Please Wait by Robert Dawson

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I could tell the dame was trouble as soon as she slithered into my office.

A real Sherlock Holmes type might have deduced this by scientific observation of her blood-red stiletto-heeled shoes, in the context of the matching miniskirt, spaghetti-strap top, lipstick and fingernails, and all this at nine-thirty-seven in the morning. But I’ve had the dubious advantage of knowing Annie for twenty-three years, and trust me, my kid sister has been trouble since she learned to talk. I swung my feet down off the desk.

“Feet up on the desk, Cliffy?” she asked brightly, by way of greeting.Read the rest

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This Land of the Strange by Math Bird

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Jernegan knew they’d come. He’d left enough clues for them to find him. Besides, Swain wanted him dead, so it was only a matter of time. Yet the moment he stepped off the bus and sniffed the air, such thoughts left, abandoning him to the smell of the soil, the pines, and the faint tang of the sea.

Jernegan took in the hills, the sky, and the faraway mountains, knowing this was the land that never changed, the place where he longed to be.

Thirty summers he’d waited, and with the passing of each season he had convinced himself it was special, magical even, the gradual reshaping of his memories telling him a better story.… Read the rest

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BV Lawson’s “The Least of These” a 2015 Derringer Award Finalist!

I’m so pleased to share that BV Lawson’s “The Least of These” (Plan B: Volume III) is one of the finalists for this year’s Derringer Awards for excellence in crime and mystery short fiction!

Also, congratulations to Plan B authors Jed Power and Eryk Pruitt and the rest of the Derringer Award finalists!… Read the rest

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Broad Daylight by Eve Fisher

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When we arrived, Jack Olson was lying in a pool of blood on Carl Jacobsen’s study floor. The wall behind him, including the white frames around the broken window, was a mess, sprayed with dark red bits and blobs of Jack. He looked surprised at being dead. Carl looked angry at having killed him. Detective Jonasson sent me outside to look around.

There were no flowerbeds back here, and the grass was so dry from the summer heat that it crackled underfoot. Hoppers leaped around me as I sweated in the shade from a shagbark hickory.… Read the rest

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Honeymoon Sweet by Craig Faustus Buck

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For a sweet house, right on Santa Monica Beach, it was unbelievably easy to break into. Mickey found a window he could open with a putty knife, so the double-locked doors were a joke. And Lana disabled the alarm within the forty-five-second grace period before it would have triggered. They were in and no one knew. What a great way to kick off the honeymoon.

Mickey couldn’t imagine hijacking anything else that could have brought them any closer to heaven. Lana had told him she’d always dreamed of a house on the beach and he’d delivered: salt air, pounding surf, white sand, five-million dollar love nest whose owner was en route to Europe.Read the rest

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