The Murder of Manny Grimes
The Cases of Lieutenant DeLong #1
By Angela Kay
Genre: Suspense, Thriller, Mystery
When three young boys stumble into Lieutenant Jim DeLong's life one night during a winter storm, they claim they've seen a dead body by the swing sets of the Columbia County Elementary School. After he investigates, DeLong sees no evidence, not even a body. But were the boys telling the truth?
With the help of his oldest friend and mentor, former Naval investigator Russ Calhoun, DeLong sets out to find whether Manny Grimes is alive or dead. The further away he gets to the bottom of the mystery, the closer he comes to realize that his own life is falling apart.
Delving deeper into the murder of Manny Grimes, Lieutenant DeLong begins to unravel, losing his sense of control, falling into old temptations he spent years to overcome. Will he be able to move past his own demons and untangle the web of lies before it's too late?
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With the help of his oldest friend and mentor, former Naval investigator Russ Calhoun, DeLong sets out to find whether Manny Grimes is alive or dead. The further away he gets to the bottom of the mystery, the closer he comes to realize that his own life is falling apart.
Delving deeper into the murder of Manny Grimes, Lieutenant DeLong begins to unravel, losing his sense of control, falling into old temptations he spent years to overcome. Will he be able to move past his own demons and untangle the web of lies before it's too late?
Add to Goodreads
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“We don’t have the time to go searching for a missing person that hasn’t yet been reported missing.”
Captain Stewart had listened intently to DeLong’s story before shaking his head in annoyance.
“But, sir,” DeLong protested, “the kids reported him at the school and—”
Though he already knew the answer, Stewart asked, “When you investigated, did you see Grimes at the school? Or any evidence that corroborated these children’s claims?”
“No,” DeLong admitted.
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant, but I’m not going to allow you to run around town, searching for a man that more than likely got out of Dodge. I don’t appreciate the fact that a member of my team," Stewart jabbed a thumb toward his chest, "entered another person’s home without permission. And convinced a civilian to do the same.” The captain glared from DeLong to Calhoun and back again.
“Captain Stewart,” Calhoun put in. He had been seated quietly, listening as the lieutenant recounted once again what had happened the day before. Now he rose to put in his two cents. “I believe that something happened to Grimes. I went to his house on my own accord. Everything Jim just told you, I stand by. Something happened to this man. We have a duty to find out what. Captain, if we come up with nothing, or we find out we've been chasing our tails, then I'll eat my jacket."
Stewart narrowed his eyes in Calhoun's direction and crossed his arms. “You think this is funny, Calhoun? I would have thought better of you than to be involved in a wild goose chase. Entering a man’s premises without a warrant? I should throw the book at you.” He glared at DeLong again. “Actually, I should throw the book at both of you.”
He sighed and leaned back in his chair, uncrossing his arms and linking his hands behind his head. He continued to glare between the two men.
“All right," he said after minutes passed. "DeLong, I’ve known you long enough to know that ninety times out of a hundred, your instincts are sound. You want to search for the man, then fine." He held both palms in the air, then slowly lowered them flat on the desk and leaned forward.
"But do not, I repeat do not, do anything that would require a warrant until you have probable cause to actually get a warrant. Keep me posted. I’ll give you two days to either find Grimes or hard evidence that he is actually missing. Two days. That is all.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, Captain,” DeLong said with a satisfied nod.
“Yes, thank you,” Calhoun echoed.
“I have to run out for a little while,” the captain said with a sigh. He rose, straightening his shirt uniform. "Try not to waste too much of my time. Or yours."
"Yes, sir," DeLong acknowledged as he left the office.
“Where do you want to start?” Calhoun wondered, trailing after him.
“I suppose we should go back to the schoolyard,” DeLong said, halfway out the door. “Maybe between the two of us, we'll find something I overlooked when I first looked around." Outside, DeLong blew into his hands to warm them. "Honestly, I just wanted to get out of the station a little bit. But I didn't want to go home. Sam has me sleeping on the couch these days. Anyway, I wasn't really sure what I was looking for. The body wasn't there. The snow we had would have destroyed most, if not all the evidence."
