A time for reckoning, p.1
A Time for Reckoning, page 1
Praise for the Tony Valenti Thrillers
* A House on Liberty Street *
Turner hits the mark in a spellbinding, page-turning thriller featuring a worthy underdog hero and prose that tugs at the heartstrings. The author has a great sense of plot and timing. IndieReader 4.5 Star Review
* * *
Neil Turner unravels an ever-deepening drama that exposes the lengths one man will go to protect his family in A House on Liberty Street, a suspenseful and heartfelt thriller. Tapping into evocative themes of family, fatherhood, and second chances, this is a fast-paced read with a clever protagonist ducking and dodging in a classic pursuit of justice. The storytelling is casual but compelling, with memorable characters, intriguing dynamics, and an unpredictable case for readers to piece together. …there are also touching moments of paternal wisdom and honesty that shine… A House on Liberty Street is a neatly penned thriller that will keep readers guessing to the very end. Self-Publishing Review
* Plane in the Lake *
Neil Turner’s latest Tony Valenti thriller, Plane in the Lake, pits the no-nonsense lawyer and his fiery partner against entrenched power in this classic Chicago crime story. Lawyers and liars go hand in hand in the pearly offices of the city’s underworld, as a well-to-do family’s desperate attempt to cover up the truth behind their daughter’s death spirals into something much more. As Valenti is faced with saving not only his firm but his family too, Turner skillfully wields an incisive pen that takes on the seemingly untouchable upper classes and shady crime families. With his trademark breezy style reminiscent of Dennis Lehane, Turner has produced another devourable thriller. Self-Publishing Review ★★★★½
* * *
Plane in the Lake is a satisfying blend of tense thriller and whodunit that calls into question and ultimately strengthens Tony Valenti’s bonds with friends, family, and peers. The novel works on many different levels to involve readers in a puzzle that remains murky up to its surprise conclusion. It’s a fine story that will keep readers (whether newcomers or prior fans of Tony's gritty streetwise style) thoroughly engrossed to the end. D. Donovan, Senior Reviewer, Midwest Book Review
* A Case of Betrayal *
In his third powerful Tony Valenti Thriller, A Case of Betrayal, author Neil Turner puts his charming and brilliant defense attorney back into the fray, where his loyalties to old friends will be tested against his passion for justice. Diving into tough subjects - from the deeply rooted racism in America to the struggles of single fatherhood - this installment stands out from other thrillers; there is real heart in this prose, as well as nuanced character development that keeps the read continually engaging. Packed with suspense, and a page turner from the start. Self-Publishing Review ★★★★½
* A Time for Reckoning *
"A character-driven thriller that fearlessly reveals the dark corners of human nature – misogyny, greed, violence, power, and control. Driven by strong dialogue, unpredictable twists, and more than a dash of colloquial country charm, this savagely honest novel is a stellar addition to the Toni Valenti Thriller series." Self-Publishing Review, ★★★★½
Copyright © 2021 Neil David Turner
Published by Neil Turner Books 2021
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author, except by reviewer, who may quote brief passages in review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by David Prendergast
Library and Archives Canada ISBN 978-1-7775179-8-4 Trade paperback
Library and Archives Canada ISBN 978-1-7775179-9-1 ePub edition
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
BOOK ONE - A House on Liberty Street
BOOK TWO - Plane in the Lake
BOOK THREE - A Case of Betrayal
FREE - Last Exit on the Road to Nowhere
Acknowledgments
About the Author
1
Grazyna Zaluski drops her purse on the mahogany entry table and closes the front door on the world. She smiles at the thought of a glass of wine while luxuriating in the jacuzzi to wash away the stress of a long day. Her smile widens as she contemplates diving back into the Lisa Gardner novel she’s reading. Unfortunately, the day is about to take a turn for the worse.
“Where the hell have you been?”
She spins around and is startled to find her husband, Mark Lewis, glaring down at her. Mark told her he would be home late this evening.
“I expect you to be here when I get home, goddammit!” he growls as he towers over her.
Grazyna backs up a half step, kicks off her Gucci loafers and hangs her Burberry coat on a hanger. “I was at school in Casper.”
“Why?”
She backs off a bit farther. “I need to keep my coursework up to date to retain my student visa.”
Mark’s lip curls in a half smile. “Screw that, Griz. The visa was just a scam to let you stay in the country.”
Initially, the student visa had been a way to stay with Mark beyond the ninety days her tourist visa allowed for, but Grazyna enjoys the classes and is committed to earning her degree—especially now that things have turned sour at home.
