Stories tagged murder


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After court, the three of us skipped third period, walked down to the river and huddled under the 6th Street Bridge.

A Sea View of the Great, Great World

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  “Brett? It's your cousin Georgie. You hear about my mother?”             Brett looked over his shoulder at a pair of plumbers wrestling with the busted trap under his kitchen sink. Georgie's mother, Brett's Aunt Lucy, was eighty-five. Something…

French Vanilla Death - Prima Parte

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At the time, we only knew that our guest had been lying on the carpet long enough for the coffee spilled on him to have coagulated and almost completely dried, and for the French Vanilla to achieve the consistency of glue. Or, at least, a thicker glue.

French Vanilla Death - Seconda Parte

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The lead man, who did not seem to be the most important or distinguished, just the one walking in line before all of the others, knocked twice on the door and opened it quickly. He stepped gingerly through the doorway and the others filed gloomily in afte


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The house is too quiet. Silence drapes around your couch, the TV, the credenza with a Virgin Mary statue. Me llamo Inez Cuevas, you say out loud. Vivo en Corpus Christi. You write it on the blank page of your notebook, and underneath it: No tengo ami

Gansevoort Ridge

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Raymond Hunter killed a man in Mexico. It was long ago—before Commander Zero took up arms in Chiapas. Before the Shah had been run off the Peacock Throne. Before even the young Hearst heiress had been retired for good and all from the tabloids. And it t

He is Seventeen

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What we all know and do not say is that it is not about the physical pain she endured so much as it is the fear she must have felt for the child she was leaving behind.

Swan Song

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He ignored his scalded scrotum and listened intently. The music was beautiful beyond all physical pleasure or pain. The end of the piece gave him a deeper understanding of the expression 'la petite mort'. While he was still recovering, the next track b

Saving Grace

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It essentially comes down to this: If you have nothing left but paper, all you can really use it for is wiping your behind if you’re in a jam.

Early One Morning at Denny's

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Throughout breakfast Quebec kept watching this investor fellow, John Lytle. She tried remembering something about him, about when they'd first met. Her first impressions were very nearly always correct. But all she could bring to memory now was that it

The Death of Your Brother

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Suddenly a downpour erupted again, just like it did earlier in the morning. Clouds came out of nowhere, and it became a deluge. It felt like things including our tiny trailer were going to start floating around the nudist camp. Gina held back the little c

dinner time

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Baagh looked up, her face saturated with the crimson red of accomplishment, as stars crept out of the darkening blue sky and filled the air with a blanket of twinkling lights. Two victims of the night laid still in the trail with their discarded long, b

Revenge at the Nudist Camp

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When my mother called to tell me what had happened with Francine, she was crying. The minute Francine left, my mother understood that woman had bamboozled her. We got on the next jet down to L.A. and rented a car. Gina and I drove all the way out past Ont

The Late Show at the Argo

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The couple drove away at the end of the late show. They crashed sooner or later, often with fatalities to the woman cuddled up against her illicit lover.

Lenin's Paintings

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I was going through Lenin's jewelry and his paintings with a team of experts. I got the idea that I was hired to verify his paintings, although I didn't know he painted.