Havok Publishing

Tag - professional sleuth

Mystery Monday featured image (season 2)

A Taste of Innocence

Darkness hangs around me in the twelve-by-twelve-foot room like the sour coating of lemon on my tongue.
“Can you tell us who did it?”
Detective Smith motions toward the glass pane, the only source of light flooding the room. A chalky film grits against my teeth.
I lick my lips and assess the five men

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Mystery Monday featured image (season 2)


Abe could feel the waitress’s eyes creeping toward the case notes as she hovered over the booth.
“Milk or sugar?” she offered.
“Just the coffee.” Abe snapped the folder shut in an aggressive motion. He had long since lost any patience for nosy onlookers and saw no need to treat them with tact.

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Mystery Monday featured image (season 2)

Magical Touch

My radio buzzed. A body had been discovered in the gray sector. Hopefully it would be a quick study since my shift ended in an hour.
“Officer Toki!” An elf, his face partially obscured by dark hair, flagged me down as I reached my squad car. “Wait up!”
“I’ve got a call.”

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Fantasy Friday featured image (season 2)

A Study in Chaos

“Glad you’re here, Miss Morgan.” Detective Eastwood handed me a coffee.
“Thanks. And I really do prefer Rose.” He grinned as I accepted the warm paper cup, telling me he’d ignore the request.
I took a sip and stepped into the victim’s living room. I grimaced at the coffee’s sour taste,

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Samara Spade and the Curse of the Menatari Falcon

I steadied myself against the dash as the car leaned into the cliff. “You really need to go so fast?”
The rusty green Yugo that Aba had rented shifted down. “Sam, I told you to stay home.” He plunged the accelerator into the floor. “But you say that you’re family now and must come with.

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The Case of the Serial Burglar

Tony took a long drag from the cigarette as he glared at the tattered sign on his office door. “Private ye.” He exhaled, and a cloud of gray smoke blocked the letters from his vision. He stared at the smoldering cigarette butt before rubbing it onto blank space

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I pulled the handcuffs from my belt and turned to the drug dealer, whom my partner held at gun point. The guy had somewhere in the area of twenty-seven arms and depending on what family he was from might have another—usually with a gun—hiding up one of his noses. I groaned.

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The Encantado

Eamon pressed his back against the stairwell’s cold cement wall, an icy chill brushing between his shoulder blades.
Of all the other spawn-filled dredge pits in Chicago, why did this particular sceallóg have to spirit Lorna away to the fae market?
Reaching inside his leather coat, he fingered the grip of the handgun

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Mr. Samara Spade and the Case of the Spurious Spouse

This, this so not my job. This what Sam do, and I maybe help a little. I drive the car.
Still, there’s no one else. I need my Samara. And if I don’t find her, no one will.
I back up. Explain. We were supposed to meet at airport for our honeymoon. Sam said she had some last-minute details to fix.

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Glisent and Hooke

Intoxicating notes floated through the air as I quietly opened the door. I took a deep breath and entered.
My former detective partner had her back to me and clearly hadn’t heard me enter. I hesitated before clearing my throat to announce my presence.
She stopped and set the violin down. “Isaiah Glisent.”

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The Face In The Ring

“You have to admit, Ramses, this round of The Demigods of Demolition was awesome. Watching Hercules pin Nessus the Centaur in three rounds was amazing,” Bernie said.
We were waiting for a taxi and hiding from the varied rush of people and creatures leaving Asterian Arena, home to the Alliance of Legends Wrestling Federation. I’d never seen my partner so animated.

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Samara Spade and the Case of the Mystified Misfit

Aba was gone.
I massaged my temples to clear my thoughts. He’d be back in a week from the old country after clearing up some marriage paperwork. I had to keep busy.
I picked up my purse to leave when a man stumbled in.
He was as unkempt and golden as my Aba was groomed and dark. His long, greasy tresses draped across his shoulders. His clothes, ripped and dirty, barely hung on his gaunt frame

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