Thirteen - A Baker's Dozen by Vivra Beene

Do you like your scalp tingled, your spine chilled, and goose bumps along your arms? If you do, you will enjoy this collection of stories showing that perpetrators of perceived perfect crimes don't always go unpunished.

Get your copy here.

Flight of Fantasy - Jean Lauzier

Let your imagination take flight...

Ride the Night Wind, converse with a dragon, join "Woof" as he stalks his prey. Will the mirror's revelation come true, and just what does one do with a chamber full of pumpkins?

Flight of Fantasy also includes a preview of Dragons of Blue Water, the award-winning sequel to Dragons of Jade. 

Order your copy here.

This is a collection of short fantasy stories, not a novel. 

Six Pack of Murder by Jean Lauzier

Murder happens –

And no matter the reason, there’s always a crime to be solved and a bad guy that needs to be caught. Within the pages of Six Pack of Murder, you’ll find good guys and bad along with those who strive to balance the scales of justice. Just beware; sometimes things aren’t as they appear.

Get your copy here.

*****

Since I wrote this, I naturally like it. Hope you do too. 

"Tis the Season Anthology

Need something to read but not sure just what you're in the mood for?

Try the East Texas Writer's Association Anthology! There's a story for every reading mood along with poems.

I have a short story and a poem in this anthology.


All funds go to the East Texas Writers' Association to fund events, pay for guest speakers and such.


You can get your copy on Amazon, either paper or for your Kindle.


If you'd like an autographed copy...email me and we'll work out the details.

Mystery We Write Blog Tour - Earl Staggs

Mystery author Earl Staggs recently received his second Derringer Award for Best Short Story of the Year. His novel MEMORY OF A MURDER earned a long list of Five Star reviews. SHORT STORIES OF EARL STAGGS, a collection of 16 Mystery tales, is available in print and ebook. He served as Managing Editor of Futures Mystery Magazine and as President of the Short Mystery Fiction Society. He’s a contributing blog member of Murderous Musings and Make Mine Mystery and a frequent speaker at conferences.

Thank you, Jean, for hosting this stop on the Mystery We Write Blog Tour. While the tour bus is being cleaned and fueled, I thought I’d offer up an excerpt from my new novel called TALL CHAMBERS: JUSTIFIED ACTION. Tall Chambers is an operative with a secretive agency which tracks terrorists worldwide.  If the agency determines a terrorist group is an imminent threat to innocent lives, the agency puts them out of business by whatever means necessary.

In this scene, Tall has captured the worst of the lot - Anatole Remski, an Iranian with a Russian father – and has him in an interrogation room at an Army base near Kabul, Afghanistan.

There are at least two sides to everything, even if one is completely wrong.  In this scene, I wanted to let Remski give his side of the story and reveal why he is devoted to killing American soldiers.

* * * * *

Remski’s appearance up close surprised Tall. He’d seen a five-year-old picture of him taken when he was a high school teacher.  At that time, with his smooth features and short, combed blond hair, he looked more like a mild-mannered accountant than a ruthless terrorist. The man he’d captured looked twenty years older. His hair was darker, longer, and hung like strings. His face looked drawn and weathered like a man who’d been through hell.

Tall smiled when he entered the room and sat across the table from him. “My name is Chambers, Mr. Remski. I have some questions for you. If you give me the answers I need, I’ll see that they go easier on you in court.”

Remski grinned, but didn’t speak. He held the grin and his eyes narrowed. He seemed to be studying Tall, sizing him up. “That’s very kind of you, Mr. Chambers,” he said in a soft voice with a distinct Arab accent, “but I’ll do fine without your assistance. I advise you not to waste your time or mine.”

“I’m not wasting my time. I need the names of your associates. You’re responsible for bombings which killed many American soldiers. The authorities will make you pay for that. If you cooperate, I’ll do what I can to help you.”

Remski’s grin faded, and he turned his head away. He sighed, almost as if bored. “All they have is hearsay with regard to my participation in those events, Mr. Chambers. As to actual proof, they have nothing. Besides, the killing of American soldiers in this country is not considered a crime by many people here. Weigh that against the many thousands you have slaughtered, and it amounts to very little.”

“You’re wrong,” Tall said. “Regardless of how you feel about our presence here, those who judge you will be bound by international law to sentence you in accordance with the crimes you’ve committed. As for the casualties we’re responsible for, no one regrets them more than I do, but they’re the unfortunate consequence of war. That’s very different from what you do.”