At the truck they slid inside. DeLong adjusted the heat as Calhoun set the gear in motion. "I just want to be sure we've covered all our bases.
Then let’s go back to the Walkers'. I want to know more about Jonathan Walker’s friendship with Manny Grimes.”
Captain Stewart had listened intently to DeLong’s story before shaking his head in annoyance.
“But, sir,” DeLong protested, “the kids reported him at the school and—”
Though he already knew the answer, Stewart asked, “When you investigated, did you see Grimes at the school? Or any evidence that corroborated these children’s claims?”
“No,” DeLong admitted.
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant, but I’m not going to allow you to run around town, searching for a man that more than likely got out of Dodge. I don’t appreciate the fact that a member of my team," Stewart jabbed a thumb toward his chest, "entered another person’s home without permission. And convinced a civilian to do the same.” The captain glared from DeLong to Calhoun and back again.
“Captain Stewart,” Calhoun put in. He had been seated quietly, listening as the lieutenant recounted once again what had happened the day before. Now he rose to put in his two cents. “I believe that something happened to Grimes. I went to his house on my own accord. Everything Jim just told you, I stand by. Something happened to this man. We have a duty to find out what. Captain, if we come up with nothing, or we find out we've been chasing our tails, then I'll eat my jacket."
Stewart narrowed his eyes in Calhoun's direction and crossed his arms. “You think this is funny, Calhoun? I would have thought better of you than to be involved in a wild goose chase. Entering a man’s premises without a warrant? I should throw the book at you.” He glared at DeLong again. “Actually, I should throw the book at both of you.”
He sighed and leaned back in his chair, uncrossing his arms and linking his hands behind his head. He continued to glare between the two men.
“All right," he said after minutes passed. "DeLong, I’ve known you long enough to know that ninety times out of a hundred, your instincts are sound. You want to search for the man, then fine." He held both palms in the air, then slowly lowered them flat on the desk and leaned forward.
"But do not, I repeat do not, do anything that would require a warrant until you have probable cause to actually get a warrant. Keep me posted. I’ll give you two days to either find Grimes or hard evidence that he is actually missing. Two days. That is all.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, Captain,” DeLong said with a satisfied nod.
“Yes, thank you,” Calhoun echoed.
“I have to run out for a little while,” the captain said with a sigh. He rose, straightening his shirt uniform. "Try not to waste too much of my time. Or yours."
"Yes, sir," DeLong acknowledged as he left the office.
“Where do you want to start?” Calhoun wondered, trailing after him.
“I suppose we should go back to the schoolyard,” DeLong said, halfway out the door. “Maybe between the two of us, we'll find something I overlooked when I first looked around." Outside, DeLong blew into his hands to warm them. "Honestly, I just wanted to get out of the station a little bit. But I didn't want to go home. Sam has me sleeping on the couch these days. Anyway, I wasn't really sure what I was looking for. The body wasn't there. The snow we had would have destroyed most, if not all the evidence."
At the truck they slid inside. DeLong adjusted the heat as Calhoun set the gear in motion. "I just want to be sure we've covered all our bases.
Then let’s go back to the Walkers'. I want to know more about Jonathan Walker’s friendship with Manny Grimes.”
Blood Runs Cold
The Cases of Lieutenant DeLong #2
A young woman has been murdered at the Savannah Rapids Pavilion and Lieutenant Jim DeLong realizes at first sight this case will be the most difficult one of his career. DeLong is immediately swept into the memories of his childhood and dark secrets he's longed to forget.
The victim is his sister-in-law, and old thoughts he's fought to delete will be resurrected whether DeLong likes it or not. He and his brother have been estranged by unhappy times in their youth. With no clear motive, DeLong questions his ability to remain objective.
