he realizes he needs to fill Lester in on what is going on.

“I need some insurance against Luke,” Blake says.

“Whatever you need, Blake.”

“Thanks, Lester.”

He and Lester walk around the back of the large barn. Lester points to a locked door and one of the basement windows.

“If I open the door now the alarm will go off.”

“Right.”

“I will go in the window, disarm the alarm system and open the door for you.”

“Sounds good.”

Lester slides in the basement window, disarms the alarm system, and works his way around to the back door. He and Lester step deeper inside the barn and walk across the floor to the door with the word, Punchbowl, written across the front of it with a black Sharpie.

Heopens the door and slowly walks down the long creaking flight of stairs. Lester selects the right switch and turns the basement lights on. The basement is illuminated and he takes in the sight.

When he gets to the bottom of the stairs, he is surprised to see the size of the Punchbowl. The room is at least ten thousand square feet. The operation is much bigger than he ever expected. He takes his smartphone out of his pocket and turns the video on. He places the smartphone in his right front pocket with the camera lens sticking out enough to record what he is seeing. He sees Lester has stopped at the bottom of the stairs. He realizes he has pushed Lester to his limit. Being around this many drugs can’t be easy for him.

“Wait, here I will be right back,” Blake says.

“Okay,” Lester says with his hands over his face.

There are three groups of workstations. To the right side of the barn, there is the Jackal Moonshine station. On the left side, they are the brewing Jackal Beer. More towards the center, there are multiple tables with different types of drugs on them. Punchbowl.

He needs to move on to the workstation where they are making Jackal drugs. There are five workstations in the Jackal drug area. He looks at the piece of paper on top of the table, and reads the words, Crystal Methamphetamine. Each piece of paper packaging for the drug has the words Jackal Meth stamped on it. He moves on to the