Drago #6: And the City Burned

Art Spinella

Description

Only eight hours tip doom.

Nick and Sal are faced with a madman who wants nothing more than to burn Bandon to the ground – for the second time since 1936.

It's a race against the clock. Unravel clues leading to the arsonist's plan. Call on truckers to battle the inferno. Capture the crazed pyromaniac in a mad-dash train chase.

And save a town from an impending firestorm that could kill hundreds and leave Bandon once again in smoldering rubble.

Sujets

• Detective
• Mystery
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: eBookIt.com
• Date de parution: 12 juin 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781456617288
• Langue: English

Extrait

www.DragoMysterySeries.com
 
Skype cnwmr1 to have a video chat with Art about Drago books, Bandon or any other topic!

Just a few reviews and comments…
Art,
My Dad attended Colby College with Robert B. Parker and I grew up a fan of Spenser. But why hire Spenser when DRAGO works for free! You have a new fan, and yes, I know what that's short for. I can't say enough good things about your creations, so let me just say please don't stop.
Sincerely, 
David Perham, Eugene, Oregon
 
Review of Drago #4 in Northwest Book Lovers newsletter:
"…If you’re needing some wickedly fun books for that beach or camping trip, toss this one in, but be prepared to pull an all nighter as you flip through the pages. It’s not rocket science folks; it’s just a damn good read." -- Richard Morris
 
This is a great series. Judi Wutzke, Owner, …and Books, Too! , Clarkston, Washington
 
I love the Drago series, each story is exciting and full of surprises. This is a great book to purchase for yourself or as a gift; it's hard to put down and leaves you looking forward to future books featuring Nick Drago and his mystery solving friends. – Tracy A., California
 
Just wanted to let you know that I enjoyed your books. However Drago and his buddy sure do eat a lot. Looking forward to book 3. – Diane M., Michigan
 
Great read!... Started reading and quickly got to the point I couldn’t put it down… -- ST , Oregon
 
Darn you, Drago. You made me late for work! – MJ, Oregon
 
…a 3-D jigsaw puzzle of clues… (Western World newspaper)
 
Great read capturing my attention from page 1. – CGM, Oregon
 
(My wife) liked your book… – R.L. , U.K.
 
Great books, next?? – FG, Oregon
 
Love your books!!!! – D. B. Oregon
 
I always like your story lines and my sister, her neighbor and her boss over at Hauser Store are also great fans of yours!!! My Sis doesn't do computers so I always have to keep her updated on what you are up to next!!! lol – E. P. Coos Bay

DEDICATION
For log-truck drivers – The key link in the chain from forests to mills that provides Americans with everything from toothpicks to bathroom tissue; from houses to guitars.
 
And, of course , Cookie.
 
SPECIAL THANKS
Jeri “Eagle Eye” Harris – For catching those blasted typos and factoid glitches
Bandon Historical Society
Dr. John A. DiMaggio – Podiatrist extraordinaire
Martin Callery – Oregon International Port of Coos Bay
Tom Foster – Coos Bay Rail Link
 
 
 
DRAGO #6:
And the
City burned
 
by Art Spinella

For a free autographed Drago Bookmark, email your address and name to [e-mail]
To have your copy of Drago autographed, mail it to
PO Box 744, Bandon, Oregon 97411
Include your mailing address. We’ll pay return postage.
 
E-books available at most electronic-book web sites or go to www.DragoMysterySeries.com for a link to our web store where you can download in any of multiple formats depending on your electronic-reader device.
 
Copyright 2013 by Art Spinella
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Art Spinella. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Most businesses and locations, however, are real. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. For a closer look at Bandon, Oregon, go to www.Bandon.com .
 
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
http://www.eBookIt.com
 
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-1728-8
 
Cover design: AMS with P opsicolor
Printed in the United States of America
PREFACE
 
