…Gus came out of the motel bathroom, a palmful of hair dripping on the chipped tile. The long strands, a bushy, tangled mess, spilled in all directions. “It’s… sticky. Like pine tar or something.” Jonah wondered why he even picked it up.
He fumbled his phone, dropped it, fired its beam on the ceiling. “I saw something. It… was looking at me.”
“The woman’s here?”
“It was an ‘it.’ And it moved.”
A Shear Delight!
Mysteries to die for
‘Far be it from me to stick my beak in someone else’s business!’
It was hard to keep a straight face. Henri’s beak was at its best in other people’s business.
Convinced that his state beautician’s certificate grants him license to snoop, spy, poke, prod, and pester, Henri Beauchamp (he pronounces it the European way, ON-ree bow-SHAWM) is joined by his tough-as-nails dentist, the foul-mouthed librarian, and the best Bayville has to offer as he solves Bayville’s biggest—and pettiest—crimes.
If it weren’t for false modesty,
Henri would have no modesty at all
From the ‘Mysteries to Die For’ Podcast – A Book You Read with Your Ears!
The original headquarters for the Office of Strategic Services – today’s CIA – were located at 23rd and E Street in Washington, DC, and known as “The Pickle Factory,” “The E Street Complex,” or, quite simply, “E Street.”
E STREET THRILLERS
Exclusively in Thrill Ride Magazine!
GIFTS OF PROVIDENCE
He turned back to the bluff and cracked off three rounds from Lew’s repeater. About fifty yards below, off to the southwest, he spotted their attacker disappearing behind a cloud of dust.
‘Who was he.’
‘White horse. Bright red shirt. All I could see. Was hoping you’d know.’
‘Why would I?’
‘Wasn’t shooting at me.’
‘You’re hurt.’ Lew licked her thumb and wiped at a cut on his left cheek. ‘You were wrong, before. Reckon now it’s become your fight.’
‘Wasn’t shooting at me.’
Outside the Box
Jordan Black was a cardboard salesman, not a spy. Right now he should be in some hospitality suite eating bacon-wrapped scallops and schmoozing, not sneaking around a Sydney chemical plant using a dead man’s ID.
The overhead lights snapped on. Some spy he was—he hadn’t even heard the door squeak open.
‘Stop right there, mate. Put yer hands high.’
Jordan looked at the two men pointing weapons at him. Shit, not these guys again.
From
Thrill Ride Magazine
GHOSTED
In hindsight, I never should have told Scott Stamper he could get away with murder, let alone with killing his wife.
‘Bullshit,’ the movie star protested, but I could see wheels turning. Maybe not calculation; curiosity?
‘Turn off the tape’ is what he should have said, but he wasn’t that clever. Still, I didn’t think he’d go through with it. Even if he wanted to.
From
Freedom Fiction Journal
Better Not Cry
They don’t tell you how many kids piss on Santa’s lap.
Why couldn’t they just be normal, sit down, and ask for GI Joes and Barbies? He had this one brat this morning tried explaining crypto to him.
Nick bounced little Jimmy – ‘Jimbo’ – once on his knee. He could feel the tell-tale warmth of a faulty bladder, but it wasn’t Santa that the boy feared. It was everything else.
Match Wits with Seattle’s Finest!
Seattle’s crime rate doesn’t fluctuate whether or not Pearl Jam is on tour. But more crimes are solved when the multimillion-record-selling quintet is off the road. That’s because their singer, Eddie Vedder, is home and ready to help detectives clear their thorniest cases.
Can YOU Solve the Crimes Faster Than Eddie Vedder?
Barber Pole from a photo by Nick Fewings
Crime Scene Tape from a photo by Chase Baker
Coastal Bayville adapted from a photo by Gene Dizon
‘Tramps Like Us’ industrial landscape photo by Patrick Hendry
Dancer in the Dark adapted from a photo by Andres Medina
E Street’s ‘Bus’ from a photo by by Peter Wormstetter