Jeff Kerr Presents: Second Death: A Modern Western Crime Thriller - The Adam Cash Mystery Series Book 2

Adam Cash Series Book 1 - FYI

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Epigraph. But the cowardly, the unbelieving, the vile, the murderers, the sexually immoral, those who practice magic arts, the idolaters and all liars—their place will be in the fiery lake of burning sulfur. This is the second death. —Revelations 21:8

Graffiti sprayed on the concrete walk in front of the convenience store halted Cash in his tracks. Red block letters screamed, “Go back to India, you brown bastard.” Cash shook his head and pulled the door open. Inside, he approached the distraught station owner. “Who decorated your sidewalk, Avi?” From behind the counter, Avi Rao blinked as if awakening from a trance. “Probably the same asshole who blew up my station.” “Do you know something I don’t?” “Just a guess.” “Maybe the surveillance footage would show us.” He shook his head. “I’ve got cameras trained on the pumps and here inside the store but nothing outside the door.” “Are any of the cameras inside pointed toward the door? It’s made of glass.” “Yes, but all it shows is some guy wearing a hoodie. He kept his back to the camera the whole time.” “Let’s take a look.” “Sure. Let’s go in the back.” Cash couldn’t blame Avi for looking shell-shocked. He had purchased the station only six months ago and now a significant portion of it lay in ruins. Cash still recalled the excitement on Avi’s face the first time he had seen him behind the counter. He had saved for years to buy the place and move his family from Houston to pursue the American dream. Since then, he had become active in the Chamber of Commerce and the local Kiwanis Club. He sponsored a Little League team, donated generously to the high school football team’s fundraiser, and decorated his antique Ford Mustang to showcase it in the annual rodeo parade. In short, Avi had made himself a part of the community. He loved Pinyon, and in return the people of Pinyon loved him. Most of them, anyway, the ones who didn’t spray graffiti. But in Cash’s experience, there were jerks in every community. 

As Cash followed Avi into the back office, he said, “Insurance will cover the damage, right” “Yes, but I’ll be out of business for a while. Even when I reopen, I’ll be short two pumps.” “People will still need gas. They’ll use the pumps that do work.” “I suppose.” His voice betrayed disbelief. “But even a small drop in business will hurt. The profit margin of a gas station is thin.” They reached the office. Avi flipped a laptop open and tapped on the keyboard. The screen displayed a grid of images of the outside pumps seen from different overhead angles. When he clicked on one, it enlarged to fill the screen. “It happened around two-thirty. I was filling the soft drink cooler. Thank goodness no one else was outside.” “Was there anyone else in the store?” “Yes, a man on his phone. He left pretty quick.” “Did you know him?” “No.” They each settled into a chair. Avi tapped the keyboard a few more times. “Okay, we should see it soon.” They watched as the Chevy Silverado pulled into the station. The driver, whom Cash recognized as the dead man, got out and knelt beside a pump. “What’s he doing?” said Cash. “I can’t tell.” The driver inserted the nozzle into the gas tank. Cash said, “He’s getting diesel. Took him long enough.” They watched some more. “And look how he’s checking those tires. He’s moving slower than molasses.” As the screen showed the man entering the store, Cash said, “The name on his license is Ralph Spencer. Do you know him?” “No. I’ve seen him a few times, but he doesn’t talk much. Just buys cigarettes, maybe a lottery ticket, and goes on his way.” “Okay, here we go,” said Cash as Spencer returned to the truck. He replaced the nozzle, closed the gas cap, and stuck a cigarette in his mouth. A blinding flash lit up the screen. Cash winced. It reminded him of explosions in Afghanistan. “It’s when he lit his cigarette,” Avi