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Tales from the Starboard Cafe [Richard Herr] on leondumoulin.nl *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. Belly up to a bar next to a Spacer in most any location in the​.
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She retreated into the house and made a phone call to her husband. After she had completed her call I asked if I could use the phone to call my former employer. I wanted to let him know where I was and ask if there was anything else that needed to be done. I called the Kalamazoo sales lot first. No luck. Then I tried the Grand River lot.

During this period of time Mrs. Reynolds left me standing in the kitchen while she went to her bedroom to change her clothes.

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When she came back out I was still on the phone trying to reach my former boss. She walked past me to her daughters who were playing on the back porch. Begrudgingly, they did as they were told. Now in contact with the Larch lot, I was talking to one of the salesmen, who said the boss was not there, but would be back soon. My back was turned to Mrs. Reynolds and I was not aware of what she was doing. Subconsciously I felt her presence standing directly behind me when I finally hung up the phone. Sensing danger, a form of paranoia I had picked up while in the Marines, I turned quickly and glimpsed something shiny in her hand.

Without hesitation I swung around and struck out toward her thoroughly as I had been taught to do in Karate training. I hit her arm, sending her spinning around; without thinking I slammed my right fist into the side of her head. She dropped immediately to the floor with a thud. There was blood dripping from the point of impact where my fist hit her temple. Her eyes were wide open staring directly at me, appearing frightened and yet unseeing.

This was a sight of death that I had experienced before while serving in the Marine Corps. I have always been ashamed of what I did from this point forward. For the first time in my life I panicked.

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What had I done? What was I going to do?

My only thoughts were to get out of there as quickly as I could. I picked her up and carried her into the bedroom gently laying her on the bed. No sounds emitted from her. She just stared at me, wide-eyed, pleadingly.

I noticed that I got some of her blood on my hands from carrying her into the bedroom and so I went into the bathroom to wash it off. My head was spinning and I noticed a strange buzzing noise that had made its presence within my head. A sense of panic was creeping further into me. I immediately fled from the house and returned to work.

I did manage to calm down during the drive back to the office but I was in a state of shock and disbelief at what had just happened. As I parked and exited the car I managed to slam my finger in the car door busting it wide open. As my finger began to bleed profusely, I reported back to work. The receptionist on duty applied first aid to my finger injury and suggested that I should go to the company doctor for stitches. I took her advice as my finger was beginning to throb and ache.

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Later that same evening the local news announced that A Mrs. Betty Reynolds was reported missing. How could that be? I left her on her bed. The next day her body was found several yards behind her house by a river bank. She had been violently and repeatedly stabbed and left there to die. Needless to say something was wrong. A few days later a composite sketch appeared on the front page of the local newspaper which surprisingly resembled me. My mind was reeling as I tried to figure out what to do next. I had another appointment with the doctor that stitched up my finger and figured I had better take care of that.

While on my way there, my rear view mirror showed that I was being followed by an unmarked police car. While in the doctors office I could see the detectives surrounding the office through the windows. Upon leaving the office I was arrested and taken to the Lansing Police Department. While there I was questioned, fingerprinted and subjected to a police line-up.

I called my wife Pauline and let her know what had happened. She immediately called an attorney. Fred Abood. As luck would have it, another attorney by the name of Leo Farhat was with Abood that night. Farhat had represented me on some old traffic tickets, and suggested that since he was familiar with me he should take the case. Abood relented and this decision probably turned into one of the worse decisions we ever made. One of the fastest and surest ways to find out who your true friends are, is to either get yourself in trouble or convicted of a crime.


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I can assure you it is a very revealing experience. Probably one of the most painful discoveries I made in this area was the complete and total disregard and silence I received from the person I considered to be my dearest and best friend. This is the person I grew up with, partied with, dated with, fought with, and at one point, lived with. This is a person who, at the time of the crime, and afterwards was in a position to help since he was working for the Lansing Police Department.

Had the situation been reversed I would have done anything within my power to help him. Nothing since the day of my arrest. Truly, one of the most painful and saddest things in this world is a broken friendship. Eight and a half months in the Eaton County jail proved to be the most terrifying time of my life. I was placed in a one-man cell within the maximum security section located at the far end of the jail complex. I was totally alone. There were no other prisoners around me. There was no radio, television, magazines or newspapers.

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I was alone on an iron bed, surrounded by cold gray iron bars and cement walls. The highlight of each week during those long months was a fifteen minute visit. On Friday afternoons I was allowed to visit with my wife Pauline through a heavy glass partition. Attorney Farhat seldom came to visit. I expressed my dissatisfaction on numerous occasions as to the way he was handling my case. Words: 96, Language: English. Published: September 10, Belly up to a bar next to a Spacer in most any location in the galaxy, and you can expect to be plunged into a brawl, or worse.

Words: 82, Published: June 28, When he hires a Traffic Manager to make his work easier, he finds the opposite happening. His new employee displays extraordinary skills and perceptions that drag Harry into plots to take over both this world and another that was previously invisible to him. Words: 26, Published: June 23, Joey is as angry as a twelve-year-old can be.