NYPD homicide detectives Mike Stoneman and Jason Dickson are preparing to testify at a high-profile murder trial. They busted the Broadway director, who poisoned his leading actor to collect the insurance money for his doomed show. Or did he? The director claims it was planted to frame him and that Mike and Jason developed tunnel vision. If they did, can they live with themselves, knowing that an innocent man might be convicted . . . and someone else got away with the perfect crime?

The prosecutor and their captain order them not to re-opening the closed case. But Mike and Jason are plagued by doubts. When new evidence leads to even more questions, the detectives race to put the pieces together and uncover the whole truth. But their unauthorized investigation could lead to catastrophic collateral damage, could cost them their badges, and the director may still be guilty

Read Double Takedown, a fully stand-alone novel and book #6 in the award-winning Mike Stoneman Thriller series.

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Listen to Kevin’s interview on KONP Newsradio 1450 talking about Double Takedown!

PREVIEW — CHAPTER 1 OF DOUBLE TAKEDOWN

(To listen, click above. Or, read chapter 1 below)

Chapter 1 — A Night at the Ballet

May 23, 2022

NEW YORK HOMICIDE DETECTIVE MIKE STONEMAN was decidedly out of his element. The David H. Koch Theater’s palatial lobby resembled the red carpet outside the Academy Awards. Bejeweled women sipped champagne under crystal chandeliers while celebrities mingled and posed for pictures. What’s a cop doing in this crowd? he thought, not for the first time.

          Mike’s black tuxedo pants were annoyingly snug. Standing in a crowd of people, only a few of whom were wearing face masks, exacerbated his discomfort. Every one of the glamourous members of the Broadway community swirling through the room was either taller, thinner, or younger than him. Most were all three.

          Jason Dickson, Mike’s partner, on the other hand, was happy to show off his tall, fit physique in a perfectly tailored tux. His dark skin contrasted with the snowy white collar of his dress shirt. Mike was used to being the older, shorter, and paunchier member of his team. His only solace was that all the other homicide detectives in their Manhattan precinct looked more like Mike. He had overcome the jealousy years ago, but at a formal occasion like this, he felt a tiny pang.

          Mike was also not a fan of ballet, which was the upcoming performance following the cocktail reception. He appreciated the dancers’ physical prowess and the fluid beauty of the performances. But the story that others claimed they saw within the dance eluded his perception. This was supposed to be the first big post-pandemic event for Mike and Michelle. Time to get back to something approaching normal after more than two years of social distancing. Mike felt like an old war horse at the Kentucky Derby.

          Michelle, by contrast, was smiling, laughing, and having the time of her life alongside Jason’s wife, Rachel. For Rachel, one of the most outgoing and people-loving individuals Mike knew, the pandemic had been torture. Tonight, Rachel was resplendent in her sparkling purple gown. Jason had quietly revealed to Mike that she had not fit into it since the baby. A solid month of near-starvation and workouts yielded the eye-catching results before them.

          These musings were interrupted by the clinking of silverware on crystal. The crowd hushed and all eyes turned to a white-haired man standing on the red-carpeted stairway leading to the theater. Once he had everyone’s attention, Albert Edward Gooday the Third thanked everyone for coming and for donating to the Broadway Cares / Equity Fights Aids foundation. In a three-minute speech, Mr. Gooday gave his personal thanks to a list of people who made the event possible. Mike paid little attention until their host encouraged everyone to drink the wine and enjoy the hors d’oeuvres before the performance began in thirty minutes.

          Michelle’s soft voice penetrated the growing murmur of the crowd. “Thank you, Mike.”

          Turning to his left and looking down at Michelle’s beaming face, most of Mike’s discomfort melted away. Four inches shorter than Mike, Michelle’s smooth skin and dark eyes produced the illusion of being much younger. Passing men admired her soft curves and slim legs and neck, wrapped in a black, sequined cocktail dress. He often marveled that Michelle was his wife. When he started dating the Manhattan county medical examiner during the Righteous Assassin investigation, Mike never imagined that, five years later, they would be together at a Lincoln Center charity ballet.

          “I didn’t do anything.”

          “You agreed to come, and you dressed up for me. I appreciate it. I’m having a wonderful time. I hope you don’t hate this too much.”

          “I’m fine. Looks like Jason and Rachel are loving it.” He tilted his head toward their companions, who were deep in conversation with three women in progressively more revealing gowns and one tall man with perfectly groomed hair. An actor, of course, but Mike did not recognize him.

          “I’m sure they are. Thank you for agreeing to spend the money.”

          “Yeah, well, it’s a good cause, right?”

          A booming voice caused Mike to swing his attention to his left. “Detectives Stoneman and Dickson!”

          “Well, I’ll be damned,” Mike lowered his voice, hoping only Michelle would hear.

          “Shhh! Be nice,” Michelle whispered back.

          A rotund man accompanied by a glamourous blonde advanced toward Mike, extended his meaty hand, and gave Mike’s an enthusiastic shake. “Victoria, allow me to present two of New York’s finest homicide detectives, Mike Stoneman and Jason Dickson. I can truthfully say I owe these men my life.”

          “Well, I guess we shouldn’t be surprised to see the great Max Bloom at an event like this,” Mike said.

          “Allow me to present one of my protégés, Miss Victoria Franklin, an up-and-coming actress,” Bloom gushed.

          “Actor, Max. Please.” Victoria extended her manicured hand toward Mike. Her ears dripped with a three-tiered cascade of diamonds, matching a necklace dangling between her exposed cleavage.

          Michelle said, “Are you one of Max’s clients?”

