chainbooks Starter Chapter - Mistaken Identity

Last year I did some writing for Chainbooks which is a site where others finish stories that someone else started. It's kinda cool to see how stories evolve. So, if you've ever wanted to write a mystery but haven't the time or don't know how to plot the whole thing out, then how about just writing a chapter? Once the whole book is written, it will be published and those who helped write it get credit along with a copy.

Here's the start of a mystery that you might like to work on.  You can read the rest HERE and then if you'd like, add the next chapter.

Mistaken Identity

I gazed down at the body lying next to the overflowing dumper. The smell of rotting food and other things I didn't want to think about this early, especially on a Saturday, morning, covered the smell of blood. I tried not to breathe. Another hooker hadn't made it through the night. Blondie here, was the third one this month. A mini, mini-skirt and a barely-there halter-top made up her wardrobe. Only one of her red stilettos remained on her foot. How a person could actually walk in stilettos was a mystery to me. I only knew if I tried, I'd end up with a broken neck. I looked around for the other shoe but didn't see it anywhere. We probably wouldn't find it, either. Seemed like the killer took the right shoe from his victim. Of course, we'd have to look through the dumpster and all the other garbage along the alley but I was fairly certain the shoe wouldn't be found.

John Dawson, the county medical examiner made a note on his pad then looked up at me. "She's been dead right at four hours. Cause of death is most likely the multiple stab wounds but I'll know more after I exam her fully." He stood, shook his head. "Now is not a good time to be a blonde prostitute."

I told him thanks and that I'd check in with him later then glanced at my watch. She'd been killed about three in the morning, same as the others. I stood watching John while pondering the other similarities. All were tall, over six feet and all were blonde. Each of them had been left beside dumpsters but I wasn't sure if that was important. Did our killer hate tall blondes? Or was it just tall, blonde hookers? A uniformed officer approached.

"Detective Slone, we found her purse and identification." He handed me the purse and a wallet. I told him thanks, watched him head back to the search group. Officer Bryan Clarke. I'd had some dealings with him before. He had a good head on his shoulders and would make a good detective one of these days. I liked him.

Opening the wallet, I stared at the driver's license. The photo didn't match. I looked closer, imagined a long, blonde wig instead of the short brown hair in the picture. Yep, Sandra Williams. Something bothered me. A kind of nagging in the back of my mind. Like when you forget the word you want and it's right on the tip of your tongue. I knew it'd eat at me until I figured it out but there wasn't much I could do about it right now.

A chill ran up my spine as John zipped the body bag around the victim. Small, dark places gave me the creeps even after all these years and I was glad I'd be dead when they zipped my body bag. John said he'd see me soon and waved as he headed toward his vehicle. After making sure all the statements had been recorded, photos taken, the evidence had been bagged and tagged; I headed back to the station.

Sitting at my desk, I wished again for a private office and wondered whose ass I'd have to kiss to get one. Four desks sat pushed together in the center of the room. Only the desk diagonally from mine was being used now. Ted Birch sat there, feet on his desk, reading a copy of one of his hunting magazines. Ted wasn't long for retiring and didn't plan on getting shot so tended to hang around doing paperwork. And honestly, that was fine with me. He always managed to get on my nerves. His favorite thing was the retelling of all the cases he'd solved over the years and how he figured out who the bad guy was. I had a feeling he couldn't solve his way out of a wet paper bag these days. In fact, it was rumored he'd been politely told to retire or else.

Opening the case files from the two previous victims I stared at their photos. At one time, they both had been attractive women but life on the streets had taken its toll. What had made them who they ended up? Had their lives been so bad that prostitution seemed the better alternative? We'd probably never know.

chainbooks starter chapter - To The Rescue

This week, I'm sharing an excerpt from a romance starter chapter.  It's titled To The Rescue.  There's lots of ways this could go so I'd really like for someone to take the reins and write the next chapter.  You can read the rest HERE then add to it.