Remski turned back to him “Is it, Mr. Chambers? Why is it different?” His voice was strong and harsh now. His blue eyes had taken on a hardness that wasn’t there before. “Is it because you shout words like freedom and democracy while you murder innocent people? You Americans think you have a right to invade other countries and force them to change. Where is it written that your way is the way for all people? How do you rationalize killing innocent people to force other countries to do everything the American way?”

“That’s not what we do. Our goal is to help people gain their freedom and govern themselves.”

Remski smirked. “You think you’re qualified to tell others how to govern a country? Your country is bankrupt financially and morally, Mr. Chambers. Take your soldiers home. Take care of your own problems and let us take care of ours. Stop waving your red, white and blue flag while you slaughter our citizens in the name of freedom.”

“We don’t slaughter people. We’re only here to help.”

With fierce anger burning in his eyes, Remski shouted, “Do this for me, Mr. Chambers. Go to my village in Abuzak. Stand over the graves of my parents, my wife and my son. Tell them how you marched into their village to help them by lining them up and shooting them. Tell them they were killed for their freedom.”

Tall was caught off guard. He knew of the massacre at Abuzak. A squad of American soldiers marched into the small village looking for subversives and killed every man, woman and child they found. “I’m sorry about what happened to your family. That was a terrible tragedy and never should have happened. The soldiers who went into that village were wrong. They were tried and punished for what they did.”

Remski leaned over the table. He lowered his voice, but not his vehement anger. “Tried and punished? The soldiers who slaughtered my family, my entire village, were discharged and sent home to their own families. Their leader was sentenced to ten years in prison and was released after three years. Do you consider that adequate punishment for what they did?”

“No, in all honesty, I do not. Is that why you kill Americans? Because a small group of them went out of control and committed a horrible act? Nothing can compensate you for your loss, but what you’re doing is just as wrong. Seventeen of your associates were killed tonight. Give me the names of the others in your group. They don’t have to die.”

Remski hung his head and wagged it. When he spoke, he seemed more in control of himself. “No, Mr. Chambers, I will give you no names. The people you murdered tonight are in the arms of Allah and will be rewarded for their sacrifice. Those who remain will continue our war against you as long as you invade our country and slaughter our families. If they give their lives, they, too, will be rewarded. You cannot stop them from doing what they were born to do.” He looked squarely into Tall’s eyes with more hatred and defiance than Tall had ever seen. “And you can’t stop me.”

“Look around,” Tall said. “We have stopped you.”

Remski leaned back in his chair and sneered. “We’ll see about that, Mr. Chambers.”

Ben Goldman opened the door and stuck his head in. “They’re here for him.”

Tall stood and watched two burly policemen place Remski in chains and lead him from the room.

As he passed by Tall, he stopped. “We’ll meet again someday, Mr. Chambers, and when that day comes, I assure you, you will die.”

            “We’ll see about that, Mr. Remski.”

* * * * *

And that’s how Remski justifies what he does, the other side of the coin, so to speak. I’d love to know if anyone who reads this has ever used this technique in a book.

Shortly after the above scene, Remski escapes to continue his crusade against Americans. Everything changes for Tall when someone dear to him is killed, and he takes on a crusade of his own to find who was responsible and set things right.

TALL CHAMBERS – JUSTIFIED ACTION will soon be available in print and ebook form. Watch for announcements on my website: http://earlwstaggs.wordpress.com

Thanks also for everyone who came by. You’re invited to visit my website now where you can:

. . .read Chapter One of my Mystery novel, MEMORY OF A MURDER.

. . .read a short story called “The Day I Almost Became a Great Writer.” Some say it’s the funniest story I’ve ever written.

. . .read “White Hats and Happy Trails,” a story about the day I spent with my boyhood idol, Roy Rogers.  There’s even a picture of my wife and me with Roy to prove it’s all true.

. . .check out SHORT STORIES OF EARL STAGGS, a collection of 16 of my published tales of mystery, ranging from hardboiled to humorous. Available in Print and ebook form.

But don’t go yet. Please leave a comment while you’re here and you may win a free book.