“I don’t think of it as a scam,” she says.
“Think you’re gonna make something out of yourself with a poetry degree, Griz?” Mark asks in a mocking tone. When she doesn’t reply, he adds, “Stay away from that school.”
“I will not.”
He steps closer and wraps a hand around her forearm to hold her in place. “You’re only in this country for as long as I want you here.”
Grazyna stares back defiantly. “I can stay as long as I’m in school.”
Mark’s fingers tighten painfully around her wrist, and his eyes narrow while the skin around his mouth tightens into a snarl. “Goddammit, Griz, you’ll do what I say!”
She feels more anger than fear as she struggles to shake his hand loose. “I hate you calling me Griz. Call me by my proper name!”
They’ve had this argument time and time again. Pronouncing her name properly—Gra-zeena—is apparently too much effort for him, so he calls her Griz.
“I’ll call you whatever I want. Speaking of your stupid name, it sounds foreign, and folks around here don’t take kindly to foreigners. It’s time you started dressing and sounding American. The Lewis family has an image to uphold in this county.”
Mark and his precious family.
“I have an image to uphold!” he adds.
Ah yes, the heir to the Lewis family throne. Mark is fond of bragging that his family owns Converse County lock, stock, and barrel.
Grazyna stiffens in anger. “You talk as if I am a stain on your precious image!”
“That’s how Mom and Dad see it,” he replies with a smirk.
As if her Polish heritage is dirt to be swept aside. Grazyna yanks her arm free and steps away, fighting to keep the tears she feels welling up from spilling out of her eyes. What does a woman say to a husband who has so little respect for who and what she is?
Mark’s insulting words wipe away any thought of tears. “Don’t speak to me that way!” she snaps back.
He steps closer, backing her up against the wall. “Time for a reality check, honey. You’re a two-bit internet curiosity that I rescued from a life of mediocrity in a backward country. The song-and-dance routine is amusing, but the act is getting stale. Time to grow up.”
“I’m your wife!” Grazyna snaps. “I deserve respect.”
“Respect? You’re a great piece of ass and you can be fun, but never forget that I can replace you with another two-bit whore in a flash.”
She has no idea what a “two-bit horror” is in this context even her excellent English left her unprepared for the waves of Americanisms that weren’t covered in her formal language training, but she suspects it is an insult.
“You’re nothing!” he continues as he squeezes her breasts painfully. “You’re here because of these.” Then he reaches around to grab her rear in both hands so he can rub himself against her while he puts his lips to her ear. “And this.”
Grazyna recoils as he pulls her tighter, lifts her off her feet, and forces a knee between her legs as he grinds.
“I’ve had enough of your little princess bullshit, Griz. Start behaving like a proper wife. I figured people in the old country still taught their women how to do that, for Christ’s sake. Guess not, so I’ll damn well teach you what’s expected of a good Wyoming country wife.”
He suddenly releases her, letting her crash to the floor on her tailbone. The tears come in earnest as she stares up at him in horror while he grabs her Valentino Garavani purse, yanks out her wallet, and rips out her credit cards and bank card. He pauses, then takes her passport, as well. “If you’re a good girl, maybe you’ll get these back. If not, well…”
Grazyna watches helplessly as he walks away. What is she going to do? She has next to no money of her own. The realization of how utterly dependent she is on Mark hits home full force. How has she gotten herself into this position? More importantly, is there a way out?
2
I walk out of my office in search of coffee a few minutes after nine o’clock on a Tuesday morning, and find my partner and our receptionist chatting in the lobby of Brooks and Valenti, Paupers at Law. I, Tony Valenti, am listed last on our masthead, coming a close second behind my partner, Penelope Brooks, who is the only other lawyer employed here. We’ve already said our good mornings, so I head straight to the Mr. Coffee machine.
“No idea what this is about?” Penelope asks as I pour.
“Not a clue, and the curiosity is killing me,” I reply.
“Guess you’ll know soon enough.”
True enough. Peter Zaluski, the former village manager of Cedar Heights, Illinois, the modest Chicago suburb where I live and work, has made an appointment to see me on “a family matter.” Why on earth Zaluski—a man I helped force out of office a couple of years ago—is considering hiring Brooks and Valenti is beyond me. But, as Penelope says, I’ll know in twenty or thirty minutes.
“Do you know where he’s working nowadays?” she asks.
