Sinnerman: The Regina Grant Mysteries, #1

Sinnerman

A Regina Grant Mystery

By Ngozi T. Robinson

Sinnerman

Copyright © 2022 by Ngozi T. Robinson

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please contact the publisher.

I AM Publications

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Cover art by Soda Khan

ISBN: 978-1-943382-19

Murder Most Foul

Day at the Office

The A Train

Leftovers

The Chase

All the King’s Horses and All the King’s Men

Society Town

Sheriff Jerome

Secrets and Lies

Finding Mary

Spun Like a Top

Twist the Knife

Amen

Murder Most Foul

Summer nights in Washington, DC are the best. The city has an exciting pulse to it and comes alive in a special way. There’s a life and excitement that can be a joy to get lost in. But nothing could cover up the stink of what was to come.

A McLaren pulls up to the curb. A man in a slick suit gets out and paces along the stone steps of a church. He looks at his watch and paces harder. As he looks down the road for signs of someone approaching, a figure in a ski mask steps out from behind a column and draws closer. The black steel of a revolver glints in the light from the street lamps. Few appreciate the joy of a revolver these days. 

The shot reverberates against the stone steps and brick buildings. Those moments of sound seem to last forever. The man falls down the stairs. His limbs lie at odd angles. A pool of blood gathers underneath him and spreads out from an exit wound in his chest. Cowards shoot you in the back.

Police litter the scene. They don’t all need to be here, but once a call like this goes out, everyone wants a piece. There’s talk among the detectives that the victim is everyone’s favorite cult leader, James Hamerson, founder of The Society for Ageless Wisdom. To have him gunned down on the steps of a church he would have never stepped foot in has many people asking questions. 

The evening worship service inside the church had been in full swing at the time of the shooting. Church members spill out of the building and onto the steps, mingling with police and barely making room for the body. It is hard to tell who is who.

Agent Dellers exits the back seat of a car and tells the driver to wait. Dellers is a tall, chocolate, and well-built drink of water. There is something about his smile, though, that never seems to reach his eyes.

He walks to the center of the chaos and shouts in a thunderous baritone voice, Who’s in charge here?

I am, a tall redhead retorts as she turns to size up the man that goes with the voice. Her mouth, which is ready to unleash a dressing down on him, slackens, and her jaw drops as she sees the FBI badge he holds up to her sour face. There is literally nothing local law enforcement hates more than hotshots who parachute in and step all over everything.

Feds, huh? She walks alongside the agent as he heads to the body. So, it really is him? We figured a bigwig would probably show up.

Officers flank a woman holding the leash of a very scary-looking dog. She stands near the body and looks terrified. Forensic photographers light up the night with camera flashes as they record the scene. They illuminate the woman’s face in a way that makes her look haunted, or maybe hunted. There is something about that face that sticks with you.

Who is she? Dellers asks, drawn to her.

Oh. She’s the eyewitness.

Really? She suddenly becomes even more interesting.

She saw the killer, and the killer saw her. The redhead gives him a knowing look, but he isn’t paying her enough attention to notice.

What’s her name? Dellers pulls out a notebook and pen.

Sarah Williams.

Dellers scrawls the name down and looks at her. 

Sarah. He tries the name out on his tongue and decides he likes the way it feels.

Dellers mumbles something to the redhead and heads towards the witness. The redhead watches as he walks away.

Jerk doesn’t even know my name. The redhead walks back to the other detectives, trying to forget her authority was just superseded by someone who hadn’t even looked at her.

Ms. Williams, Dellers flashes his badge. Why don’t you tell me what you saw?

He…he saw me. Her voice was thin and brittle. The killer saw me! I don’t like being out here with all these people. I am in danger!

Dellers reaches for her arm