Murder in Santa Monica: A Gabriella Hunt Cozy Mystery

Book 3: Gabriella Hunt Cozy Mystery Series

by Dianne Harman, Andrew Thomas

Genres: Cozy Mystery

Synopsis

Why would the body of a dead truck driver who was drowned in Santa Monica, California, be found in a hotel parking lot in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho?

There doesn’t seem to be a rational reason for it, but Homicide Detectives Luke Falconer and Matt Greene have to find one. Since the hotel parking lot is attached to the York Minster Hotel, Gabriella Hunt’s new hotel, they enlist her help, but finding a nexus for her hotel, Medford, Oregon, and Santa Monica, California proves to be very difficult.

Throw in a suspected smuggling ring and a bar that’s cheating the IRS, and it’s no wonder the Feds have become involved and want Luke and Matt to drop the case. And what about the victim’s Russian wife who has an authentic Fabergé egg and a lot of other expensive items in her display cabinet? Her husband was a truck driver, so where did the money come from?

Lust, greed, love, and hatred are all on display in this fast-paced murder mystery. Each time you think you know who and why, there’s another twist. Join Luke, Matt, and Gabriella on a roller coaster ride as they try to make sense of it all. Good thing there’s Boris the Bulldog always waiting for them at the hotel when they return.

This is the third book in the Gabriella Hunt Cozy Mystery Series by a USA Today Bestselling Author.