To The Rescue

Lynn Branson tossed the unruly map into the passenger seat of her rented KIA with a sigh. Pine trees lined both sides of the two-lane highway stretching out empty before her. She should have gotten a car with GPS but she'd been trying to save a few dollars. Now she was lost. Nothing to do but keep driving, take the next exit and hope to find someone who could tell her where she was.

The engine hesitated and the car slowed. Lynn glanced at the fuel gauge. "No, not empty. This can't be happening." She pumped the gas pedal then pressed it all the way to the floor. The engine died and the car continued to slow. Lynn steered toward the side of the road and manged to pull onto the grassy edge as the car came to a halt. Taking a deep breath, Lynn turned off the ignition. Now what? She remembered her cell phone. Last night she’d packed it in her suitcase and earlier this morning loaded that suitcase in the trunk of her rental car along with the rest of her bags.

Standing at the rear of her vehicle, she pulled her suitcase from the bottom of the trunk onto the top of her luggage and pulled the zipper along its track. A breeze brought the fragrance of pine trees and teased her hair. Panic washed over her when she couldn't find the phone. She fumbled through the neatly folded and stacked clothing until finally discovering it had slid to the bottom. She flipped it open, pressed the power button and waited. She pressed it again. Still the screen remained dark. Panic threatened to take control but she shoved the fear aside. So, she hadn't turned her phone off before packing and now the battery was dead. Someone would come along sooner or later and help her. After zipping her suitcase and closing the trunk, she turned and stared down the road the way she'd come. The last exit had been miles down the road, she'd never be able to walk back to the last convenience store. Better to wait for someone to find her. She sighed and returned to the driver's seat.

A half-empty bottle of water sat in the cup holder next to her. She took a sip, let the cool liquid slide down her throat. At least she had plenty to drink. A small cooler sat in the passenger side floor and held four more bottle of water along with some ice. In the seat next to her sat a large bag of corn chips, a jar of cheese dip along with an opened bag of chocolate. Lynn replaced the cap on her bottle and returned the bottle to the console. All she could do now was wait. She rolled down the windows a bit to let in the breeze, locked the doors and leaned against the window.

Lynn jerked awake. She turned to the window and looked up at the man who had tapped on the glass.

"Miss, are you okay?"

She nodded. "I'm fine, but my car is out of gas."

"I can give you a ride to Ridgewood. It's not that far ahead." He glanced back behind her car to his truck then down at her. "I'm Cameron."

"Thanks, but if you'll call someone, I'll wait here." Just because he looked trustworthy, didn't mean he was. She'd learned that lesson with Vince. Vince Carter, playboy handsome and with money to spend on fancy cars, expensive dinners and all the luxuries she didn't have. However, it hadn't taken long to find the dark side hidden under his designer suits.

Cameron shook his head. "Ma'am, I can't leave you here. My momma would disown me." He thought for a second, finally pulled a cell phone from his pocket and stuck it through the small opening in the window. "In the contact list you'll find the sheriff's office. Call them. Tell them who you are, that you are stuck out on highway seventeen and that Cameron Daily has offered you a ride to town. They'll vouch for me."

Lynn held the phone for a moment, then flipped open the cover. Maybe he could be trusted after all. She pressed the call buttoned, waited as the phone rang on the other end. A woman answered letting her know she'd reached the Ridgewood Sheriff's Department. Lynn explained why she was calling and listened as the woman laughed then confirmed Lynn would be safe with Cameron. Still listening, she unlocked the door and stepped out of the car.

"She wants to talk to you." Lynn handed Cameron the phone and studied him as he listened. Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, Cameron stood at least a foot above her five feet five inch height. Dark hair curled around his ears and his eyes were the color of melted chocolate. He smiled into the phone.

"Yes, ma'am. I understand." He took a breath. "That's what I told her. Yes ma'am." Cameron added another "Yes ma'am" then closed the phone and slid it into his pocket. Gazing down at Lynn, he ran a hand through his hair. "Ready?"

