crime

Vacation by Tom Koperwas

Vacation by Tom Koperwas Bill Johnson sat in his cubicle and waited for the staff to leave. It was five o’clock on a hot afternoon in July, the start of the annual plant shutdown....

Pillow Talk by James C. Clar

Editor’s Note: Read the previous adventures of the two Hawaii Police Detectives by clicking the link: “Beggars Would Ride” and “The Way The Cookie Crumbles” Pillow Talk by James C. Clar “You know, Jake,”...

Tweaker by Leah Erickson

Tweaker by Leah Erickson She had not used for two and a half months. It was her third time getting clean. It was her second time in a sober house. It was her first...

Stage Left by Devin James Leonard

Stage Left by Devin James Leonard I was sitting in the coffee shop, splicing a video on my laptop, when a pasty, wrinkled face with a thinning head of white hair crouched beside me...

One Infant Girl by Abe Margel

One Infant Girl by Abe Margel Worn out but unwilling to go straight home Theresa decided to walk through the park, past the off-leash dog enclosure and close to the children’s slides and swings....

The Speckled Rooster by Arthur Davis

The Speckled Rooster by Arthur Davis The Speckled Rooster, as he was known, stopped off at my farm while on his way back to the Big City. I had enough problems with the cows...

Going There by Ennis James Sheehan

Going There by Ennis James Sheehan Martina Scandilla was smart. She knew she was smart. Everyone around her knew she was smart. Smarty smart smart. Smartness went before her like an escort of proud...

Beggars Would Ride by James C. Clar

Editor’s Note: Read the previous adventure of the two Hawaii Police Detectives by clicking the link: “The Way the Cookie Crumbles by James C. Clar” Beggars Would Ride by James C. Clar “Sympathetic Magic...

Warehouse no. 4 by Caroline Taylor

Warehouse no. 4 by Caroline Taylor After all these years, the place still smells of coffee. It’s nearly overwhelmed by the stench of urine, feces, and dead animal, but it’s there. And now I...

Yours Truly by D.W. Moore

Yours Truly by D.W. Moore It was last April, during the late winter snowstorm, when my sister Agnes called me for the first time in, well, forever. She was frantic, blubbering about a phone...