You Oughta Be a Detective

Connor Aldrich Yates became one of the youngest District Attorneys ever elected to his post. Not just locally, but anywhere. Younger by three years at his election time than the thirty-one-year-old in Pennsylvania. He defaulted into the job when his elderly predecessor keeled over after receiving what the Medical Examiner described as “extremely vigorous” oral … Continue reading You Oughta Be a Detective

That Poor Ol’ Sumbitch Jimmy Pierce

“She brought her own coffee.” “That’s fine, Betty.” Sheriff Harden punched out of the phone intercom thinking at least Candi would brew her “sustainably and ethically sourced” coffee, whatever that meant, strong enough to float a horseshoe. Unlike Betty, who, if she wasn’t caught and stopped, would add two scoops of sawdust she’d bought at … Continue reading That Poor Ol’ Sumbitch Jimmy Pierce


Sheriff Harden scraped an orange plastic, spindly chrome legged stackable chair away from the table in the break room, left his hands on the back, leaned toward Bash. “Weekend as good as that breakfast burrito?” “Hardly,” Bash wiped his mouth with a paper napkin, set the burrito down in its foil wrapper. “But if you’re … Continue reading Floater

Happier’n Pigs…

Sheriff Harden smacked the one-inch clear-front binder on top of the only file cabinet left in his office, unclipped his uniform tie, tossed it in a desk drawer he promptly slammed. “If that don’t beat a sore dick…” He kicked his chair from under the desk, dropped into it fuming. The door opened halfway and … Continue reading Happier’n Pigs…

In a Heartbeat

Meyers stepped into Wichtikl’s high-ceilinged receiving room, closed the left door, walked to the right door and closed it before he turned around to face the room and the muzzles of four handguns. Wichtikl and both DeMilnes held small, shiny, nearly identical twenty-five autos. Archie had his nickel-plated cannon. Rifat, furthest to Meyers’ right, held … Continue reading In a Heartbeat


Huntley drove the rutted dirt track atop a ridge in the Santa Monica mountains until he found a tractor track leading from the back of Wichtikl’s horse ranch to the stables. Past the stables, the path became a well-maintained gravel road slightly wider than the Rover. Glaring by their omission from the thirty-acre horse ranch … Continue reading Enjoy

What the Hell Am I Saying

The Bishop slowly nursed two fingers of Meyers’ expensive scotch and smoked an illegal Cuban cigar he’d found sitting next to the bottle while Meyers snored in the bedroom. He made a few calls, found the Circle Room at the top of the Deuxième Maison Hotel still had eight tables going at one AM. On … Continue reading What the Hell Am I Saying

NVDT – Writerly Concerns – Shamed

Have you, and I’m talking to all the would-be and consider themselves to already be writers, ever finished a story and felt shamed? I have. I’m not talking about the wordy modernist hit makers and the modern wordsy style as promoted by those who claim to know how to write a modern novel. No. I … Continue reading NVDT – Writerly Concerns – Shamed

NVDT Shorts – How They Get Away III

Clown Car “Going to Texas for a grocery run,” Harper folded the bed lid down on his good pickup. “Got the freezer in the back. You need anything from Costco or Sam’s, now’s the time to holler.” “Damn, Harper. No notice?” Cheryl’s tongue poked a bump in her cheek while she thought. “Can I text … Continue reading NVDT Shorts – How They Get Away III