The Whirligig of Time, Book 3 of the Pantera Series is available now. Here is a sample early chapter.

Blanton stood in the darkness of an alley across the street from The Watering Hole. He was known only by his last name to almost everyone he knew. He’d been called Blanton since his days playing high school football, and he knew people who’d known him for years who had probably never heard his first name. Only his family could be assured of knowing it, but he’d not seen most of them since leaving home eight years ago.

Now it was dark, and Blanton could see inside the bar through the plate-glass window. He watched as Detective Tony Pantera enjoyed his drink.

Pantera knew these men in the bar well, and it showed. Their shared laughter and interactions suggested good friends coming together for drinks. This did not bother Blanton. In fact, it made him smile. If Pantera had a drinking problem, then all the better. Alcohol numbed the brain even when those who imbibed were not drinking. It had lasting effects, and the fact that most cops drank made him wonder how they ever solved a crime.

Blanton intended his own crimes to be completely unsolvable. All criminals did, but he would accomplish it. He had planned the perfect murder over the past ten years. He would get his revenge, and he would see to it that Pantera ended up on the case. In fact, that would be the easiest part of his meticulously considered plot.

He wanted Pantera because Pantera was considered by many in the city to be the best detective on the force. Blanton had asked around, nonchalantly of course, in the bars where most of the cops hung out. This wasn’t one of them, and Blanton admired Pantera for frequenting a bar few cops used. This suggested the detective was an individualist, someone who didn’t go with the crowd. Blanton liked that.

He’d seen Pantera in The Watering Hole with only one other cop—another detective named Overmeyer who worked with Pantera at his precinct. As far as he could tell, those were the only two cops to ever patronize The Watering Hole, probably because it wasn’t big enough for a gaggle of cops to gather and have room to do more than cram themselves into the few seats and booths. The place wasn’t much bigger than the bodega down the street that had been robbed a few nights ago.

He knew the cops would catch whoever had done that because there was a witness. Only one, but one was enough. The robber would hold up another place, and soon after there would be a composite in the news that someone would recognize and phone in a tip. Blanton was surprised one hadn’t been generated already.

Rather than committing high-risk armed robberies, Blanton had been breaking into homes over the past month without being seen or even caught on camera, but that spree was over now. Those break-ins had been a test of his methods to see if any clues were found beyond the missing items, and of course there had been none, mostly because he’d not left any. Every move, every step had been planned with precision. He’d known everything he needed to know about each home and had used that information to his benefit.

Now, the murder Blanton had planned for a decade was ready for commission. He couldn’t afford to have such painstaking preparation go for nothing, so as time passed, his level of care increased. The killing had a motive, but the distance in time between the spurring events and the murder would prevent anyone from suspecting him. He’d been only seventeen when the first thought about killing his high school math teacher had occurred to him. Now, the long wait was nearly over. That distance in time was part of the plan, and Blanton knew that patience was necessary when committing the perfect crime, especially the perfect murder. After all, as they say, patience is a virtue. Blanton thought about this pithy little saying whenever he considered the time it was taking to kill the man he hated most in the world. Another favorite was, “Vengeance is a dish best served cold.” It had been used in an old sci-fi movie, but it was actually nineteenth-century French.

Now, he watched the man who would be his adversary in this drama of his own creation. He had nothing against Pantera. From what he could see, he was a fairly nice guy who went about his job the best he could. However, Blanton intended to win this chess match of wits. In order to do that, he would need to know everything he could about his adversary. It was all part of the plan to have his revenge and enjoy his lifelong freedom at the same time.

In his preparation, he had discovered that Pantera had an ex-wife and two daughters, though so far he didn’t know where they lived. He would have to find out in case he had to resort to more drastic measures to ensure his continued freedom. He didn’t think that would happen, but being sure his stratagem would work even if things didn’t go as planned was crucial.

He had also found out where Pantera lived. He would go there the next evening if the detective was at work and break in, mostly to get the layout and leave a few items behind. He would leave no clues though, not even a hint that someone had been there. Again, it was a dry run of sorts. He would be doing the same at his victim’s home next week and needed to make sure he could break into a house and leave those items behind while leaving no hint that he’d even been inside. The police investigated the rash of breaking and entering jobs, but this time he needed nobody to look into the crime, not to notice it at all. Blanton figured the best detective in Richmond would recognize something was amiss if the break-in wasn’t as undetectable as Blanton thought. If that went well, then the plan would move into full-speed-ahead mode. Then nothing could stop him, not even a detective as good as Pantera.

He also intended to follow Pantera on his days off to see if he visited his ex-wife and kids. Even if the kids were delivered to Pantera, he could follow whoever dropped them off, probably the ex, and find out where they live. All he had was time anyway. His trust fund paid his bills.

Yes, Blanton’s former math teacher, Mr. Grant Davis, would be dead within two weeks.

And Blanton himself will have gotten away with murder.