Detective Conan adjusted his fedora and surveyed the broken glass scattered throughout the flowerbed. At some point last night, an intruder had broken into the Westfield home through this window… supposedly. Nothing had been taken, and the couple living there hadn’t seen anyone.
Conan breathed in through his nose, sorting the area’s scrambled scents.
I slam the folder shut on my desk.
“Nothing useful?” Detective Rowe asks as he hands me a mug of coffee.
I take a sip, hoping it will provide some mental clarity. “It’s like everyone in that bank had a blindfold on.”
“Detective Williams?” I turn to see the patrol officer manning the front desk walking into the bullpen,
My detective partner, Monica, was anything but optimistic. Her dark eyebrows were always arched above calculating eyes, and her lips were always set in a frown. She even refused to wear her hair down at work because she thought it made her look
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“All I mean is, one of us has got to make pretend niceties or they won’t like us.” Friedrich crouched down beside Aloysia in the nursery of the kidnapped child.
Aloysia did not bother to contain her eye roll. She had insisted
“What made you want to be a superhero, anyway?”
Leslie Lewis was startled by the question. The stone-faced lady filling out her superhero license application couldn’t really be looking for an answer. What was Leslie supposed to say, that she wanted to use her powers for good?
Professor Kaitlyn Valemon turned off the projector and faced her class. “So, if you’re ever in Ireland, make sure to look out for the fairy rings.”
“Have you been?” asked a student.
Kaitlyn’s heart panged. She’d always wanted to go to Ireland to do first-hand research of their myths and fairy tales.
Since their arrival in Engine 26, Girard Avenue Northeast had descended into chaos. Beyond the hulking pumper and unraveling hoses, onlookers had gathered at the perimeter established by the DCFD to watch the Brentwood colonial burn. Justine Buchowski was rounding out her initial site survey,
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Lazy, swinging jazz filtered in my window from the music school on the floor below my office. I swirled my glass, listening to how the clinking ice joined the quick staccato melody from the saxes and the rain outside. Every once in a while, a rumble of thunder or bright flash of lightning added some excitement to my personal concert.
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Officer Ward pulled up to the house. Danielle’s car sat in the driveway behind Taylor’s SUV. Coincidence? Might make his job easier—two birds, one stone—but he dreaded the coming conversation… or confession. Too close to this case, he cursed himself for not asking the chief to make this call.
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My neighborhood can be mean, and some might say I’m the meanest around, but I only do what I do to keep the riffraff in line. And, yeah, maybe I enjoy it a little.
One evening in late winter, with the pavement still slick from slushy snow and the
It were Beathan who first laid eyes upon the bones lodged between the rocks along the salt sea, looking like so much driftwood whitened by the sun. Tangled all around with long strands of golden hair, they were, as if bound in a most precious net. It were mournful to see.
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Today, the war ends for me. That’s what I tell myself, as I enter the royal suite. One last mission and I’ll satisfy the debt binding me to the Great Lord.
Darkness envelops me like a friend. My hand closes around the hilt tucked into my servant’s dress as I step over the snoring maidservant at the foot of the royal bed.
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