Operation Masquerade
A Rent Beacham Mystery
Release date: Fall 2025
Chapter 1
“What’s this?” Rent Beacham muttered, puzzlement creasing
his brow as he stared at a letter-size envelope, his address handwritten on the
front.
Has somebody died?
He recognized the shaky cursive but checked the return
address for confirmation—Friday Harbor, WA 98250.
“Aunt Edith,” he said aloud.
Rent had gone to the mail kiosk and withdrawn its contents,
anticipating the usual junk mail and the screaming headlines of political
propaganda that foreshadowed the coming midterm election.
He waved to Ralph, the security guard, and
headed back toward his condo at the end of the alley. He sorted the mail as he
walked, then stopped to examine the envelope again.
No, she would have called.
A short chirp of a car horn brought him back to the moment.
He stepped aside and let it pass, offering a nod in greeting.
His neighbor, Esteban Lopez, parked and joined Rent in the
alley. “I heard about the layoffs at the newspaper. You safe? Or get the ax?”
“Hey, Steve,” Rent replied with a shake of his head, addressing
the man using the preferred anglicized rendition of his given name. “I don’t
know for certain, but the rumor mill has been grinding.”
“Tough business these days, what with the social media
oligarchs dominating the news outlets.”
“Yeah, ain’t it though.”
“Well, good luck,” said Lopez, who worked as a librarian at
the nearby University of San Diego. “We need solid investigative journalism to
keep people honest, especially the politicians. Your exposé on welfare fraud
was a masterstroke.”
“Kind of you to say.”
“Got anything else brewing?”
“Just the usual crap at city hall, the never-ending homeless
crisis, and the lawsuits over ADUs,” Rent said, glancing at his mail.
“A-B-ooz?” he questioned, adjusting
one of his hearing aids. He’d been hearing impaired most of his life and relied
on the aid of lip reading to comprehend another’s speech.
Rent looked up and faced him directly. “A-D-U. Accessory
dwelling units to address the housing shortage.”
The man nodded. “Oh, right, upscale granny flats. At least
we don’t have to worry about that here. No backyards.”
Rent chuckled. “Actually, there are also what they call
Junior ADUs. Turn your garage or master bedroom into an ADU.”
Lopez crinkled his brow. “Hmm. I could always use the extra
cash. But what about parking?”
“That is the question, isn’t it.”
“Well, keep up the good work. See you at the hot tub later?”
“Nah, I’ll be going out.”
“Hot date, eh?” the man queried, accompanied by a
mischievous grin and a wink.
“Something like that,” Rent replied and continued on to the
garage. Once up the stairs and in the living room, he opened the envelope from
Aunt Edith. Actually, his great-aunt, the youngest sister of his father’s
mother.
Inside, he found a folded newspaper clipping with a sticky
note attached: You might find this of interest. Aunt Edith.
He unfolded the clipping and read the headline:
Body at Construction Site:
Man Missing for 27 Years?
So, somebody did die.
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