**On Sale for .99 cents!!**
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The victim is his sister-in-law, and old thoughts he's fought to delete will be resurrected whether DeLong likes it or not. He and his brother have been estranged by unhappy times in their youth. With no clear motive, DeLong questions his ability to remain objective.
**On Sale for .99 cents!!**
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DeLong closed the garage door and went inside the house. He heard soft murmurs floating from the living room. He knew his six-year-old daughter, Bella, was in school, so he guessed Samantha was probably
watching television. DeLong was glad to be with his wife, even for just a few minutes. After coming onto the scene and seeing his brother's wife, he just wanted to hold on to Samantha and never let her go. It was
nothing but a harsh reminder that in the blink of an eye, everything can go wrong. The memory of Bree was etched in his mind and continued to haunt him. Seeing her in the water left him feeling empty.
Samantha liked to tell him that everything happened for a reason.
But there was no reason for women like Bree DeLong to be murdered.
She was a kindhearted young woman who wanted nothing more than to help those less fortunate—particularly children.
"Honey, I'm home," DeLong called out. Draping his jacket on the back of the kitchen chair, he let out a long yawn. His eyes felt heavy, and his stomach rumbled. But despite his hunger, he didn't feel much like eating. He would opt for a quick nap, but he wasn't sure that would happen either.
"Jim, we're in here, honey."
We?
Was someone here?
Remembering the urgency in Samantha's text resulted in his stomach churning.
DeLong grabbed a Coke can from the refrigerator and stepped into the living room.
Though deep down it didn't come to a surprise to him, DeLong almost dropped the can when he saw his brother sitting on the couch next to his wife.
"Sully." He blinked a few times as if he were trying to stop imagining things. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm sorry to come here like this." Sullivan glanced over at Samantha, then back at DeLong. He looked as though he wanted to say something and then shook his head. Sullivan pushed to his feet. "Sorry, Sam, I can't do this. I really should go."
Samantha put a hand on his wrist to keep him from moving away.
"You're always welcome here, Sully. Right, Jim?" She shot her husband a look of warning.
"Of course," he stammered.
Samantha pulled Sullivan back to the cushions.
DeLong studied his older brother for a good five minutes, taking in every sadness, every anger. He seemed to have aged a few more years since DeLong had seen him at the morgue. His eyes were hollow, and he looked as though he hadn't slept for a week.
He wanted to say something consoling to him, but what could he say? There were no words to ease someone in this time of grief. If there were, he wasn't aware of them.
"How are you doing?" He sat on the edge of the coffee table.
Sullivan only shook his head. His eyes began to water, a single tear sliding down the corner of his eye. He bounced his knees and set his head in his hands.
"I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” Sullivan mumbled. “Ally’s in school. I-I went there to tell her what happened, but I just couldn't.”
"We’ll figure this out. It'll be OK.” DeLong cleared his throat, pressed his fingertips to his eyelids, and then leaned in toward his brother. "Why don't you go ahead and tell me everything you know?
Start from the last time you spoke to or saw Bree. What she was doing, where she went, who she spoke to...don't leave anything out."
Sullivan looked at DeLong, then Samantha and back again. "The last time we spoke was yesterday morning. I think around six or so. It was before she took Ally to school.”
“How did she seem?” DeLong asked.
Sullivan shrugged. “Normal.”
“Do you know what her plan for the day was?”
“I think she was going to that center she runs--Protecting the Lord’s Children. After that…” Sullivan trailed off. He seemed to be thinking about what he wanted to say next. Finally, he replied, “After that, she was supposed to go home.”
“But she didn't go home?” DeLong pressed.
“I don't know. I went fishing with an old friend."
“From what time to what time?”
Sullivan narrowed his eyes at DeLong. “What does that matter?”
“I need to build a timeline,” DeLong explained. “That’s all.”
Sullivan squared his jaw, reminding DeLong of how their father always looked when he was forcing himself to remain calm.
“Ten that morning to five in the evening. We went to Clarks Hill Lake.”