I know quite a few locals. They’re an independent lot.
While researching the history of the 1936 Bandon fire, I’d frequently ask myself if today’s residents would respond to such a massive threat with the same selfless acts. Would they go out of their way to help neighbors or strangers as much as our residents did in 1936?
Family came first, of course, but there are numerous accounts of “family” meaning anyone within the figurative arm’s reach: Sharing resources from food to clothing, allowing acquaintances to live in a home not destroyed by the fire, coming to the rescue of people – strangers – in danger.
And what about the kids?
There are also numerous accounts of youngsters aged 9 and 10 who took charge when there were no adults to direct their actions. Country kids raised to be self sufficient, if necessary.
Teens who went into crisis-management mode and protected the homestead because parents were working or tending to other business away from the farm or ranch.
Businesspeople who turned their fortune into part of the relief effort, providing shelter and food to the homeless.
One of the amazing pre-FEMA historical points was the immediate assistance from both the State of Oregon – the Governor directed relief efforts from his desk for the duration of the fire and its aftermath – and the Federal Government including orders from Franklin D. Roosevelt to government agencies to amass its resources to help rebuild Bandon.
Chambers of Commerce around the state provided tons of equipment and store stock to burned-out Bandon businesses so they could once again be part of the local economy.
Lumber mills, especially the Moore Mill in Bandon, made sure the sudden increase in demand for wood products didn’t turn into gouging, instead either offering discounted prices or pre-fire prices to residents and agencies attempting to rebuild the town.
Would that happen today?
As I said, I know many Bandon residents and have little doubt they would act in the same selfless manner if the time ever came to do so. While we still have heated discussions at the coffee shop or write scathing letters to the editor or plaster our cars with different political party bumper stickers or quibble over being “Bandonites” or “Bandonians,” when push comes to shove, We Are Bandon.
ABOUT THIS BOOK: Most of those portions headed “1936” are from real accounts of the Bandon fire from the book “ Bandon Burns! ” I’ve rewritten some of the first-hand reports for style. But the book itself is a wonderful insight into the ’36 fire on a human level. “ Bandon Burns! ” was compiled by Jim Proehl and Carol Acklin based on Bandon Historical Society files. Copies are available from the Historical Society (see websites at the back of this novel).
I’ve clearly taken some literary license in this, the sixth Drago mystery. Like Cabot Cove ( Murder She Wrote ), not a lot of mayhem really happens in Bandon.
But it could.
ABOUT MAINE: And for those of you who took umbrage at Nick’s comment “No one important came from Maine” in Drago #5 and sent long lists of high profile people from that state, I have but one thing to say: Don’t blame me! It was Nick who said it. Complain to him. I love Maine.
-- Art Spinella
PROLOGUE
 
Sal and I sat across from each other at McFarlin’s, a pizza and pitcher of Hef between us.
“You ready for a round of Name Links?”
“One, two or five seconds.”
“Two.”
Sal and I reached into our respective pockets and pulled out quarters. We always carry quarters. Donuts are sold in increments of 25 cents.
Since it was my idea, “I start.”
Sal nodded agreement, leaned forward, steely eyes staring at me. Tree-trunk arms on the restaurant table, hands wrapped around a frosty mug of brew. Ready to pounce.
I looked him in the eyes, squinted hard, looking mean and said, “George Washington.”
I pushed a quarter to the center of the table.
He fired back, “George Bush,” his quarter clinked on mine.
My return, “Herbert W. Bush.”
Another quarter.
The volley had begun with 25 cents going to the pot with each response.
“Herbert Hoover.”
“J. Edgar Hoover.”
“Edgar Allan Poe.”
“George Allen.”
“George Foreman.”
“George Foreman, the son.”
“George Foreman the second son.”
“George Foreman the third son.”
“King George.”
“Martin Luther King.”
“Luther Andros.”
“Lex Luthor.”
“Martin Luther, the preacher.”
“Mary Martin.”
“Martin Sheen.”
“Bishop Sheen.”
“Joey Bishop.”
“Joey Badass.”
Sal slapped the table. “Challenge.”
“Hip hop artist. Hah! Look it up.”
Sal Googled it. ”How’d you know that?”
“I am a musical genius.” I swiped the pot of quarters toward me.
“Ready?”
Sal nodded.
“Little Abner.”
“Abner Doubleday.”
One-thousand and one, one-thousand and two. My mind was blank.
“I got nothin’.”
Sal laughed. “Well, there’s Abner Cotto, the boxer. Abner Mares Martinez, another boxer.”
Sal slid the small pot to his side of the table.
My bearded buddy took a long draught of beer, leaned back and in a quiet voice said, “Tom Cruise.”
CHAPTER ONE
EIGHT HOURS, EIGHT MINUTES
It perched in the center of Forte’s desk looking as out of place as a cow on a Beverly Hills driveway.
The Bandon police chief crooked a finger at me and pointed to the backside of the five gallon propane tank.
Sal and I walked to the side of his desk. Duct taped to the rear of the tank were three sticks of dynamite sprouting a pair of black wires running to a small electronic timer like those used to turn a house lamp on and off at set hours.
“Holy Mother of God!” I backed away from the desk. “Is that thing live?”
Forte nodded, casually tipped back in his chair. “Living and breathing.”
“Well, crap, should you have it on your desk?” I backed away another couple of feet.
“Probably not, Nick.”
Sal walked to the propane tank, gripped both black wires in his huge hand and tugged.
“ Don’t do that!” I was now across the room, next to the door. I’m smart enough to know I can’t outrun an explosion, but there is a piece of everyone’s brain that in conditions like this says, “ Get the hell out of here!”
Sal held the two strands of wire and tugged again, this time pulling them free of the dynamite cap.
“All fixed,” he said.
“ Are you nuts?”
Sal grinned. “Some say I am.” Balling the wire and tossing it to Forte, “But this is so crude and easy to deactivate, it’s almost a joke.” The big man plopped into a guest chair next to Fo