At the end of the tour, I’ll draw two names from those who left comments.  The first name drawn will receive a signed print copy of MEMORY OF A MURDER, a mystery novel with a long list of Five Star Reviews.  The second name drawn will receive their choice of a signed print copy or an ebook of SHORT STORIES OF EARL STAGGS, a collection of 16 tales of mystery from hardboiled to humorous.

Now you can go on to the next stop on the tour with my appreciation for stopping by.

And thank you again, Jean, for your hospitality.

Earl Staggs

Email: earlstaggs@sbcglobal.net

Website: http://earlwstaggs.wordpress.com

 

Mystery Monday - Midnight Snack

A while back, I was given a prompt to write a story using only dialogue. This is the result. Hope you enjoy.

Midnight Snack

            “Finally, it‘s about time you got here. What’d you tell Bill?”

            “Just that you and Dave had a fight, that you were upset and needed someone to talk to. I told him not to wait up for me, that I might stay over. Of course, he was practically asleep on the couch before I left so that’s where he’ll probably be in the morning. He’s such  a bore lately. Where'd Dave go?”

            “He didn’t go anywhere. Come on. I’ll show you. “

            “Oh god! Is he dead?”

            “Yeah, he’s dead. But I warned him. I told him what would happen if he ever cheated on me.  He asked for it. You know, he didn’t even lie about it. Said she made him feel like a real man. Well, she won’t be making him feel anything ever again,I can tell you that.”

            “Did he tell you who she is? I mean, do you know who he was seeing?”

            “I didn’t even ask. Right now though, we got to get rid of him. I saw a couple gators when I jogged over Possum Creek yesterday. We can dump him there. It’ll be days before they find him, if they ever do. Wrap the shower curtain around him.I’ve got the truck backed up to the deck. We can just slide him right in.”

            “What are you going to tell everyone? Sooner or later someone will come looking for him.”

            “Yeah, all his buddies down at Joe’s.I’ll just say we had a fight, he left and didn‘t come home. It’s almost the truth. The Johnson‘s will confirm the fight and that he left.”

            “But he did come home. What about that?”

            “They were asleep by then. A 747 could  land in their yard and not wake them. Besides, he parked in the back when he came home. Thanks to the privacy fence Dave insisted on building, they can’t see back there. Now, let’s take out the trash.”

            “God, he’s heavy. How are we going ever going to get him over the bridge?”

            “I’ve got a plan. Don’t worry. Follow me in your car.”

            “Alright, I’ll meet you there.”

            “Don’t wimp out on me. I need you. You don’t want me going to jail do you?”

            “Of course not. You’re my best friend. I won’t let you down.”

*

            “Hold onto the shower curtain. I’ll ease the truck away and he’ll slide right out. Ready?”

            “Go real slow. Oh god, oh god, oh god. He’s out.”

            “Now to get him over the bridge. Here gator, gator. Time for a midnight snack. Grab his feet, pull him up and over the rail. Leave the shower curtain, I’ll get rid of that later.There’s a construction site not far from here. They won’t notice it in the dumpster. Good, now help me shove him over.”

            “I’m going to have nightmares for weeks.”

            “No, you won’t. I mean, you only helped a friend. It’s not like it’s your fault. Oh wait, it is partly your fault.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “Did you really think you’d get away with it? That I wouldn’t figure it out? You’ve been wearing that same cheap perfume since sixth grade.  When Dave came home from his business trip last month, his clothes reeked of it.”

            “Come on, I’m not the only person who wears Temptation.”

            “True, but you were gone the same weekend. I called. Thought a girl’s night out would be fun. Bill told me about your business trip.”

            “I was in meetings all weekend. Honest. It really was a business trip.”

            “Maybe. I couldn’t prove it one way or the other so I started following Dave. The Blue Moon hotel on Tuesday and Thursdays at lunch. Then there was the day y’all didn’t even make it to the hotel. Last Wednesday wasn’t it? I always hated doing it in the front seat but you seemed to be enjoying it.”

            “I didn’t mean to…  I couldn’t help it. And he said it was over, that he was filing for divorce.”
            “It doesn’t matter. You were my best friend. There’s no excuse. No matter what he said.”

            “What are you going to tell Bill? He knows I went to your place. He’ll expect me back in the morning.”

            “You never made it to my place. Just cause you said I called, doesn’t mean I did.  Besides, once he finds out about you and Dave, he’ll be more angry than concerned.”

            “Please…  You don’t have to do this.”

            “Yeah I do. You were a good friend but it‘s too late. Now, you’re dessert for the gators. Bye Pam.”