The Cell

Not long ago I discovered chainbooks and have been writing for them when I have a chance.  One of the things I really like is I can play in different genres without having to finish a whole story.  I can have part of an idea, play with it a bit then let someone else finish it. 

Here is part of one of those ideas.  You can read the rest of it HERE then if you'd like, add the next chapter to it.

The Cell

I hurried down the aisle, past the shoes and artificial flower stuff. By the time I reached lay-a-way, my jaws ached from clenching them so tight and I was doing the 'from-the-knees-down' kinda run that every woman who's waited too long to go knows about. Finally rushing into the restroom, I made it to the first open stall, barely closed the door and settled it into a sitting position without doing something I'd not done since first grade. I'd been new in school, my first day. I still remembered how they kids laughed and teased. After that, I taught myself to delay the need to go for hours at a time. Course, not drinking a lot of liquids helped but I'd never had an accident again. Oh, I'd cut it close a time or two but nothing serious.

Momma had always said "a bean's a bean but a pee's a relief" and while sitting there enjoying the relief, I took a moment to read the graffiti on the stall walls. Nothing much there, just the usual 'for a good time call Glenda at' with a phone number along with a couple 'I love' and the boy's name kinda thing. Above the toilet paper holder someone had scrawled a really crude poem about farting. I snickered a bit since I was alone.

That's when I saw the cell phone. Just laying on top of the toilet paper holder. It was one of those cheap, twenty dollar phones you buy to placate the kid who thinks she'll die if she doesn't have a phone to text her friends. I knew cause I'd bought the fifty dollar version. And for another fifty dollars a month I had unlimited talk, text and web. Not a bad deal really when you compared other plans. And believe me, I had.

I picked up the phone, pushed the green send key and watched the screen come to life. The airtime info showed just under fifty thousand minutes available and twenty-nine service days. Someone had just reloaded it and would probably be angry they'd lost it. But hey, my own phone was about to run out of service days and since things were a little tight in the cash flow area, I figured this was a gift I couldn't refuse. And like momma had said many a time, "finders keepers, losers weepers."

I finished up my business, stuck my new cell phone in my pocket and left the stall. After a quick washing of the hands, I strolled out of the restroom. No one had been looking for a lost phone in the restroom and no one stood at the service desk asking about a lost phone so I snagged an empty shopping cart that appeared to be abandoned and headed to the grocery section to get some ice cream to celebrate my good fortune.

After settling on fudge swirl along with some chocolate sauce to top it off, I used the self-checkout machine and headed across the parking lot to my car. Sliding the cell phone from my pocket, I deposited it in a cup holder then started the engine. I'd just sifted into reverse when the cell sang "you've got mail." After shifting back into park, it only took a moment to open the message and read, Time to play a game. Strange message since that wouldn't be possible on this version of phone, no games. It was one of the things that kept me from buying this model to begin with. I shrugged and then deleted the message.

I'd just returned the phone to its spot in the cup holder when it sang its "you've got mail" announcement again. Sorry, wrong number, no game playing here. I picked up the phone anyway, opened the message. Yes, you! Drive out of parking lot, turn right on Gibson Road. Go to the Sonic. Order a cherry limeade then wait until you hear from me. The phone sang again. I opened the message. Don't think about disobeying Carol. I sucked in a deep breath and dropped the phone. It slid between the seats and down beside the gas pedal. Glancing around the parking lot, no one seemed to be watching me. There were a couple of shoppers going toward the store and a guy with a cart full of stuff coming down the aisle but no one close by or that paid any attention to me.

"You've got mail" came from the phone by my foot. I jerked away bumping my elbow on the door. Maybe if I ignored it. But, whoever was on the other end, they knew my name. How could it be possible? I reached down, picked up the phone. Dread washed over me, my stomach churned. I touched the view button and swallowed hard. Go NOW or you won't live to regret it. Wrong, I regretted picking up the phone already.