Release date: October 30, 2022

Print pages: 160

Sample

PROLOGUE

It had been a tiring day of long-distance driving for Jon-Paul Gordon. He’d traveled south from Medford, Oregon as far as he could legally drive within twenty-four hours, and now his day was over. Eleven hours on the road was more than enough driving time for Jon-Paul for a few days. As soon as he’d filled in his log book, he’d lock up his truck in the large truck parking lot in the San Fernando Valley and take a taxi to his hotel in Santa Monica which overlooked the beach, about half an hour away.
After he’d paid his truck parking fees and got into the taxi, Jon-Paul finally relaxed on the way to the hotel. He knew he could have saved a lot of money by booking a hotel room a few blocks away from the beach, rather than right across from it, but that wasn’t what Jon-Paul wanted. He had the cash, and it would be the only bit of luxury he was going to experience for a few weeks. He could use the attention the luxurious hotel would give him, because he certainly wasn’t getting any of that in his own home, the house he paid all the bills for.
Jon-Paul had checked into his hotel room and decided to take a walk down to the outside terrace restaurant and bar. This was what had driven him to push on for the full eleven hours of driving time he could make in one day. In front of him, between the many palm trees and the green shrubbery of the hotel entrance, were swings with children still playing on them, even at this time in the evening. Beyond that was the early evening dark blue water of the Pacific Ocean.
Jon-Paul sat down at an empty table on the terrace, mesmerized by the multi-colored array of neon lights shining out from the famous Santa Monica pier. The purple spokes of the Ferris wheel at the end of the pier were hypnotizing, and Jon-Paul knew he’d made an excellent choice when he’d booked this particular hotel.
The orange hues of the last rays of sunlight were thrown across the Pacific Ocean from the horizon and helped Jon-Paul forget about all the problems he had as he downed a bottle of beer while he sat behind the clear glass barrier of the terrace.
When he’d finished his beer, he walked from his hotel to the beach, deciding he was hungry, but he also planned on having a few more cold beers to finish off the day. There was no need to hurry to his next destination, and he planned on just enjoying the next few days, staying at the luxurious hotel, and seeing everything the noted Santa Monica pier and beach had to offer.
Jon-Paul had plenty of money, so he could afford to spend some time at the beach before he had to make his next pickup. Plus, since his hotel was so close, he didn’t need to worry about staying off the booze for the evening, which was a rare thing for him. He was always careful, because he couldn’t afford to lose his trucking license by getting a driving-under-the-influence charge. Especially with the mess he was involved in back home in Medford, Oregon.
Between his crazy Russian wife and a boss who wanted to fire Jon-Paul Gordon, but didn’t yet have a good enough reason, Jon-Paul’s life could’ve been in a better place. Especially at the age of forty-six. But it was what it was, and he was where he was, which right at this moment, was on one of his favorite beaches on the West Coast of one of the greatest countries in the world, and he had no intention of wasting the night.
Five minutes later, Jon-Paul was walking along the beachfront looking for the restaurant he’d eaten in the last time he was here. It was a small Mexican place that Jon-Paul had enjoyed because of the great food and friendly service. As someone who traveled extensively, he’d found that combination could be pretty hard to find. He often spent his driving time remembering the wonderful restaurants he’d eaten at across the county. It helped to make his long trips more bearable, and sometimes even enjoyable. Hopefully, this would be another one of those enjoyable occasions.
After enjoying a salsa burger with chips and salad in the outdoor seating area, Jon-Paul sipped on a bottle of San Miguel and looked out at the ocean. Now it was completely dark, the street lights were on, and most of the kids playing on the beach had gone home. Jon-Paul smiled, knowing he’d be thinking about this trip on his upcoming drives.
He left the restaurant and walked over to the outdoor bar. He sat on a bar stool and turned it around to enjoy the sights of the night, mainly the pier’s vivid lighting and the flashy lights of the Ferris wheel.
“It’s a great evening for a few cold beers and some fresh Californian ocean air, isn’t it?” a voice asked from close behind Jon-Paul, causing him to turn around to see who was speaking to him. It was a stocky blond man who was wearing a baseball hat. His eyes could be friendly, but when he was being serious about something, he’d stare right through a person in a most uncomfortable way. Dealing with him was pretty scary.
Jon-Paul was astounded to see the man, and said, “What on earth are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be back in Medford? This obviously isn’t a coincidence.”
“No, it’s not, but relax, we need to talk business. And the only way to do it safely is to do it far away from home, which is why I’m here now,” the stocky man said.
“You followed me all the way down from Medford just for a chat?” Jon-Paul asked, looking dubiously at the man.
“Yeah, I had to,” the man said. Then he leaned in close so he could speak directly into Jon-Paul’s ear. “The FBI knows about the smuggling, and they’re watching the truck yard back home to put together the pieces. We need to rethink a few things to keep ourselves safe, because we sure don’t want to make the boss nervous, do we?”
Jon-Paul shuddered at what the man had just said to him, but both of the men remained calm. There was too much at risk to act otherwise.
“Relax and drink your beer. We can talk business later when one of the others gets here,” the stocky man said.
“And who would that be?”
“Oh, you’ll see soon enough. He wants to surprise you,” the stocky man said as he smirked before taking a swig of his beer.
Jon-Paul nodded, and the two men made small talk. In a little while another man walked in and came over to them. He looked at Jon-Paul, nodded his head in greeting, then turned to the stocky man and said, “Finish that or we’re gonna’ be late.”
The stocky man just looked at the new arrival and said, “Grab a chair and chill out while I finish my beer,” which he did in three big swallows.
The other man, who was older, was also wearing a baseball hat. He had straight mousey-brown hair that was graying around the sides. Jon-Paul thought he was about his age, in the mid-forties.
“Shall we go somewhere that’s a little more private, so we can talk?” the new arrival suggested. “I don’t think any of us want to have everyone listening to our conversation. Take your time and join us on the beach when you’re ready.”
Jon-Paul nodded in agreement. The two men walked out of the bar and disappeared into the nighttime crowds walking the beachfront promenade. That’s when Jon-Paul breathed out and thought about what he’d just been told.
No! Not the Feds. Keep it together and see what these two have to say.
Jon-Paul finished his beer, ordered another one, and took it out to the edge of the patio. He turned around and saw that the patio was full of diners and drinkers, and it made him feel relaxed again. It was a far different setting than his truck cab, where he’d been for most of the day, and actually, most of the past few months.
Yes, this is the life. If I can just do a few more jobs for the boss, I’ll be able to make enough money to get out of the game and retire to somewhere like this. Maybe I could even afford to buy something here, a few blocks from the beach. That would be perfect!
But first he had business to do, so Jon-Paul finished his beer and then made his way down the restaurant steps. Not seeing the two men, he crossed the street to the beach. He figured they could easily spot him on the beach if he stood under the ambient glow of the promenade lighting and the lights from the pier.
He walked between the palm trees and tried to find some stars in the sky, but the lights and the city glow made that impossible. On his right was the pier, with the amusement park still lit up, even though the rides had closed down. Right now, there was nowhere else in the world Jon-Paul wanted to be, not even at home with his wife.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, Jon-Paul felt the most incredible dull pain wrap itself around his head. And then he felt himself falling to the beach where the sand stopped his fall. He tried to get up, but the pain in his head was too intense, and he couldn’t make his legs listen to his brain. He rubbed the back of his head, where the pain seemed to have originated from.
Jon-Paul eventually managed to push himself up on his knees, and when he looked up, he saw the two men he’d been talking to towering over him. But they weren’t doing anything to help him. It was more like they were examining something odd they’d found on the ground.
Why won’t they help me up? Surely, they can see I’ve been hurt. I feel like I’ve been punched in the back of my head. For a moment he wondered if he was being set up.
Moments later he didn’t need to wonder any longer when the stocky man bent down, punched Jon-Paul in the face, and then stood back up. Both men grinned with perverse pleasure.
“What’s happening?” Jon-Paul managed to ask through a thick fog,
“Really? You don’t know?” the older man asked, who bent down and grabbed Jon-Paul by his shirt, so he could talk directly into his face. The older man lectured Jon-Paul there on the sand while the stocky man stood to the side, occasionally turning around to make sure their little meeting on the beach hadn’t been noticed by anyone. Since there was nobody in sight, the stocky man turned around and watched his partner manhandle Jon-Paul into the water.
The older man was through with talking. He turned to his partner, indicating with his eyes what he wanted to do next. The stocky man nodded, and they dragged Jon-Paul further out into the ocean past where the tide was breaking on the shoreline. They dropped Jon-Paul into the cold waters of the ocean. He tried to fight to stand up, but after another punch from the stocky man, he was completely subdued. Both men held Jon-Paul underwater, even while he tried as hard as he could to resist, but it was no use. It only took a few minutes for them to drown Jon-Paul Gordon in the cold dark waters of Santa Monica Bay.