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    The Long Honeymoon
    The Long Honeymoon
    The Long Honeymoon
    Ebook238 pages2 hours

    The Long Honeymoon

    By Gary Kuyper

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    About this ebook

    Don’t let the title mislead you – this is definitely NOT a romance novel. As the blurb on the cover suggests: ‘A book for the woman who wants to change her man - and for the man that wants to murder his wife.’

    The easy part for Chris Summers was convincing his best friend to help him murder his wife, but little did they know that their actions were about to open an extra-large can of worms that would see them on a rollercoaster ride spiralling towards chaos and uncertain disaster.

    Along for the ride are dirty cops, corrupt corporals, the DEA, SWAT, Homicide and, last but not least, the Russian Mafia.

    50 short TNT-charged chapters make this novel an easy read, but definitely a page-turner that will be difficult to put down once started.

    Be advised - there is a spattering of profanity throughout the novel which is used to add to the realism and not there simply for cheap thrills, shock value or sensationalism. We hope readers will understand and accept this necessity and that they will not be offended by this rather important inclusion.

    This is True Romance meets Pulp Fiction (The movies – not the books).

    A neo-noir novel that will keep you guessing to the end.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherGary Kuyper
    Release dateDec 4, 2019
    ISBN9780463557679
    The Long Honeymoon
    Author

    Gary Kuyper

    Gary Kuyper began his professional literary career writing self-help and general interest articles for Daan Retief Publishers who produced a monthly book for their woman’s club called Woman’s Forum. These articles would sometimes require research and had titles as diverse as The Human Brain and Body Painting!Being a professional photographer on a part-time basis Gary has also managed to have his articles on photography (With accompanying photographs) published in books and magazines. He has also done some free-lance photography and photojournalism projects for numerous local newspapers.Over the past four years he has constantly managed to be one of the top finalists in the Nova Short Story Competition (A competition for budding writers of science fiction and/or fantasy).Last year (2009) Gary had the pleasure of seeing The Devil's Little Tadpoles grace the pages of the local SF & Fantasy Fanzine Probe.He is an avid film buff and amateur film maker. A few years ago I managed to take first prize in the SA Ten Best Film Makers Competition with a short film entitled The Crimson Cobra - An action-packed martial arts / superhero movie using some of the very talented local artists.He is a qualified prosthetics make-up artist and has used this talent on both amateur and professional productions. He has also appeared on television in a youth program especially made for enlightening people in the art of special effects make-up.Gary has a rather excellent general knowledge being not only an avid writer but reader of any material that is able to stimulate him cerebrally.He taught himself Adobe Photoshop and has become adapt and proficient enough at utilizing the software to such a degree that he has managed to sell a number of creations to various institutes and organizations. He is particularly fond of a logo designed for the Krazy Mug Coffee Shop and several covers that have graced the front of Probe.Gary has a vast knowledge of music and has appeared on the local Television Music Quiz Show Note for Note where he was able to win a substantial amount of prize money.In 2008 he entered the SF / Fantasy Mini Radio Play Competition and took first prize with his The Adventures of Captain Max Power of the Intergalactic Police - an obvious homage to the early Flash Gordon radio series’. A number of skilled professionals are now planning to produce Max to CD and have it aired on a local radio station (SAfm).All his literary and photojournalistic accomplishments have been done on a part-time basis due to the fact that his full time career is lecturing mathematics as well as engineering science at a Technical College. Although this is a most fulfilling profession, it has long been Gary's ideal to become a full-time writer – especially of fantasy, science fiction and horror novels.He has recently published his first full-length fantasy novel - The Chronicles of Baltrath: The DARK WIZARDS.As a considerable amount of time and effort has been expended in building the world of Baltrath, Gary has begun work on a sequel to The Dark Wizards.

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      Book preview

      The Long Honeymoon - Gary Kuyper

      Prologue

      Two blocks down and one block up from the church Chris pulled over and untied the collection of old cans and shoes attached to the bumper.

      Fucking Brad! he said with a grin as he slid in behind the wheel again.

      Language! said Rita, and meant it.

