On the ground between the far side of the bed and the windows, Maurice lay, face down on the tan carpet as though he’d collapsed forward, unable to brace for his fall. His killer must have struck him as he Read More …
My name is Miller Brinkman and I am—or rather, I was—a private investigator. That message was recovered in March of 1948, from a former top-secret area known as Location 2208-C. Two years have since passed, but part of me is forever Read More …
I peeked over the stairs and saw my sister Jenna’s reflection in the glass. I considered ignoring it and sneaking back into my office until my cell phone started vibrating in my pocket. My family and the Borg from Star Read More …
The man on the park bench stared at the empty space above the knuckle of Nora Pennington’s pinkie finger. Strangers were always hypnotized by this gap. They would gaze at the puckered skin stretched over the nub of finger bone Read More …
All I could see was the dress. The ghost of weddings past, it swept above the checkered linoleum floor and rooted me in place. My heart twisted, leaving me breathless. I jolted into motion. The quiche, forgotten, slipped sideways on Read More …
I didn’t believe in ghosts or the supernatural…but that weird noise in the wall was testing my convictions. The unpleasant scratching sound that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention had been going on for Read More …
Teddie Matson had a golden life, until her path had the misfortune of crossing mine. I sat staring out the window of my office, k.d. lang playing in the background. It was a while till the sun would set, that Read More …
Spider John Rush resigned himself to the hard truth–he was returning to a world of cut and thrust, hide and pounce, blood and smoke, pitch and tar. He had been foolish to think of leaving that world; Spider John belonged Read More …
The copy was straight to the point. Wanted: Information on the hit-and-run murder of Haley Joseph. Tuesday, August 18th, 11:30 p.m., Vermont Ave near Hillside St. And across the bottom, right over her press-on French manicure, $15,000 reward. I peered Read More …
I looked out the plane’s window at Los Angeles, and it looked like any other airport. No palm trees in evidence. No movie stars strolling across the tarmac toward private jets. No surfboards. The only difference between LAX and LaGuardia Read More …