said. “That’s strange.” “It’s strange that gas fumes explode?” “He was on the other side of the truck. Away from the pumps. Sure, you shouldn’t smoke when you’re pumping gas, but I see people do it all the time. None of them ever blew up. And this man was getting diesel, which isn’t very combustible.” “Show me the guy in the store.” Avi clicked the mouse and an inside view of the store popped onto the screen. “That’s him.” The man was large, with short black hair, and dressed in jeans and a denim work shirt. His back was turned to the camera as he held a phone to his ear. “Is there audio?” “No.” “Too bad.” The man took the phone from his ear and appeared to look at it. His head swiveled to give him a view outside. Moments later, several items fell from the shelves. “That’s when the truck blew up,” Avi said. “He doesn’t look very surprised.” The man turned around so Cash could see his face. He was in his mid-thirties, clean-shaven with the tanned skin of someone who spent a lot of time outdoors. “And you don’t know him?” “No.” Cash turned to leave. “Where are you going?” Avi asked. “I’m gonna go take another look at that truck.” Frida was finishing up her examination of the body as Cash returned. “Do you have a tow truck coming?” he asked. “Why would I need a tow truck?” “To take it back to the station. Don’t you need to examine it more?” “It looks like an accident to me.” “He was pumping diesel. Avi says that’s not very combustible.” “Not combustible and not very combustible are two different things.” “Hang on a second.” Cash walked to the rear of the truck. He dropped to his back and pulled himself beneath the vehicle. The chemical stench of burned rubber, metal, and plastic overpowered him, making him momentarily lightheaded. Fighting off the assault on his nostrils in the cramped space, he eyed what remained of the gas tank. A fill pipe coursed down from above to enter the tank, but what was that next to it? Another, thinner pipe dangled from the undercarriage. When Cash shook it, the pipe rattled against the tank’s side. He slid a finger toward it and found a hole in the tank the same size as the diameter of the pipe. Cash extricated himself from beneath the truck and stood up. “What did you see?” Frida asked. Without answering, Cash hopped into the truck bed and poked among the rubble. “Look here.” Frida peered into the bed. “See this melted plastic? I think it was a water storage tank.” “So?” Peering behind the misshapen plastic mass, Cash saw a pipe poking up through the truck bed. “So, it could have been used to hold something other than water. I think he was stealing gas.” He jumped out of the truck. “You need to take this back to the station and really search it.” “What am I looking for?” “Some type of electronic device. Probably in the cab, if it wasn’t completely destroyed in the fire. Hang on, I’ll take a look.” Cash walked to the passenger door and yanked it open. With Frida peering over his shoulder, he spotted an amorphous lump on the floor stuck to a small square of charred plywood, from which four blackened bolts protruded. Pointing at it, he said, “I think that’s it.” “Educate me. How did he use that to steal gas?” “It was capable of disabling the flow meter so it looks like he got, say twenty gallons, when in fact he filled up the auxiliary tank in the truck bed.” “Great idea. Unless it leaks fumes. And he’s dumb enough to smoke while pumping the gas.” “Maybe.” “The stupid son of a bitch blew himself sky high.” “I’m still bothered by the fact that Avi says diesel isn’t very explosive.” “I think we’re looking at evidence that says otherwise.” The pieces weren’t adding up for him. “I guess.” Another thought came to him. “When I check the credit card number he used to pay, I’ll bet I’ll find out it was stolen.” “This guy had it all worked out.” “He could have been working with someone else. Maybe that’s who killed him.” “Sounds like you’ve got an investigation on your hands, Deputy.” Cash felt his heart rate kick up a notch. “Indeed, I do.”

