Skip Case (David Dean Mysteries) (Chapter IV, page 1 of 19)


Previous Page
Next Page

Friday, May 7th 5:00 A.M.

The early morning fog blanketing eastern Pennsylvania was thicker than the frosting on grandma's cake, but no thicker than the early morning fog shrouding David Dean's sleep-deprived brain. He felt like a packaged pound of dog meat after slightly less than three hours sandwiched in his warm and comfortable bed between Ethel Rosewater's last frenzied spasm of pleasure and the screaming alarm clock. For the first hour of his trip to the airport, Dean's vision was restricted to two red eyes of the taillights in front of him, glaring out of a haze as thick as chowder. The traffic crawled to a near standstill as Dean's blood pressure mounted, sure the 8:00 direct flight to Norfolk would leave without him.

He need not have been concerned. The airport was coping with the fog no better than the harried commuters. The place was a morgue of mannequins, all clutching briefcases, their faces in newspapers as the planes stood silently by.

It was 10:00 by the time the fog lifted enough for a bumpy take off and Dean gratefully accepted a much-needed cup of coffee from the pleasant attendant. He declined her offer of a maga­zine. They were all designed for Fortune 500 executives, not poor­ly paid detectives sworn to keep the streets safe for orphans and widows. He tried to snooze but only managed a wink or two before the plane began its descent into Norfolk.

Previous Page
Next Page


Rate This Book

Current Rating: 3.4/5 (491 votes cast)



Review This Book or Post a Comment