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In the Owl's Eye

by Rick Rocco

230 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #03-1380; ISBN 1-4120-1011-X; US$24.50, C$28.00, EUR20.50, £14.50

The brutal murder of a man and woman has the Tucson community enraged. When the wrong man is accused of the killing, only two people can prove his innocence.

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about the book      about the author      sample excerpts      catalogue info

About the Book 1885 Tucson, in the United States Arizona Territory, was the up and coming town in the American Southwest. In the Owl's Eye is about the abduction from Tucson, and brutal murder of a man and a woman whose bodies are dumped on the Barking Saguaros Ranch. Sam Patlock, the owner of the ranch, and his ranch foreman become embroiled in finding thesolution to the murder. The identity of the murdered woman sets the Tucson community up in arms, putting pressure on law enforcement to find a quick solution to the murder. The political implications of the murder set the prosecutor off on the goal of advancing his career. With the wrong man accused of the murder, and both Sam Patlock and the sheriff realizing his innocence, Sam and the Sheriff must find the killer and prove the wrongly accused man's innocence.

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About the Author Rick Rocco was born Richard Henry Whitcomb on July 14, 1940 in Toledo, Washington. Legal adoption by his stepfather in 1952 accounts for his current name. Toledo is a small town in southwestern Washington not far from Mount Saint Helen. He was raised primarily in Edmonds, Washington, just north of Seattle, and graduated from Edmonds High School and City University in Seattle with a bachelor degree in Business Management. He also completed all the requirements for a bachelor degree in Government Policy and Administration. Rick had a 30 year career in photography with most of the time spent in scientific and technical photography. He then moved into contract administration for another eleven years before retiring. He currently lives in Oro Valley, Arizona. In the Owl's Eye is Rick's first novel. He is considering writing another which will also be a Sam Patlock murder mystery.

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Sample Excerpts

Chapter One
Tuesday, May 5, 1885, Late Evening
Northwest of Tucson, Arizona Territory,
on the Santa Cruz River

The new moon added to the density of the night. Shining brightly, the ceiling of stars and the wispy cloud of the Milky Way failed to penetrate the dark. A single horseman and wagon, drawn by two horses, raised a thick cloud of dust. Radiating from two oil lanterns, the light lit the dust, which, when seen from a distance, formed a bubble of illumination that meandered through the mesquites. Outside the range of the lanterns the moonless dark was complete, punctuated only by the hoots of a Great-horned Owl.

The lantern, held by the horseman in front of the wagon, lowered as he announced, "There's the chopping block, stop here." Held by the man riding in the back of the wagon, the second lantern raised as he stood and held it high to get a better look.

"Let's turn the wagon around," said the horseman as he moved off to the wagon's right, leading it in a circle until it was back on the road facing in the opposite direction. "Back it up!" He yelled. Urging the horses back, the driver stopped when the horseman said, "Far enough." Dismounting and laying his lantern on the tree stump, which served as a chopping block, the horseman ordered, "Bring them over here."

The man in the rear of the wagon threw back the canvas cover revealing a large man and a small woman who were tightly bound at both hands and feet. Cutting the ropes that bound their feet, the man pulled on each, in turn, until they fell to the sandy ground. The bound man was six feet tall and weighed at least two hundred and twenty pounds. He had blood, both fresh and dried, that matted his hair at the back of his head and caked around his shirt collar. Only partly conscious and obviously confused, the victim groaned as he was forced to his feet. Urging him forward by both shoving and dragging, the smaller man let the victim drop beside the chopping block.

Grabbing the man by the collar, the horseman raised the victim to his knees. Drawing a gun from his belt the horseman aimed at the back of the victim's head and fired. Lurching forward, the victim started to slide down the embankment to the river bed. "Shit!" swore the horseman as he tried to keep the body from getting away. He was not fast enough and the body dropped down the embankment onto the wet sand of the river's edge.

"Bring the bitch over here," ordered the horseman. Now hysterical, the woman started to scream only to receive a sharp blow to the side of the face. After dragging her to the spot where the man was shot, the horseman grabbed her and aimed his pistol at her head. One of the other men put his hand on the horseman's arm and asked with a sneer, "Would be a shame to have her totally wasted, don't you think?" Pausing, the horseman pushed her toward the other man and while walking calmly toward the wagon said, "Go ahead and have your fun with her."

Screaming, the woman fought the man who pushed her to the ground and tore at her clothes. "Shut her up!" shouted the horseman. With that the woman received a full fisted blow that knocked her unconscious.

Leaning against the wagon, the horseman casually pulled the hammer back on his revolver until it locked in the safety position and flipped open the loading gate. Pulling the ejection rod's head to disengage it, he swung it 180 degrees to the right. Aligning the spent chamber with the loading gate, he pushed the casing out with the ejection rod. Taking a good round from his pocket, he pressed it into the chamber and closed the loading gate. Bending down, he picked up the spent casing and tossed it into the brush a few feet away. He had done all this from habit. A habit that allowed the reloading to be done with only casual glances. Sticking the gun back into his belt, he leaned back against the wagon to enjoy the obscene performance in front of him.

Pushing the still man off the woman, the horseman told the two men to get their pants up and get the dead man into the wagon. He then rolled the unconscious women over until she was face down in the dirt. Standing over her, he fired into her head. The body jerked and then was quiet. As the two men dragged her body to the wagon, the horseman noticed a dark stain on the sand. Taking a shovel from the wagon he picked up the blood stained sand and tossed it away in a spreading motion.

Remounted, the horseman rode up beside the wagon and while reloading his revolver said, "I'm going back to Tucson. You guys take these carcasses out in the desert and dump them. When you get back, make sure to wash out the back of the wagon." The man put the spent casing from his reloading into his jacket pocket without thinking about it and pushed the revolver under his belt.

Picking up the lantern from the chopping block, the horseman returned to the front of the wagon reforming the bubble of light. As the wagon moved back to the main road the bubble slowly disappeared until only the stars and the hoot of the owl remained.

Chapter Two
Tuesday, May 5, Night
Somewhere in Tucson's Gay Alley

The man entered his room and collapsed on his bed after lighting a single oil lamp. It had been a long day but all his goals were met. I'm finally free, thought the man. I will not have that son-of-a-bitch on my tail ever again.

Sitting up on the edge of the bed, he noticed dark spots on his pant legs. He stood and removed his jacket. Giving it a casual glance, he hung the jacket in the armoire. Removing the pants, he took a close look at one of the dark spots. "Blood," he said out loud. Damn, he thought. I'll have to get these laundered.

Sitting on the edge of the bed he thought, have I made any other mistakes? Let's see. I've buried the gun in the desert. It's highly unlikely that anyone will find it. No, I guess I'm clean. I just have to be calm and play this out to the end and then I'm free!

Placing the pants in the corner by the door so he would not forget them, the man took off his shoes and examined them. There was blood on them but it washed off easily. A little boot shine in the morning and that should take care of the shoes, he thought. As he continued to strip off his clothes, he examined each piece carefully. There was no other sign of blood. Finally, he was able to blow out the oil lamp and get into bed. "It's done," he said happily.

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Catalogue Information

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