      This was the same woman that had commanded him to talk dirty to her and then declared her pleasure with expletives that would have reddened the face of a hardened sailor.

      You’re serious?

      I don’t want that sort of talk in my house! Not with a baby on the way!

      The words ‘I now pronounce you man and wife!’ still ringing in his ears, and already his luxury condo had become her sole possession.

      That was the beginning of the long honeymoon.

      Chapter 1

      Conditioned

      "I want her dead! Dead, dead, fu...dead!"

      Chris had wanted to say, ‘Fucking dead!’ but two years of conditioning had twisted his psyche into a coiled but obedient cobra.

      Sweet, petite Reet? frowned Brad. You’re kidding me?

      You have no idea. She’s Doctor Jekyll and Sister Hyde. She’s a totally different person when we’re alone. It’s like some sort of switch is flipped when no one else is around.

      You’re kidding?

      Chris lifted the beer and eyed it. God, look at me. I’m terrified to take a sip. She’s not even here and I’m afraid.

      You’re kidding.

      It’s like my balls have been cut off. I ain’t a man anymore. I’m like some docile, neutered lion trained to jump thru hoops.

      "You’re really kidding, right?"

      "Stop saying that! "

      "You’re terrified of Rita? She’s an inch away from being called a midget."

      Not quite. But yeah, okay, she’s tiny. Still, you have no idea. The Tasmanian Devil would flee in terror.

      If it’s that bad, just divorce the bitch?

      "Hey? retorted Chris as Rita’s conditioning kicked in. He was almost about to reprimand his best friend for using such an intensely degrading term about his wife. There was a moment of silence as he gathered his thoughts. I can’t. She’d take me to the cleaners. Besides, she knows things about the business that could get me into some serious sh...trouble."

      You’re kidding?

      "I really wish you’d stop saying that?"

      What sort of things does she know?

      "For a few years now I’ve been paying the taxman less than I should - a lot less. Get my drift?"

      Shit, yeah.

      And then there’s little Sarah. Almost two and cute as a button. Rita would make sure I never get to see her again. Hell, almost two and already Rita’s doing everything in her power to poison the kid’s mind against me.

      I know it ain’t right, but maybe you should try slapping her around a bit. Rita, I mean, not Sarah. I hear that works wonders on some stubborn women.

      Are you kidding? If I did that she’d just wait till I’m fast asleep and flatten my face with a cast-iron frying pan. His lips pulled back into a snarl. God knows I’d love to... He clenched and raised his fist till the knuckles whitened. Sometimes I want to smash that smug look right down her nagging and demanding throat. The fist relaxed and dropped. The docile lion reappeared. Besides, if I left any marks on her, she’d only use them to turn all our friends against me.

      "Not me, bro. You know that would never happen. We’ve been thru too much together. Not me."

      That’s why I need your help. That’s why I’m here.

      What can I do? I’ve already given you all the advice I could think of.

      Help me…kill her.

      You’re kidding.

      I’m dead serious. We’ve both killed before. We can do it again.

      "That was war, man. That was for a cause."

      "So is this, my brother, so is this. Please, I need the killer. I need those sniper skills of yours."

      "I’m SWAT now! I’m the fuckin’ police, man. I could have you put away for just asking me to do that shit."

      I’m begging you, Brad. You have no idea how bad it is. You gotta help me.

      Brad shook his head violently. "No way, man. I don’t want no part of this. I ain’t gonna be accomplice to murder. I’m your best friend. I’d die for you, but don’t ask me to fry for you."

      Nobody’s gonna fry - not if we plan it right. Sure, you’re police now, but that means you’ll know how to do it without getting caught.

      Didn’t you hear what I just said? Ain’t gonna happen, man.

      I know how to change your mind.

      Ain’t gonna happen.

      We’ll see.

      Ain’t gonna happen.

      As Chris pulled out of Brad’s driveway he realized that he hadn’t taken a single sip from the bottle of beer.

