“Off with her head!”
“First the sentencing, then the case,” chanted the courtiers.
Alice bobbed a quick curtsy as best she could while being held between two burly guards. “If you please, Your Majesty, might I know why I’m here?”
“Don’t play coy with me, child!” The Queen pursed her lips. A scowl highlighted
“I’m telling you, someone tried to break into my house!”
Aaron sighed. “Ma’am, you said yourself that nothing was taken. And there are no signs of forced entry. Nothing seems out of the ordinary.”
It was the third time this week Ms. Takkenridge had called about a break-in, but they were always false alarms.
Footsteps creak across the upstairs floorboards, and I crack open an eye. Golden sunlight spills through the oversized bay window and across the fluffy white carpet. My tail wags. It’s my favorite time of day—one we never miss.
The air shimmers.
Miriel’s footsteps are no longer above. She’s sliding into her armchair
The air vibrated with a low, ominous hum. Usually, that meant the refrigerator was acting up again, its door rattling just enough to dislodge any unguarded treats—and my cue to position myself for any falling bits of deliciousness. But this hum… This hum was different. It was laced with the subtle snap of
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“Can you get the door, Miriel? Peaches here is a real handful,” Stephanie Brent said to me as she struggled with a little orange tabby. It snarled shrilly and scrabbled at her pink jacket’s collar. Tyler Galaro and his Shetland ponies had already arrived.
We were at Ladbrook Assisted Living—a nice place,
Miriel prided herself on noticing things others didn’t. Like the way the Grieves girl was concentrating more on a young man jogging through the park than on her chess match with the elderly gentleman in front of her. And the way the jogger, when he passed Greives by, gave a slight turn
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You loosen your tie and get out of the car into the blazing heat at the end of a long summer day. It would take too much energy to go home and cook, so takeout it is! Again.
Inside the fast-food joint, the air conditioning barely makes a dent on the swelter. The girl
“Don’t hitchhike over Kaelan Ridge,” growled the scruffy truck driver as he downed a coke outside the gas station. “No one ever makes it across.”
A rough laugh had escaped Daena’s lips at the old-timer’s warning. He obviously didn’t know Daena Austin.
* * *
“Ethel, we’ve got another drifter.”
A thin smile
Ethel limped through the park and sat at her usual table, the chess pieces already arranged on the gray and black terrazzo squares. She handed a footlong drenched in mustard to her informant, with a crisp one hundred tucked against the tin foil, and moved pawn to e4.
“Grazie, la Piccolina,” Sam said,
The operational excellence awards leer at me as I creep through the executive suite lobby, a satchel slung over one shoulder of my gray business suit. I pause before a door with the words “Robert Burgle, Undermine Global CEO” before pushing my way inside.
Burgle, a powerfully built man, slouches in an ergonomic swivel
I pop in an earbud and settle into my rideshare from O’Hare. The latest episode of my favorite podcast, Good Grieves, just dropped. I press play. “Ethel Grieves keeps a low profile compared to her more flamboyant siblings. She’s known for taking legitimate jobs, always under her real name, and resigning before she’s charged
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I stormed through mahogany doors into our mansion’s library. Due to my limp, my sensible shoes’ wooden heels hammered an uneven beat on the hardwood floor. My older siblings flinched, looked up from their phones, and winced a bit as I scanned their faces. When we were kids, Milton used to call my current
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