“What’s your friend’s name?"
“James Simmons. We used to work together.”
“Where did you go after fishing?” DeLong asked slowly. He motioned for Samantha to hand him a pad from the end table. He began writing the information down.
“Are you implying that I killed her?” Sullivan snapped. DeLong looked up to see the hot anger flash in Sullivan's eyes. He opened his mouth to say something else, but before he did, DeLong held up his palm. He was used to spouses getting flustered by the police as they attempted to weed out suspects. His brother was no different.
“I have to ask these questions, Sully.”
“I wouldn’t hurt her. I loved my wife. We had a good marriage. I can’t…I can’t believe you’d actually think I’d….” Sullivan trailed off and rose to pace the room.
DeLong remained silent, watching. Samantha glared at him.
DeLong shook his head slightly to warn her to stay out of it.
"We were happy," Sullivan continued tautly. "She didn't leave me, and she wasn't having any kind of affair. We were happy."
"Good. Did she have any friends that wanted something more from her? Something she wasn't willing to give him?"
Sullivan shook his head with conviction. "No. I mean, everybody
loved her. You know that. That goes without saying. People loved her,
but not in any romantic sense."
"Did she seem upset at all? Like she was worried about something?"
"No. I mean, I don't think so."
"And you? Is everything good with you? You don't have anything to worry about? Anything that's upsetting you?"
DeLong watched as his brother gazed at him. It looked as though he wanted to say something, but couldn't decide what it would be.
Finally, he put his head in his hands, sighed and looked back at DeLong.
"Why don’t you go ahead and say it, Jim.”
“What are you talking about? I need to ask you these questions. I'm just covering all the bases, Sully."
"These questions are pointless!" Sullivan sliced his hands in the air. “How is whatever it was I did going to help find my wife’s killer?”
"Why don't you just answer my questions, Sullivan? Let me do my job." The words come out gruffer than he intended, which resulted in his wife hissing his name.
Sullivan gaped at his brother, frowning, arms tightly crossed against his chest. Finally, he shook his head in agitation.
"No. I was wrong to come here. What was I thinking? I mean, I need someone capable enough to find out who murdered my wife." A mixture of undeniable anger and pain flashed in Sullivan's eyes. "I need someone that I can trust."
"You can trust Jim, Sully," Samantha interjected, eyes wide, glistening with tears and worry.
Sullivan let out a scoff. "Him? Jim DeLong? Are you kidding me? No offense, but my drunk little brother could fly off the rails at any moment. You of all people should know that."
DeLong squared his jaw in an effort to stay calm. He remained quiet as Samantha stammered.
Sullivan shook his head and cursed. "Forget it. This was a mistake, and I'm out of here."
Before anyone could respond, Sullivan flew out the door.
DeLong frowned, well aware that Samantha was glaring at him.
“Go stop him!” she hissed through her teeth, jabbing her index finger toward the door.
Obliging, DeLong chased after his brother, calling his name. He knew it was a fruitless effort, even before he saw Sullivan climbing in his car and pulling away, tires spinning hotly on the cement.
watching television. DeLong was glad to be with his wife, even for just a few minutes. After coming onto the scene and seeing his brother's wife, he just wanted to hold on to Samantha and never let her go. It was
nothing but a harsh reminder that in the blink of an eye, everything can go wrong. The memory of Bree was etched in his mind and continued to haunt him. Seeing her in the water left him feeling empty.
Samantha liked to tell him that everything happened for a reason.
But there was no reason for women like Bree DeLong to be murdered.
She was a kindhearted young woman who wanted nothing more than to help those less fortunate—particularly children.
"Honey, I'm home," DeLong called out. Draping his jacket on the back of the kitchen chair, he let out a long yawn. His eyes felt heavy, and his stomach rumbled. But despite his hunger, he didn't feel much like eating. He would opt for a quick nap, but he wasn't sure that would happen either.
"Jim, we're in here, honey."
We?
Was someone here?
