A Long, Hard Look (Chapter 40)

It’ll make more sense if you start with Chapter 1

We piled into Millie’s car and drove to Sam’s apartment, just a few blocks from the Mills Building. I felt like a school of fish, swarming from the office to Millie’s to Sam’s to who knew where.

Fish do that when there’s a shark chasing them.

It didn’t seem necessary to be secretive about going up to the apartment. Either Gertrude was watching us or she wasn’t, and I didn’t have a brilliant way to avoid being spied on by someone who meant it. I couldn’t even keep her from coming into my apartment and cutting me open.

The apartment was dark. Continue reading “A Long, Hard Look (Chapter 40)”


A Long, Hard Look (Chapter 30)

It’ll make more sense if you start with Chapter 1

She was a dozen yards from the car before I stopped gasping like a fish and got out.

I waited until I’d caught up so I didn’t have to yell. That, and I didn’t have the breath to speak. Or the words.

“What on earth are you talking about? How am I supposed to do that? You said she wouldn’t want to know? You’re not making any sense.”

I guess those were the words.

“It’s not logical, it’s emotional.”

“Okay, I get that. What about the rest? How am I supposed to let her know this without her resenting that it’s not coming from you, without her not flying off the handle and punching Everard Mills in the nose?”

Continue reading “A Long, Hard Look (Chapter 30)”


A Long, Hard Look (Chapter 20)

It’ll make more sense if you start with Chapter 1

“Are you going somewhere?” I didn’t understand why she’d stood.

“To talk to Sam. She’s behind this and I want to know why.”

Millie stood. “You don’t know that, Darcy. Gertrude could still be involved.”

“Millie’s right. I believe that you see Sam’s hand in this. But that doesn’t rule out Gertrude pulling the strings. Besides, you told me Gertrude was behind us meeting at the library, behind your boss pushing his buttons. She’s involved.”

Continue reading “A Long, Hard Look (Chapter 20)”


A Long, Hard Look (Chapter 10)

It’ll make more sense if you start with Chapter 1

I took a step back. A half a step. The typing rooms are small.

“Gilbert Breville?”

That threw her. The waterworks shut off.

“How do you know that? We don’t have the same last name. How could you know that?”

She was making me nervous. It came out in my voice.

“Apparently it’s a running gag. You’re the second sister to claim him today. First was a tall blonde. Nothing like you at all.”

Continue reading “A Long, Hard Look (Chapter 10)”


A Long, Hard Look (Chapter 1)

It was one of those days when breakfast wanted to be cheap whiskey straight from the bottle.

They came less often lately, but they came. Five years isn’t long enough. Maybe there is no long enough.

Since I sleep above my office I can hear when someone opens the door and goes in. The window rattles and the door jams a little so there’s a short sharp shriek when it opens, and again when it closes, glass rattling the whole time. One potential client glared at it and left without a word.

There’s nothing written on the door, fancy “Private Investigator” signs or things like that. Officially, I’m neither: private, nor an investigator.

Continue reading “A Long, Hard Look (Chapter 1)”


My Biggest Fan

BestBeloved01Some days, I just need a cheerleader to tell me I can do anything.

Some days, I need to be told I’m heading the wrong direction.

Some days, I need someone to let me cry over nothing.

Some days, I need to know that my failure wasn’t so bad.

Some days, I need someone to laugh at my jokes.

Some days, I need someone to laugh at me, so I don’t take myself too seriously.

Most days, I need ’em all.

And every day, I get exactly what I need.

December 26th was our 10th anniversary. Here’s to 10 million more.

BestBeloved03BestBeloved02

Chasing Attention is a Bad Thing (but It’s So Hard Not to Do)

series of photos by RenĂ© te Witt http://www.sxc.hu/profile/renetewittTwo weeks ago I wrote a post at my Someday Box blog which I’m inordinately proud of. My fans responded by making it the busiest day I’ve ever had at any blog in 11 years. By a factor of 3 — yes, one post tripled my best day ever.

And now, the following days of normal traffic look puny and sad.

When kids say something surprising and get a laugh, they do it again.

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Right and Wrong and Tolerance and Best

photo http://www.sxc.hu/photo/857772 by Jose Bernalte http://www.mrkstudios.com/Unprecedented tolerance. Personal freedoms. No idea left behind. DIY.

Everybody’s opinion is equal, and opinions are more important than facts.

I have seen people who can’t spell or punctuate properly, in the comments on Amazon, dismiss the writings of brilliant minds like Daniel Kahneman simply because they haven’t bothered to find out who he is and they happen to disagree with him.

It is popular to pretend that all ideas are equal. All roads lead to Rome. Every method has merits, and everyone should find their own path.

Tolerance is great. But there is still, often enough, a “best way” to accomplish something.
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Seriously Overreacting to an Annoying Early Morning Noise

I’m writing some experimental fiction as part of my daily writing exercises. You’re seeing it because, though it’s not haute cuisine, it’s not egg shells and coffee grounds either. These will show up here and there, now and then.

The constant thrum vibrates my chest. Somewhere, a big engine turns, a little too fast. The pistons push the crankshaft past its limit, setting up harmonic distortions.

Over the thrum is a rhythmic oom oom oom, another layer of vibration.

The snow begins to lose coherence as its resonant frequency is touched twice in each cycle. Patches collapse flat to the ground, leaving three foot deep sinkholes in the white crystal powder.
Continue reading “Seriously Overreacting to an Annoying Early Morning Noise”


An Apple Tree

I’m writing some experimental fiction as part of my daily writing exercises. You’re seeing it because, though it’s not haute cuisine, it’s not egg shells and coffee grounds either. These will show up here and there, now and then.

Standing under the tree, his feet squished in the soggy lawn. Above, his brother’s foot scraped against the trunk of the apple tree.

“Ouch.”
Continue reading “An Apple Tree”