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Norfolk Confidential, a noir mystery set in 1940, detective Johnny Edmonds follows the evidence to solve two seemingly unrelated murders, uncovering more than the killer.
Brash Norfolk homicide detective Johnny Edmonds investigates two murders in 1940. A Jewish college professor is found stabbed in a downtown alley. A few blocks away, an African American racketeer is dead with five bullets in his chest. Due to Norfolk’s segregated society, the two killings appear unrelated.
Johnny became a policeman to one day settle his score with mobster Rocco Diangelo. Like an octopus, Rocco has his tentacles wrapped around every criminal enterprise in Norfolk. During Prohibition, Johnny’s father was Rocco’s bootlegging competitor. After his father was shot dead in the street, Johnny wasn’t fooled. Although a patsy was convicted and executed for the murder, only Rocco benefited from eliminating his father.
As he moves through Norfolk’s seamy underside to solve the two murders, he believes Rocco is the common denominator. But has he allowed his personal vendetta to cloud his judgement? He uncovers a new menace lurking in the shadows that may be behind the two murders.

Sujets

Policier & Thriller

Policier

Fiction

Mystery

Detective

Historical

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Publié par	iUniverse
Date de parution	30 juin 2023
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781663253910
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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NORFOLK CONFIDENTIAL

Daniel P. Hennelly

NORFOLK CONFIDENTIAL

Copyright © 2023 Daniel P. Hennelly.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Certain characters in this work are historical figures, and certain events portrayed did take place. However, this is a work of fiction. All of the other characters, names, and events as well as all places, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-6632-5392-7 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6632-5391-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023910981

iUniverse rev. date: 06/27/2023
CONTENTS
Author’s Note
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
Chapter XXI
Chapter XXII
Chapter XXIII
Chapter XXIV
Chapter XXV
Chapter XXVI
Chapter XXVII
Chapter XXVIII
Chapter XXIX
Chapter XXX
Chapter XXXI
Chapter XXXII
Chapter XXXIII
Chapter XXXIV
Chapter XXXV
Chapter XXXVI
Chapter XXXVII
Chapter XXXVIII
Chapter XXXIX
Chapter XL
Epilogue