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 Kerr's Texas roots inject real-world authenticity into his gripping stories, keeping his readers up way past their bedtimes.

I thought I would quote the above sentence as part of my review... You see, there were so many issues that were included in this book, that I felt like I was counting off criminal activities now taking place in the U.S. The book starts out with prejudice against immigrants--legal ones who have become a part of the community as are many now being harassed. Hate is a worthless emotion that should have no place in a supposed "Christian" nation... But, when religion is used for criminal reasons, which this book indeed includes, somehow violence is deemed acceptable...for "God's" sake...

“What happened to all that holier-than-thou crap? I thought you guys were members of the God squad.”

Then we have the usual criminals, out for making money the easiest way possible for little physical labor, of course... Normally accompanied with drug use/sales... And then there is the white supremacy activities when the election of an incumbent by the name of Santos is being hooked up against a rich white dude with too much "good ole boy actions" to make him honest...

“Are you working hard or hardly working?” Santos forced a weak chuckle at the lame joke. “It isn’t work when you like doing it.” Virgil Hall, president of the Pinyon Rotary Club, slapped Santos on the shoulder and let loose a genuine laugh. “That’s the spirit I like to see in a man.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “We’re having chicken fried steak today. Mashed potatoes and cream gravy. Although I can do without the gravy. I like ketchup on mine.” Unable to think of a response, Santos nodded and smiled. He wished Hall, a short, stocky man with thinning hair and ruddy cheeks that looked like ripe tomatoes, would stop yakking and start the meeting. Making small talk with the man was taxing his patience. He had already listened to an endless story about a happy customer at Hall’s tire store. Hall leaned in again and Santos braced himself. The club president had a habit of thrusting his head forward with each sentence as if he were about to reveal a juicy secret. “How’s your new deputy playing out?” “Do you mean Cash?” “Yeah. You know, I knew his daddy. We didn’t always see eye to eye but he was all right.” “Cash is doing great. He’s a good man.” “I heard you’re hiring another deputy too.” Santos blinked in surprise. He hadn’t told anyone but Cash and Fred Uecker. Cash would keep the news to himself, so Uecker must have blabbed. He should have known the county commissioner couldn’t keep that to himself. “Yes, her name is Keisha Hodge.” Hall drew back in feigned surprise. “A woman deputy. Well, I’ll be dogged. Noble County is going woke.” Santos kept his mouth shut. He had expected such a reaction from at least a few folks in town. “Keisha, huh?” Hall went on, a puzzled look on his face. “That’s an unusual name. Is that Russian?” “No, sir. She’s Black.” Hall leaned in again. “She is, is she? Do you think the people of Noble County are ready for that?” Heat rose up Santos’ neck. Some people had asked that same question about his hiring. “If they’re not, they better get ready, because she starts next week.” Hall clicked his tongue and gestured toward a table. “Why don’t you take your place, Sheriff? The meeting’s about to start.” Santos’ anger at Hall had the fortunate effect of pushing his anxiety over today’s gathering to the back of his mind. He spotted Edie James at the back of the room chatting with two men. He had asked her only this morning about being his campaign manager and was relieved when she said yes. The meeting was being held in the private dining room at the Firewheel Café. Although he dined at the Firewheel regularly, Santos recognized few faces in the room. There was Jeanine, manager of the credit union, and Frida Simmons, the county medical examiner. One-time Houston Oiler and current antique shop owner Will Anson was sitting in the front row. Beyond that, Santos drew a blank. Hall stepped to the lectern and rang a bell to start the meeting. He read through a list of announcements before leading the group in the Pledge of Allegiance. As he started to recite the Rotary Club’s Four-Way Test, loud laughter interrupted him from just outside the door. 

Moments later, three men strode in. Two of them were strangers to Santos, but the third man’s face was well-known to him from the campaign posters already showing up around town. Mitch Eaton. Eaton caught Hall’s eye and waved. “Howdy, there, Virgil. I hope we’re not too late for the meeting.” Hall spread his hands in a gesture of welcome. “Not at all, gentlemen. We were just getting started.” Eaton took his time finding a seat, stopping along the way to shake hands and greet people. Watching him, Santos’ stomach sank. The man was a natural politician. What chance did he have against someone like that? Once Eaton finished with his glad-handing, Hall got through the rest of the club’s business and introduced Santos. “I’m sure y’all know him by now,” he said, “so I don’t have to say much about him. What you might not know is that he’s running for sheriff.” A hand went up. “Isn’t he already sheriff?” “Yeah, but then Mitch pointed out to the commissioners the rule about calling a special election if there’s an opening with this much time to go in the term of office.” Hall caught Eaton’s eye and grinned. “Pretty sneaky, Mitch.” Everyone laughed. Santos swore under his breath. So the election was Eaton’s doing. Hall rapped his gavel. “All right, everybody, let’s give a warm Rotary welcome to Acting Sheriff Santos.” As Santos stepped to the podium, he decided to throw out his prepared speech and speak off the cuff. Everybody was fawning over Eaton as if he was predestined to win? So be it. Santos would go down swinging.

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Adam Cash--normally just called Cash--is a character that makes this series comes alive. You know what I mean, don't you? Even as a deputy, he runs cases like he sees that they should be run, normally based upon sound gut feelings, or based upon hypothetical options that's been explored in his mind based upon investigation results.

A new deputy has just been hired by the unit. Keisha Hodge has more experience and training, but she has come back home to be with her grandmother. The entire team has accepted her... But soon the heckling started when calls started coming in talking about two non-whites now being in the department that needed to be replaced...  Keisha is a fantastic addition to the series in my opinion. She's not only got the experience, but has the physical attributes that makes her easily able to handle herself in any situation. In fact, I enjoyed the author throwing in basketball games between her and Cash...with Keisha winning all games! Cash's respect for her easily was improved after a couple of games... LOL

And let us not forget the entrance of religion into the political arena as a group of individuals have moved into town and immediately trouble started, beginning with a man's truck being blown while he was stealing gasoline... But upon investigating, it was determined that there had also been a bomb placed under the vehicle... Later, a similar activity occurred with Cash's new truck... Now it was personal! Cash would take off, head into another state to discover who these new people were, for instance... Always after the fact letting Santos know what he's learned... Until, finally, Santos had heard enough to accept that the scenario presented by Cash was indeed a sound concept...

Now all they had to do is prove it... And the main clue was...gold coins... Folks, there were so many related issues that we are all now facing, that it was hard to not see the correlation as I read... Fortunately, Kerr had totally created a fantastic story, even if pointing out the primary criminal actions now happening in the United States. I found it the best fiction novel that pointed out the criminal actions, while creating a method by which a story flows easily, with appropriate investigations being done that actually resulted in finding and punishing the criminals... Something now yet achieved for the majority of issues the United States is now dealing with...

If I didn't already have a major TBR list, I'd be reading this entire series--it's that good!

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