          “One of my cast members,” Max crooned, placing an arm around Victoria’s slim waist. “Since the tragic death of my wife, Sheila, I’m happy to say that I’m now a producer of one of this year’s biggest shows, Godfather: The Musical. It’s up for eight Tony Awards. Sheila always loved the theater. It’s what she would have wanted.” Max patted his companion’s hand, as if grieving deeply over his loss.

          “You’re producing that show?” Rachel blurted. “I should introduce you to my brother, Jackie. He’s a brilliant performer. You should give him an audition.”

          “Oh, I’d be happy to, Miss Robinson. Anything for my favorite detectives.” Max held out his business card, which Rachel placed into her purple clutch.

          “And it’s now Mrs. Dickson.” Rachel flashed a satisfied smile at Jason and extended her left hand, displaying her own diamond ring.

          “Wonderful!” Max bellowed. “Congratulations. I owe your husband everything I have. You can have your brother call me anytime.” Max then squeezed his date’s shoulder, pulling her gently. “Come, my dear. There are many other people who need to meet you.” Without a glance back, Max and Victoria disappeared into the crowd like Shoeless Joe Jackson melting into an Iowa cornfield.

          Michelle clutched Mike’s forearm, pulling him forward. “We don’t have much time before the performance. I want to meet Alex Bishop. I saw him over this way. He’s the lead in Max’s show, so now we can tell him we know his producer.”

          “I’m not sure I want to be associated with Max Bloom,” Mike grimaced. “He’s probably here playing some angle.”

          Jason, who had been listening, said, “I’ll bet you ten bucks Max got somebody else to buy his ticket for this shindig.” Mike laughed, but did not take the bet.

          When the lights dimmed and the guests made their way toward the stairs, Mike and Michelle walked past a large placard listing the names of major donors. She pointed out that Maximillian Bloom was listed as a $50,000 benefactor.

          Mike looked over his shoulder at Jason. “Well, I guess you were wrong.”

          * * *

FORTY-FIVE MINUTES INTO THE FIRST ACT of the ballet, Rachel pulled down her sparkling purple facemask and whispered into Jason’s ear, “What’s going on down there?”

          They were seated in the next-to-last row of the orchestra level. At the front of the house, partially illuminated by the stage lights, someone was standing. Rachel could not see who it was, but could hear the buzz of people talking. Then, a woman’s scream attracted everyone’s attention. Necks strained to see. More people stood.

          The music stopped in the middle of the piece. The performers continued dancing for several seconds on a silent stage. The conductor, standing on a raised podium so she could see the stage and the orchestra pit, turned toward the audience. She was talking into her headset microphone. There was another scream. Then the conductor’s voice boomed over the sound system.

          “Ladies and gentlemen, please remain in your seats. We have a medical emergency in the front row. If there are any doctors in the house, we need assistance right away.”

          Rachel’s EMT training kicked in before the conductor finished saying “emergency.” She leapt over Jason’s lap, then kicked off her heels as she sprinted barefoot down the long, sloping path toward the stage. Dozens of people began filming on their phones. Despite the conductor’s instruction, half the house seemed to be standing.

          Mike jumped up as soon as he saw Rachel leave her seat. He grabbed Jason’s sleeve. “Let’s go, we need to work crowd control down there. Michelle, call 9-1-1.”

          Jason and Mike were forty feet behind Rachel. When they reached the front of the theater, a small group of gawkers had already gathered in the aisle.

          “NYPD! Please take your seats and keep this aisle clear for emergency services!” Jason shouted, his baritone carrying throughout the auditorium.

          Mike gently eased several men in formalwear away from the space between the front row and the orchestra pit. Jason did the same. The two detectives took up positions on either side of the aisle, casting authoritative glares at anyone who seemed interested in venturing toward the commotion in front of the stage.

          Jason glanced down the front row and saw Rachel’s bare back hunched over someone lying on the floor. The straps of her purple dress flashed in the house lights, which had come on. Rachel and two men worked together to drag a figure on the floor toward more open space. Jason saw black shoes and pants, but could not see the man’s face. An usher ran down the aisle, holding a small red case that Mike assumed was an automated external defibrillator. He dashed past the two cops and handed the device to Rachel, who had taken charge of the emergency situation.

          Rachel barked instructions while prepping the AED, then administered an electric charge to the victim’s now-bare chest. On the elevated stage, twenty dancers leaned over the edge to watch.

          One minute later, an actual EMT team barreled down the aisle with a gurney on wheels carrying their own equipment. Rachel remained on her knees, working on the supine man, while the two tuxedoed doctors stepped back. The public address system announced that there would be an intermission in the performance due to the medical emergency and asked everyone to calmly return to the lobby. As the crowd slowly rose and meandered to the exit, those still filming remained standing until Mike, Jason, and several ushers shouted them into submission and herded them toward the doors.

          On the floor, the EMT crew loaded the unconscious man onto their gurney, then hustled out an emergency exit door at the left corner of the stage. As soon as the crew passed them, Jason and Mike rushed toward Rachel. Jason gently pulled her to a standing position. She hugged Jason in her bare feet as Mike stood back. Before Jason and Rachel disengaged, a tap on Mike’s back caused him to spin around. Michelle held out Rachel’s sparkling heels with a concerned expression.

          “Don’t like following instructions, huh?” Mike said.

          Michelle flashed a tiny smile. “I told the usher I’m a doctor and he let me stay.”

          “Thanks,” Rachel said, slumping into a front-row seat and working to slide back into her shoes.

          “Do you know who that was on the floor?” Michelle asked.

          Rachel stood. “Oh my God. You couldn’t see, could you? It was Alex Bishop.”

          “The lead in Godfather? He was just nominated for a Tony!” Michelle grabbed Mike’s sleeve.

          “He was,” Rachel said, “but unless the EMT crew works a miracle, he won’t be there to win it.”