“Nope. Haven’t heard a thing about him since the night he lost the village manager job. Maybe he’s coming to off me?” I suggest with a grin.
“Not funny, partner. You tend to put yourself in jeopardy a little more often than I like.”
I spread my hands expansively. “But I’m still alive and kicking.”
“So far, Tony. So far.”
“Not that talking about my potential demise isn’t a fun way to start the workweek,” I say with a wink. “But let’s talk about something else. How was your weekend? Did you and Becky do anything interesting?”
“Went out for dinner, went for a hike, did our usual Sunday dinner with Mom.”
Becky is Penelope’s partner. Mom is Joan Brooks, who works in our office. Joan is our receptionist/legal assistant/paralegal/office mother. She earned her legal chops working in the office of her father, a local judge in rural Kansas. Mother and daughter are solid five-foot-tall dynamos imbued with bushels of country smarts and wholesomeness. A day seldom goes by during which I fail to coax a smile and laugh out of Joan, who is nowhere near as taciturn as she likes to let on. I follow Penelope into Joan’s reception area and make a beeline for the coffee pot.
“Your daughter is a little concerned that my ten o’clock client may be coming to harm me, Joan. You won’t let that happen, right?”
She perks up. “Will he be armed?”
I top off my mug and shrug. “I don’t know. You’ll check when he arrives?”
“Of course I will, Mr. Valenti. If he isn’t armed, I’ll lend him a gun. I’m thinking a shotgun to get it over with quickly.”
My eyes cut to Penelope. “We pay for this insolence?”
Penelope laughs and says, “She does other stuff, too.”
I poke my bottom lip out in a pout as I empty two Splenda packets and a couple of creamers into my coffee. “You two will look back on this moment and be consumed with a lifetime of bitter guilt if Mr. Zaluski harms me.”
Penelope shares a long, thoughtful look with Joan. “Think so, Mom?”
Joan studies me for a moment, then shakes her head. “Nah. Can I have his office?”
I harrumph, finish stirring my coffee, and stalk to my office, pausing at the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I need a little time alone to lick my emotional wounds. Please let me know when Mr. Zaluski arrives.”
I shake my head and chuckle after closing my door, then answer a text from my sixteen-year-old daughter, Brittany, reminding me that she has a volleyball game after school and should be home by six thirty. She closes by informing me that she “expects a nice, hot dinner to be waiting,” her way of reminding me that it’s my night to cook. I’m a single dad raising a teenager in the Valenti family home I grew up in. I text back that I do remember, adding a reminder that my girlfriend, Trish, will be joining us.
My thoughts stray to the man who is coming to see me this morning. Peter Zaluski was once the target of my animosity and rage after the village tried to throw my parents out of their home to make room for a shopping center and condo development. It turned out that, while he was a willing participant, Zaluski was not the driving force behind the effort that I first imagined him to be. The true villain was the mayor of Cedar Heights at the time, a small-time politician who is currently on trial for corruption. If I recall correctly, Zaluski is married with a passel of kids and is active in his Catholic parish. He had a lengthy career in local public administration. I wonder what he’s doing now—and why he wants to see me.
I turn my attention back to the file on my desk. We’ve been retained to represent a group of disgruntled long-term tenants being tossed out of their apartment block to make room for a new condo development. The building owner is, of course, within his rights to redevelop. The problem is that he hasn’t lifted a finger to help his tenants relocate, as he promised to do in his redevelopment application. Cases like this are a pain, but it’s the kind of work Brooks and Valenti—lawyers to little people and lost causes—is founded upon. It’s also a lot less nerve-racking than the wilder cases we occasionally stumble into. We just finished defending the brother of a friend in a murder trial a couple of weeks ago. I’m still decompressing from that. Just the thought of the unexpectedly hairy moments that were part and parcel of the case sends a shiver down my spine. I sigh and run a hand through my wavy black hair, a mop that prompted a high school half-wit to christen me “Brillo Head.” Sad to say, the name stuck until I finally escaped it by running away to get my law degree from Marquette University in Milwaukee.
Joan pokes her head in five minutes later. “Mr. Zaluski is here.”
I look up. “Is he armed?”
She slaps a hand on her forehead. “Darn it! I forgot to check. Hopefully.”
“What have I done to make you hate me so?”
“We don’t have time to work through the laundry list of your transgressions, Mr. Valenti,” she replies with a sweet smile. “Perhaps after your appointment. Shall I send Mr. Zaluski in?”
