Alexander Steele Murder Mystery Excerpts

Excerpt from Death Dealer

Later that morning Steele drove down to North Philly to an area known by the locals as the Badlands to meet Trench in his office hidden behind a restaurant aptly named the Greasy Spoon. It was a bright sunny day outside but it was clear from the grime on the front window that the sun’s attempt to brighten the inside was a lost cause.

From the moment Steele walked in the door it was evident that whoever was
responsible for cleaning the place had taken the last five years off. The dingy red and white sign in the corner read special, 2 eggs, hash browns, and coffee $1.50. Knowing that it was a front for Trench’s illegal activities in the back Steele shook his head as he entered. He murmured, “They should change the sign to leave your taste buds at the door.”

The half dozen zombie-like patrons didn’t bother to look up when he walked in. The
decor was early seventies with duck taped stools but the balding; cigarette smoking man in front of the grill was defiantly a product of the fifties. Never taking the cigarette from his mouth the sweaty cook turned around holding a spatula in one hand and plate of eggs and hash browns in the other. “What can I get you young blood?”

Steele chuckled as he thought, "Coffee, hash browns and eggs $1.50. Cigarette
ashes? No charge. Does that come with a side of Pepto Bismol? This place would be
a health inspector’s dream if one was ever bold enough to come through those doors."
Steele took notice of the bulge near the cook’s waistline under his dirty apron.
"That ain’t no fanny pack," he thought, this guy was definitely packing heat. The cook was doing double duty as Trench’s first line of defense; too bad he didn't do windows. Steele glanced at the plate of food and waved him off, “No thanks.” He pointed to the dark brown door all the way in the back. The man set the plate on the counter in front of the customer. Hanging directly over head was a swirly strip of fly paper that had done its job all too well.

“You Steele?” he asked. When Steele nodded the cook reached under the counter and buzzed him in. Steele passed by an assortment of boxes containing counterfeit merchandise from Trench’s suppliers. They lined the walls of his office in the back of the rundown greasy spoon diner. He counted three body guards plus the hired help.

The Case of the Death Dealer (The Alexander Steele Investigations)