Remembering the urgency in Samantha's text resulted in his stomach churning.
DeLong grabbed a Coke can from the refrigerator and stepped into the living room.
Though deep down it didn't come to a surprise to him, DeLong almost dropped the can when he saw his brother sitting on the couch next to his wife.
"Sully." He blinked a few times as if he were trying to stop imagining things. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm sorry to come here like this." Sullivan glanced over at Samantha, then back at DeLong. He looked as though he wanted to say something and then shook his head. Sullivan pushed to his feet. "Sorry, Sam, I can't do this. I really should go."
Samantha put a hand on his wrist to keep him from moving away.
"You're always welcome here, Sully. Right, Jim?" She shot her husband a look of warning.
"Of course," he stammered.
Samantha pulled Sullivan back to the cushions.
DeLong studied his older brother for a good five minutes, taking in every sadness, every anger. He seemed to have aged a few more years since DeLong had seen him at the morgue. His eyes were hollow, and he looked as though he hadn't slept for a week.
He wanted to say something consoling to him, but what could he say? There were no words to ease someone in this time of grief. If there were, he wasn't aware of them.
"How are you doing?" He sat on the edge of the coffee table.
Sullivan only shook his head. His eyes began to water, a single tear sliding down the corner of his eye. He bounced his knees and set his head in his hands.
"I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” Sullivan mumbled. “Ally’s in school. I-I went there to tell her what happened, but I just couldn't.”
"We’ll figure this out. It'll be OK.” DeLong cleared his throat, pressed his fingertips to his eyelids, and then leaned in toward his brother. "Why don't you go ahead and tell me everything you know?
Start from the last time you spoke to or saw Bree. What she was doing, where she went, who she spoke to...don't leave anything out."
Sullivan looked at DeLong, then Samantha and back again. "The last time we spoke was yesterday morning. I think around six or so. It was before she took Ally to school.”
“How did she seem?” DeLong asked.
Sullivan shrugged. “Normal.”
“Do you know what her plan for the day was?”
“I think she was going to that center she runs--Protecting the Lord’s Children. After that…” Sullivan trailed off. He seemed to be thinking about what he wanted to say next. Finally, he replied, “After that, she was supposed to go home.”
“But she didn't go home?” DeLong pressed.
“I don't know. I went fishing with an old friend."
“From what time to what time?”
Sullivan narrowed his eyes at DeLong. “What does that matter?”
“I need to build a timeline,” DeLong explained. “That’s all.”
Sullivan squared his jaw, reminding DeLong of how their father always looked when he was forcing himself to remain calm.
“Ten that morning to five in the evening. We went to Clarks Hill Lake.”
“What’s your friend’s name?"
“James Simmons. We used to work together.”
“Where did you go after fishing?” DeLong asked slowly. He motioned for Samantha to hand him a pad from the end table. He began writing the information down.
“Are you implying that I killed her?” Sullivan snapped. DeLong looked up to see the hot anger flash in Sullivan's eyes. He opened his mouth to say something else, but before he did, DeLong held up his palm. He was used to spouses getting flustered by the police as they attempted to weed out suspects. His brother was no different.
“I have to ask these questions, Sully.”
“I wouldn’t hurt her. I loved my wife. We had a good marriage. I can’t…I can’t believe you’d actually think I’d….” Sullivan trailed off and rose to pace the room.
DeLong remained silent, watching. Samantha glared at him.
DeLong shook his head slightly to warn her to stay out of it.
"We were happy," Sullivan continued tautly. "She didn't leave me, and she wasn't having any kind of affair. We were happy."
"Good. Did she have any friends that wanted something more from her? Something she wasn't willing to give him?"
Sullivan shook his head with conviction. "No. I mean, everybody
loved her. You know that. That goes without saying. People loved her,
but not in any romantic sense."
"Did she seem upset at all? Like she was worried about something?"
"No. I mean, I don't think so."
"And you? Is everything good with you? You don't have anything to worry about? Anything that's upsetting you?"
