“For the sins of your fathers you, though guiltless, must suffer.” — Horace
I dug the book I was reading out from under a stack of college paperwork that sat on my desk. After a week of celebrating my high school graduation I just didn’t have the drive to dig in to all of that yet.
Just before lunch, I heard the doorbell ring. I walked to the top of the stairs to see who it was. My mother opened the door to see a man in a very nice suit, his black hair cropped close, almost military. He raised a pistol and shot her.… Read the rest
The south of France, a beautiful woman, obsession, murder. What more could a man want from a quick jaunt across the Channel?
He raised the cup to his lips and took a sip of the rich coffee. He held the cup there a moment and looked at her over the rim, like a spy looking over the top of a newspaper. She sat a few tables along, half hidden in the shade of the parasol. Where the sun hit her it lit her up like dynamite. He lowered the cup. That’s right, she was dynamite. He looked over again, trying to only move his eyes, not his head too.… Read the rest