Other Books by Daniel P. Hennelly and published by iUniverse:
Fatal Knowledge: A Collegiate Murder Mystery
Stairway To Death: A Collegiate Murder Mystery
Slave Against The Galaxy (Science Fiction)
AUTHOR’S NOTE
A novel set in an earlier era presents many challenges for an author. I dd not gloss over or ignore the racial and religious intolerance of 1940’s America. It is not my intent to offend anyone using the vernacular of that period. Hopefully in the intervening decades, we have become a less prejudiced society.
This book is a work of fiction. All characters are fictitious; any resemblance to real individuals, living or dead is a coincidence. Set in my hometown, a number of former Norfolk businesses move in and out of the pages of my novel. The Monticello Hotel, the Thomas Nelson Hotel, Ames & Brownley Department Store, Smith & Welton Department Store, Peoples Drugstore, Masters Pharmacy, the Monticello Hotel, the Thomas Nelson Hotel, the Ghent Hotel, the Bamboo Inn, the Gaiety Burlesque, and the Loew’s Theater have all passed into history. You can still get a barbeque sandwich and limeade at Doumar’s, but the carhops are no longer on roller skates. All other businesses and places are a creation of my imagination. My portrayal of the investigative and legal process is intended to move the story along and is not a real representation of how the process works.
Three individuals mentioned were prominent figures in the era of my novel. The Norfolk Journal and Guide was one of the leading African American newspapers in the South with a circulation of 80,000 in the 1940’s. Its editor, Mr. P. B. Young, was a respected leader in the African American community. I spent an interesting afternoon reading several issues on microfilm from 1940. Polly Adler was a New York madam. Her infamous brothel catered to the well-heeled, politicians, writers, actors, athletes, and mobsters. Adler published her autobiography in the 1950’s and sold two million copies. Margaret Sullivan, a Norfolk native, was a major star in Hollywood in the 1930’s and 1940’s but is forgotten today except by movie buffs.
DEDICATION
I dedicate this novel to my wife of forty years, Mary Bride, who provided much love, inspiration, and support during the writing of this novel.
I would also like to dedicate this novel to my late parents, Patrick J., and Ann L. Hennelly. My parents instilled a love of books in me at an early age.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
First, I’d like to thank my neighbor, Dr. William S. Rodner, Professor of History Emeritus at Tidewater Community College, Virginia Beach, Virginia, and editor of Scotia: Interdisciplinary Journal of Scottish Studies , who twice read my manuscript from start to finish. His editorial comments vastly improved the final manuscript.
Second, I would like to acknowledge John A. Parker, Jr., the former Head of the Reference Department at the now demolished Kirn Memorial Library in Norfolk, Virginia. John passed away unexpectedly and prematurely in May 2014 just after I finished Chapter IX. His mother was a waitress at the Ames & Brownley Tearoom in the 1940’s and he enjoyed her appearance in my novel. He read my chapters as I wrote them and provided information on Norfolk in the 1940’s. John was a true scholar and bibliophile.
Finally, I would like to thank the members of my Writer’s Group, particularly Catherine and Shawn. They have listened to my novels over the last twenty years and have provided criticism that has helped me hone my skills as a writer.
CHAPTER I
Saturday
June 8, 1940
The thunderstorm that passed through Norfolk around midnight had failed to break the heat wave. As the sun rose over Ocean View section of Norfolk on the shore of Chesapeake Bay, the sweat was already rolling off my chest. An oscillating fan mounted on the wall had failed to bring relief from the humidity. I pushed off the damp sheet that covered me and searched for my boxers, finding them under Leilah, my companion from the night before. Giving them a tug failed to awaken Leilah who just rolled over.
Leilah had just turned eighteen although she claimed to be twenty-one. Like most girls from eastern North Carolina, she’d come to Norfolk in search of a more exciting life than that offered on her daddy’s tobacco farm. Possessing only a sixth-grade education that stymied her job search, in desperation she answered a help wanted ad for a waitress at Miss Hobart’s Tearoom. It didn’t take much for Aunt Ida, as her girls called her, to convince Leilah to join the world’s oldest profession. Sex was as natural for Leilah as fried chicken, biscuits, and gravy for Sunday dinner. She quickly fitted into Ida’s operation.
I ran my hand over Leilah. Her pale white skin glistened like a piece of fine china. Red curls covered her head, the color echoed elsewhere on her slender frame. Many Ocean View prostitutes bleached their hair blond in the fashion of Jean Harlow, but none that I knew extended the treatment elsewhere.
I reached for my pack of Luckies on the nightstand and found it empty. Leilah must’ve smoked my last cigarette after I’d fallen asleep. She’d also finished my pint of bourbon. The empty bottle lay on the threadbare oriental carpet next to the bed.
The phone in the hallway started to ring. “Morning, Miss Hobart’s Tearoom,” answered Viola, the colored housekeeper. “Yep, he’s still here.”
A second later there was a knock on the door. “Mister Johnny, there’s a phone call for you. It’s time to rise and shine. Decent folks are out of bed at this hour.”
I pulled on my underwear and went out into the hall.
“You’re one to talk about decent folks,” I said.
“I found the Lord Jesus and left my life of sin behind,” she declared with a smirk on her face. Viola, retired from a bordello that catered to Negro seamen, now kept house for Aunt Ida.
A tattooed sailor, sporting only his dog tags, came out of the bathroom.
“Didn’t your mama teach you to put your pants on?” she asked as she swatted his rump with her broom.
“Sorry ma’am,” he replied in a voice seeped in grits and cornbread. With the recent commissioning of three aircraft carriers and the fourth soon to follow, the Navy had reached deep into the backwoods for recruits.
I picked up the phone. “Johnny Edmonds.”
“You’re needed downtown. We had a murder last night,” said Captain Horton.
“I’m supposed to have the day off.”
“Welcome to homicide, sonny boy.”
“What time is it anyway.”
“Six even.”
“Where do I meet you?”
“The stiff is waiting for you in the alley behind the Monticello Hotel. You’re the lead investigator on the case.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes, sir.”
I went back to the room and put on my watch. Leilah was sitting up in the bed, her breasts hanging over the sheets caught my eye.
“What’s the hurry Johnny?”
“Time to go to work, baby.”
“Don’t you have time for a quick one?”
The stiff could wait. Ten minutes more wouldn’t kill him. I shucked my shorts and dived into the bed.

“Good morning, Johnny.”
Miss Sally and Miss Ruth sat in wicker rocking chairs on their porch reading the morning newspaper. A silver tea service sat on the table between them. The two lesbians ran the brothel next to Aunt Ida’s. I tipped my hat to them.
“You’ll ha