      Chapter 2

      The Darker Department

      Homicide Detective Clark Connor climbed in up front of the Uber vehicle as it stopped outside Kenny’s Bar and Grill. He hated to sit in the back seat of cabs. He was an extrovert, a naturally friendly and outspoken person - and even more so with a few stiff whiskies to ease his harrowed mind after witnessing some of Southern California’s criminally minded handiwork. Yet, today, his slight inebriation was the result of both a celebrating and a mourning. Mike Dodds, who had been his senior partner for almost thirty-five-years, would no longer be joining him in his investigations.

      The cab driver had noticed Clark’s shoulder holster inside his jacket and was showing signs of apprehension.

      Relax, pal, said Clark flashing his badge. I’m one of the good guys.

      Oh, thank God, he said in an accent that even a seasoned detective had trouble placing.

      Are ya?

      Eh?

      One of the good guys?

      Yes, sir.

      Ya sure?

      Yes, sir.

      Ya sure ya’re not an illegal?

      Yes, sir. He started to rummage in the glove compartment. I got all my papers right here.

      Relax, said Clark shutting the glove compartment. The driver hastily retracted his hand. I’m just yanking yer chain. Besides, extradition and deportation ain’t my department. He pointed at the street. Hit the road Jack.

      The cabby eased the vehicle into the flowing traffic and said, I only started this job two weeks ago. Thank God for GPS and the fact that you also drive on the right-hand side.

      That’s one heavy accent, fella. Where you from?

      I’m an Ossi.

      "An Australian?"

      No, noo! An East Berliner.

      Ah, from behind zee wall.

      The wall was already down when I was born, but my parents suffered much of the…disconnection.

      "Your folks spoke German then?"

      "It was more a mish-mash of German and an old dialect known as Crimean Gothic."

      Wow, that does sound old. No wonder I couldn’t place you.

      Yes.

      "Still, you are German?"

      Yes.

      What’s yer name?

      Gustav Johanssen.

      You like pork chops, Gustav Johanssen?

      Of course, with sauerkraut.

      Nah, I prefer applesauce.

      Ah, yes, apfelmus.

      Right! And not that heavily preserved shit you buy in a jar from the import stores. My wife makes the best apfelmus in the whole goddamned state – it’s one of the reasons I married her.

      Gustav laughed and said, They say the way to a man’s heart is through the stomach.

      Is it true that ‘Ich bin ein Berliner’ actually means, ‘I am a doughnut?’

      "Ah, the famous JFK speech. No, it’s just, how you American’s say, urban legend."

      Bullshit!

      Eh?

      "I prefer the word bullshit to urban legend."

      Gustav chuckled and asked, Is it true that all cops like doughnuts or is that also just…bullshit?

      It’s always bullshit when people generalize. And finger-pointers do so love to generalize.

      I’m pretty new in the area, but I should have guessed that you were a cop.

      Oh?

      "Yes, the other drivers tell me that a lot of the guys from the Thirty-First hang out at Kenny’s."

      Correcto mundo, Gus. We’re just round the corner. It’s a great boon being a plain-clothes cop. No need to visit the locker room at quitting time to change. Still, in my line, there is no real quitting time. I’m basically a twenty-four-seven sucker.

      Oh? So, if extradition and deportation is not your department, then what?

      I deal with the darker side of human nature.

      Oh?

      "Yip, that gory and gruesome side called murder."

      "Murder?"

      "Murder, my foreign friend - murder most foul."

      Chapter 3

      Blueprint for Murder

      I had no idea, man, said Brad gazing at the cellphone which had now become pleasantly silent. I honestly thought you were just exaggerating.

      I recorded those three tantrums just over the past week, informed Chris. "That’s how it has been for me, constantly, since the wedding. I feel like I’m walking on eggs the whole time. I gotta think twice before I say or do anything because I’m afraid I might set her off. Even so, I still end up being bombarded by her caustic remarks on a daily basis. There’s just no pleasing the bi…that woman…at all!"

      Damn, said Brad still staring at the phone in shocked enlightenment.

      And the more accommodating I try to be the more demanding and critical she becomes. I’m no more than some wounded beast just ripe for the slaughter. I can’t do anything right in her eyes.

      Damn, said Brad wide-eyed and agape.

      So, will you help me?

      There was only the slightest hesitation before Brad said, Oh, yeah, but we gotta plan it carefully.