            “I’m sor…”

            “Look out below. Open up boys, this one will make you feel like a real gator.”

 End

If you like this, you'll probably enjoy Six Pack of Murder. It's six short stories along with the opening of my soon to be released novel, Dark Descent. 

Mystery Monday - Found Guilty

Found Guilty

"Jerk!" I snapped my cell shut and tossed it into the passenger seat. I wanted to call him something else but decided to save that until the next time I saw him. He knew I'd had plans for tonight. I'd already refused to work late twice today.

I'd be seeing him soon too. Marshal Edwards didn't recognize the address but I did and something told me it was going to be a long night. Taking a deep breath, I steered toward the next driveway, looked both ways then pulled a u-turn and headed back to town.

It took me ten minutes to make the drive. Long enough to calm down and keep my job but not long enough to think about my ruined evening and get angry. Instead, I searched my brain for everything I knew about her honor, Margaret Richards.

Last week, I'd spent all Wednesday in her courtroom. She had been tough but fair. A little over the top and a tad pompous but what else could you expect when your every decision is applauded by fifty people. I still couldn't understand why anyone would want to spend all day in court if they didn't have to but heck, I'm just a cop so what do I know. It was obvious Judge Richards enjoyed the attention though. The way she played to her fans had me wondering if her secret desire was to be the next Judge Judy.

Judge Richards lived in the upscale part of town. Trick-or-treaters ran from house to house in fancy store bought costumes carrying plastic jack-o-lanterns, which reminded me of the party I'd be missing tonight. I vowed to make Edwards wish he'd called someone else by the time I was through with him.

The streetlights came on just as I turned off the main street. A wrought iron gate blocked the drive so I stopped at the speaker box and pushed the "call" button. Static was my only reply. I grabbed a ponytail holder from the ashtray and pulled my hair up then gave the button another jab. This time I got more static along with a barely understandable "May I help you?" It only took a couple seconds after I said police officer and the gate was swinging inward. I put my jeep in gear and proceeded down the blacktop.

Azaleas lined both sides of the drive and circled the tall pines that hid the house from those passing on the main road. An older woman waited on the porch fidgeting with the buttons that lined the front of her uniform. She hurried down the steps as I parked by a bed of dying tulips. She rattled off a string of Spanish mixed with English. All I managed to catch Richards, dead and blood. I calmed her as much as I could and learned her name was Maria, that she had called in the report and that Judge Richards wouldn't be holding court again. I grabbed my cell and kit then followed Maria past the dolphin fountain and toward the steps. At the door, she wiped her feet on the sisal mat and waited until I did the same. We made our way inside and down the hall.

"I have day off. Senora Richards, she insist I be here before dark, so alarm be on." Maria stopped before a closed door and turned to me. "When I return, I look for Senora and find this." She opened the door and stepped aside.

I took a deep breath and looked into the room. Judge Richards knelt before a judge's bench, her head resting in a pool of blood. At the bench, a large teddy bear held a gavel in its paw. I looked back at Maria. "She has a courtroom in her house?"

"Si'. Before Senora Richards become judge, she practices her talk to jury. She say it help to see holes." Maria shrugged. "But it never like this, with the dolls."

This was going to be a press nightmare so I dialed Marshal Edwards. His number was busy so I ended the call. He needed to be here, but for now, I could get the pictures taken. After pulling on a pair of rubber gloves, I grabbed my camera and stepped into the room. Might as well start with the body. I slowly walked around the judge's body and gave it a once over. Someone had made sure there would be no appeal. The back of Judge Richards' head spattered the floor and the two tables behind her. My stomach protested as I gathered up blood samples and brain matter making me glad I'd skipped lunch.

My cell rang just as I finished up with the Judge. Before I could say anything, I heard an angry "Where are you?" I tried to apologize for not calling to let him know I had to work late after all but he wasn't impressed and hung up on me about halfway through. We had a rocky relationship and this didn't help. I almost called him back but decided to let him cool down and gave the marshal another call instead. This time it rang but went to his voicemail so I left a message for him to call ASAP, that we had a serious situation here. I closed my eyes, counted to ten and got back to work. After studying the blood spatter pattern, I strolled to the back wall and looked for the slug. It only took a minute to find it buried in the wood paneling. I dug the slug out then did the bag and tag thing.