DeLong watched as his brother gazed at him. It looked as though he wanted to say something, but couldn't decide what it would be.
Finally, he put his head in his hands, sighed and looked back at DeLong.
"Why don’t you go ahead and say it, Jim.”
“What are you talking about? I need to ask you these questions. I'm just covering all the bases, Sully."
"These questions are pointless!" Sullivan sliced his hands in the air. “How is whatever it was I did going to help find my wife’s killer?”
"Why don't you just answer my questions, Sullivan? Let me do my job." The words come out gruffer than he intended, which resulted in his wife hissing his name.
Sullivan gaped at his brother, frowning, arms tightly crossed against his chest. Finally, he shook his head in agitation.
"No. I was wrong to come here. What was I thinking? I mean, I need someone capable enough to find out who murdered my wife." A mixture of undeniable anger and pain flashed in Sullivan's eyes. "I need someone that I can trust."
"You can trust Jim, Sully," Samantha interjected, eyes wide, glistening with tears and worry.
Sullivan let out a scoff. "Him? Jim DeLong? Are you kidding me? No offense, but my drunk little brother could fly off the rails at any moment. You of all people should know that."
DeLong squared his jaw in an effort to stay calm. He remained quiet as Samantha stammered.
Sullivan shook his head and cursed. "Forget it. This was a mistake, and I'm out of here."
Before anyone could respond, Sullivan flew out the door.
DeLong frowned, well aware that Samantha was glaring at him.
“Go stop him!” she hissed through her teeth, jabbing her index finger toward the door.
Obliging, DeLong chased after his brother, calling his name. He knew it was a fruitless effort, even before he saw Sullivan climbing in his car and pulling away, tires spinning hotly on the cement.
Equipped with a professional writing degree from Augusta State University, Angela Kay is a southern lady who spends her days and nights dreaming up new ways to solve dark murders of normal people.
Angela Kay was one of 23 across the United States to win a 2009 playwright contest for her one-act entitled “Digging Deeper.” Because of this, she was able to spend a week in Atlanta at the Horizon Theater Company.
She lives in Augusta, Georgia with her crazy calico, Maggie.
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Angela Kay was one of 23 across the United States to win a 2009 playwright contest for her one-act entitled “Digging Deeper.” Because of this, she was able to spend a week in Atlanta at the Horizon Theater Company.
She lives in Augusta, Georgia with her crazy calico, Maggie.
Website * Newsletter * Facebook * Twitter * Amazon * Goodreads
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kickoff at Silver Dagger Book Tours
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Feb 13
Anna del C. Dye official page
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The lives and loves of a book nerd
Feb 14
Spunky N Sassy
Just a Little R&R
WS Momma Readers Nook
Feb 15
Laurie's Thoughts and Reviews
2 Girls & A Book
Little Ray Of Sunshine
Feb 16
A Mama's Corner of the World
Book Review Virignia Lee
XoXo Book Blog
Feb 17
AC Squared Book Blog
Book Bangers Blog
Feb 18
Readeropolis
Bound 2 Escape
Feb 19
books are love
Books all things paranormal and romance
YA Book Divas
Feb 20
JB's Bookworms with Brandy Mulder
BookwormBridgette's World
The Bookworm Chronicles
Feb 21
Brianna Remus Books
eBook Addicts
The Pen and Muse Book Reviews
Feb 22
Book Reviews and Giveaways
Cali Book Reviews
The Book Town
Feb 23
Aconite Cafe
Deal Sharing Aunt
Feb 24
3 Partners in Shopping, Nana, Mommy, &, Sissy, Too!
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The Avid Reader
Home for Book Lovers
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Girl with Pen
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Lisa-Queen of Random
Momma Says: To Read or Not to Read
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Meghan's Mindless Mutterings: Reviews & Giveaways
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Loves Great Reads Blog
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fundinmental
Millsy Loves Books
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Ms. Cat's Honest World – REVIEW 1
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