A California Online Magazine with Local Focus and Global Appeal
Bev trusted her instincts, always had. So far she figured that’s what had kept her out of harm’s way all these years. Her mother moaned and complained about all the crazy schemes that her daughter had come up with. Though this time her mother said that none of her other ideas sounded half as ridiculous as this one. “You’ll end up a pile of bones,” were her mother’s last words as Bev closed the door behind her and descended the steps of the front porch.
{ 0 comments }
No one in the neighborhood put on a better Halloween display than Diana Hunter. Every year, she added new decorations to scare young children and delight older trick-or-treaters. Last year, she hung a two-foot black velveteen spider from a wispy net between the birch trees; the net’s threads were so fine, trespassers who cut across her grass became entangled in the creature’s web.
{ 1 comment }
The five student nurses stood at the security desk, waiting. Outside the glass doors, a landscaped lawn gasped in the August heat.
“No answer,” the guard said, one hand over the phone’s mouthpiece. “He’s not in his office.”
One of the students, Nancy Hines, nodded. “We’re a little early—”
{ 1 comment }
I wrote like a fiend the first few weeks of the pandemic. My own wedding and event flower business was shut down, and I was on my own. I have worked at home for years, but this was different. I couldn’t go get my favorite coffee, or enjoy happy hour with friends over chips and salsa. After two months, even I was going stir crazy, so I decided to revisit one of my favorite books, and branch out to read other mysteries. There was comfort in books.
{ 4 comments }
“You should get rid of that damn cat,” Mark said for the umpteenth time.
I ignored him and continued wiping antiseptic on his arm, a task made more difficult by his squirming in anger and glaring at my beauteous kitty Lucy, who alternatively hissed at him and meowed at me for attention, even batting my arm as I tried to minister to Mark.
{ 0 comments }
Half a dozen servers gathered around Vince’s table and sang a jazzed-up version of Happy Birthday to him. There was a lot of hand clapping and stomping of feet. He shot his wife an I-thought-we-agreed-to-not-do-this-kind-of-crap look, but smiled at the singers. He politely said, “Thank you,” when they finished.
{ 1 comment }
“What I can’t figure out,” Nate said, as he lay in the dirt behind a clump of cactus near Rosie Hapwell’s house, “is why you married that idiot in the first place.”
Before Rosie could reply, another bullet whined off a rock three feet away. Both of them ducked their heads and crawled to the dry wash where Nate had left his horse.
{ 5 comments }
“I’m very sorry Judge Blankenship, but there is a young woman in the waiting area who insists on seeing you now,” the maître d’ said as he handed the judge a business card.
{ 0 comments }
Five minutes had passed.
Detective Winston Elliot Browne, nicknamed WEB, admired the brass door knocker. He raised the ring being held in the lion’s mouth and let it fall. He smiled, picked it up again, and tapped it three times on the knocker plate. Several seconds passed before he heard a mousy voice from inside the mansion.
{ 5 comments }
I was in the Chart Room, nursing an Abita Amber, standing back by the jukebox,” Justin said. “I heard these two guys sitting at the bar. They say this old fella has a cardboard box full of money. Doesn’t trust banks, he’s been throwing his dollars in the box his whole life.
{ 2 comments }
Joe Killoran ran a comb through his hair in front of the bedroom mirror. At the age of fifty-one, he still had most of it, although it had grown thinner on the top, and the brown had turned to silver at the temples. There were more lines around his eyes as well, but he decided they added character to his face.
{ 0 comments }
I finished ringing up a purchase by an off-season tourist, and was watching the woman pass out the door when my boss dropped her bombshell.
“Marsha,” Trudy Bracken told me, “I believe I know who is responsible for the shop’s recent rash of thefts.”
{ 0 comments }
The first time I laid eyes on the well-seasoned lovebirds was in a hotel lounge overlooking the Boston Common. Her lipstick too red and his lapels too wide for 2015, they were having the time of their lives doing the Bossa Nova like it was still in style.
{ 3 comments }
“We can’t afford that.”
Margaret had spent a good chunk of time helping a customer select a pattern and yarn. In a second, that customer’s husband killed what would have been Margaret’s best sale in months.
{ 16 comments }
Matilda is a friendly, feisty furry ninja who loves to play and who is brimming with energy and personality who is 1 year old! She was found at the intersection of a busy road and the freeway and was scooped up by a Good Samaritan! She greets you with cute little meows and she loves to cuddle once she’d finished playing. She’s been fostered with other cats and she like to be the center of attention. Matilda is available from the Cat House on the Kings.