      I already got it all worked out. It’s flawless.

      ‘The best-laid plans of mice and men.’

      Flawless.

      Tell me.

      At least twice a month she visits her folks at Robert’s Military Base.

      Our old stomping grounds.

      Right. I used to have a soft spot for the place, but now it just reminds me of where I first met Rita.

      Her old man introduced you. Colonel ‘TNT’ Tucker. I love that old bastard. Taught me all I know.

      Right. I like him too, and Joanne, my mom-in-law. Not too often you hear of someone who gets on well with their in-laws. They’re both great. Their daughter, on the other hand, is another matter entirely. The only pleasure she gives me is in all the plans I’ve been making to kill her.

      "The only pleasure? How’s your sex life?"

      "I used to love it when she asked me to talk dirty and got kinda rowdy in bed. That turned me on…a lot. Now, it’s more like doing it with one of those blow-up dolls. The best I’ve gotten from her is a restrained grunt when she cums. It’s like she’s suddenly too prim and proper to voice her pleasure loudly."

      Damn! When you first told me about Rita’s loud fucking habits I was hoping the four of us would be having many pleasurable sessions together.

      "Me too. But you saw the way she freaked out when she learned that you and Darlene are into the swinging scene."

      Yep, telling her was definitely a big mistake.

      I thought she’d find the idea exciting…tempting.

      We all did.

      As you saw, she went ballistic. And, as you just said, telling her that little gem of info was the biggest mistake of my life, well, that and marrying her in the first place.

      Have you screwed around since getting married?

      No, besides I would have told you if I had.

      Of course. Does she know you’ve screwed Darlene?

      God, no! And don’t ever mention it either. I wish I had recorded one of her tantrums where she mentions just what she thinks of you and your wife.

      Damn, so that sweet petite Reet routine has just been a show around us.

      You better believe it. She considers you both low-class, perverted, degenerates. Chris pouted before adding, She suspects, very strongly I might add, that I’ve screwed your wife, but I deny it vehemently. If the truth came out, who knows what damage she would be capable of causing.

      But that happened even before you had met her.

      Makes no difference.

      Then we need to cause the damage first.

      Exactly.

      Tell me the plan already?

      Right. As I was saying, ‘At least twice a month she visits her folks at Robert’s Military Base.’ There are two bridges on the way to the base. The one closest to the base is constructed from steel beams and trusses. Most vehicles will just ricochet off the barrier. The second bridge is…

      The old wooden one? interjected Brad.

      "Yes, the old wooden one with an old wooden guardrail. A car travelling at speed will smash thru it like a fist thru a wet paper bag. Especially something like the Chev Camaro Coupe that she loves to drive so fast and furious."

      How…

      A burst front right tire will do the trick.

      It took Brad only a moment’s thought to say, You want me to pop her tire with the sniper rifle.

      Exactly!

      Front right?

      After a short deliberation Chris said, Right! And you gotta do it when she’s about a third in. That way she’ll hopefully breech the barrier at about midway.

      Where the river is deepest.

      Yep.

      What about Sarah? What if…

      On the day, I’ll take my daughter to visit Alice.

      Your sister?

      "Yep. That way I’ll also have an alibi if anybody wants to know where I was when the fortunate incident occurred.

      Rita usually goes to the base on Saturday mornings around nine hundred hours and returns around seventeen hundred. That means there will be enough light for you as well.

      I need the sun behind me. That means…I’ll have to do it when she’s returning home from the base.

      "My thoughts exactly. It will also give you the time needed to prepare yourself. You should take a trip out there and…case the joint - see what will work best for you."

      A full-metal jacket round might not work. It may only puncture the tire, go straight thru without causing enough damage. We need the tire to blow. I could modify some of the lead points into dum-dums.

      No need, said Chris and removed six cartridges from his pocket and placed them neatly in a row next to the damning cellphone. Not if you use these little buggers.

      Brad immediately recognized the color-coding on the rounds. Explosive, incendiary rounds! I know you own a gunshop but I heard they were illegal to make or import."

      "I kept a few from our last tour. I

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