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Terrific Tales

High Anxiety: Mystery Short Story

IN THE September 9 ISSUE

FROM THE 2017 Articles,
andMysteryrat's Maze,
andTerrific Tales
SECTIONS

by John M. Floyd


Joe McClellan led a simple life. He had a wife, two kids, a mortgage, a respectable job, and very few complications. No excitement, no mystery, no oddities. At least until now.

{ 6 comments }

The Fat Man: Mystery Short Story

IN THE August 26 ISSUE

FROM THE 2017 Articles,
andMysteryrat's Maze,
andTerrific Tales
SECTIONS

by Patricia Della Valle


The big black Mercedes was entering the town of Fitzville. It was preceded by the sounds of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. The townspeople recognized the car and its musical horn and watched as it stopped in front of the Cigar Emporium. A tall, fat man emerged. He walked through the front door of the shop and soon reappeared, a chubby Cuban cigar in his mouth. He blew out a cloud of smoke and waved to the people. The man was a private detective often called by the Fitzville police when a major crime took place. His name was Eugene Oregon.

{ 2 comments }

by Michael Bracken


When Buck Johnson rolled out of bed and his feet slapped against the cold hardwood floor, his thoughts weren’t on that day’s scheduled train robbery. Instead, he concentrated on leaving the bedroom without waking his wife, who was snuggled warmly on the far side of the bed.

{ 3 comments }

by Guy Belleranti


Sheriff Estelle Moon finished her inspection of Laura Taylor’s bedroom window. “No sign of forced entry. You sure it was locked?”
“I thought so,” the attractive sixtyish woman said. “But it was wide open when I returned home, and my jewelry was gone. So was my lovely music box.” She wiped away a tear.

{ 2 comments }

by Judy Penz Sheluk


The water in Georgian Bay is chilly, even in the middle of July. In late May, it was downright frosty, but that didn’t stop the dozen or so members of the Cycopath Triathlon Team from diving right in. All but one, a finely muscled woman named Cherry, wore long-sleeved neoprene wetsuits. Cherry went sleeveless.

{ 9 comments }

by Larry W. Chavis


“Think Hubby Dear would enjoy this? Let’s find out. Or–let’s talk. I’ll be in touch.”
Shelby let the slip of paper slide from her fingers to fall on the photograph it had accompanied inside a large, manila envelope, the photograph showing her and Marcus Rivers in flagrante delicto.

{ 12 comments }

by Diana Deverell


Special Agent Dawna Shepherd thumped the Fiat’s rusting roof. “Eleven pounds of TNT, right in here. I click my remote, these folks will move.”
Foreign Service Officer Casey Collins focused on one of the dozen shoppers crowding the pitted sidewalk in front of the shabby Budapest storefront. “I won’t mind losing the redhead.”

{ 2 comments }

by Gary Hoffman


Jacob was sweating and his stomach felt nauseated, but his Uncle Leo always made him nervous at these meetings. He watched as his uncle did his usual slow dance over his ledger books. The old man would run his finger down each row of columns and then look up at Jacob and give him a half-smile when he got to the bottom. He seemed to have a calculator in his head.

{ 3 comments }

by Amy Denton


Bride of the Rat God?” I asked Michael Beinecke, eying him across the low bookshelf that separated us.
“Absolutely,” Michael replied, disappearing from view for a few moments then reappearing with a handful of sodden paper that he stuffed in a trash bag. “This is disgusting.”

{ 7 comments }

by Tom Raber


“We’ll kill him July Fourth. Think, Dummy, think. All the firecrackers going off, a gunshot will blend right in. We kill him in plain sight, or I should say, plain sound.”

{ 6 comments }

by Gail Farrelly


Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water.
That was more than two years ago. They haven’t been seen since.
Okay, okay, strictly speaking, the twins didn’t go to “fetch a pail of water.” It didn’t happen exactly like the nursery rhyme.

{ 7 comments }

by Margaret Mendel


Pop died suddenly. There were no warnings. He had slightly elevated blood pressure and the doctor said he was pre-diabetic, but with diet and standard meds there didn’t seem to be anything to worry about. I guess when your time’s up, there’s not much you can do about it.

{ 15 comments }

by Joan Leotta


John scanned the crowd. He stopped his survey when he noticed a tall, willowy redhead looking at him. Red was partially encircled by several of the conference’s mostly male attendees. They were obviously entranced by her smile and her form-fitting green wool dress. Her emerald gaze, however, looked beyond her coterie of admirers.

{ 2 comments }

by John M. Floyd


Catherine Munsen was less than thrilled about her job. In fact, until the day she met Frank Goodman, she thought it was downright boring.
Catherine was a part-time teller at the Marshlands Bank in Gulf Springs, Mississippi. Her actual position, though not recorded anywhere on her job description sheet, was a combination of teller and secretary and supply sergeant. The only thing she was not allowed to do was process loans.

{ 9 comments }

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