To my right, a jury box took up most of the wall. In each chair sat a doll. I snapped pictures of each one. Chinese, Native American, Japanese, Mexican, she had a whole collection of them, all in native costume. The doll in the number one chair wore a hooded parka and fuzzy boots. Eskimo, I figured. It also held part of a sheet of paper in its hand. I took several pictures then removed the note and read it. We the jury find the defendant, Margaret Richards guilty on all charges. Not quite a jury of her peers. I shuddered, bagged the note, labeled, and set it aside.

I sighed and punched in the marshal's number. Again, it ended up going to voicemail. I left a message that wouldn't get me fired then called dispatch. Jerry answered. Nice guy for the most part though his eyes tended to wander when he thought I wasn't looking. I updated him on the situation, requested a coroner, asked that he contact Marshal Edwards and send him this way.

That left the bench with the bear, a soldier doll standing nearby, and the witness stand. No witness occupied the stand so I snapped a picture, dusted for prints and moved to the bench.

A large brown teddy bear that had seen better days sat in the chair. A rubber band fastened a gavel to its right paw. Its other paw held a red plush heart with "I love you" embroidered across it. I wondered if the heart was symbolic but hadn't a clue. I dusted for prints and came up empty. Standing to the left of the judge's bench stood a tall soldier doll. I guessed he represented a bailiff. This doll also held a note.

My cell rang. About time Edwards answered my call. I flipped the phone open and answered. Jerry sounded worried as he told me he couldn't get in contact with the marshal. He even quoted rule number three at me. Never be unreachable. I took a deep breath. "He's probably at a party and can't hear his cell. Just keep calling and I'll finish up here."

Jerry didn't sound convinced but agreed to keep trying. I told him I'd let him know soon as I finished with the crime scene or if I heard anything from Marshal Edwards.

A knock on the door startled me. Doc Sam stood at the door, gurney behind him and a funny look on his face. He'd retired from his medical practice years ago but said he still needed something to occupy his time other than fishing and hunting. I sighed and told him to come on in. By this time tomorrow, everyone in town would know about Judge Richards' in-house courtroom. Not that it was really Doc's fault but he'd tell his wife and she'd tell everyone else.

Doc and I wrapped the body in a sheet of plastic and loaded it on the gurney. He fastened the straps across the body, said thanks for the help and wheeled Judge Richards away. Maria stood in the doorway muttering to herself in Spanish. She made the sign of the cross as she watched Doc make his way down the hall, then turned to me.

"Must I stay?" She gazed around the room then shuddered.

"Of course not. In fact, it'd be better if you left." I watched her sigh in relief.

"I be gone in five minutes. I leave key on table by front door so you lock up." Maria hurried down out of sight, her shoes echoing down the hall.

Couple minutes later, she hurried past the door, paused long enough to say goodbye and then continued on. The front door closed with a click and I was left alone.

Giving the soldier another look, I circled him taking pictures then carefully removed the paper from its hand. I placed it face up on the floor and took several pictures. Today's date had been handwritten in the right corner of a docket sheet. On the first line, as case number one someone had filled in Judge Margaret Richards. A red line marked through her name. I read the next name and sucked in a deep breath. Marshal Bryan Edwards.

Mad as a Hatter

I love words...it's a writer thing. I like discovering their roots, where they came from and so forth.  I also love colorful sayings such as "mad as a hatter." But have you ever wondered why hatters were mad?

Seems like at one time, mercury was used in the making of hats.  Naturally, hatters were in contact with the toxic metal a lot so were basically poisoned.  Apparently the effects of mercury poisoning is trembling, shakes, wild, aggressive mood swings and unsocial behavior which gave the appearance of madness. 

Of course, the most well-known mad hatter is from Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll.  I remember reading the book as a youth and watching several movie versions.  While I haven't seen the latest version, I love the Disney's animated version they released in 1951. Gee...now I really do feel old.  Sigh...

I think I need to read the book again. :-)

Don't forget to play my version of March Madness.  Details here!

In Like a Lion, Out Like a Lamb

I like the month of March.  It's one of those unpredictable months for us in east Texas.  Not winter, not quite spring.  Yet we get a little of both and sometimes some summer.  For example, yesterday the temp made it up to 80. Driving around town, I had the windows down and the breeze blowing in my hair. Later I had a tangled mess to deal with but that's okay. Some days a lion, some a lamb.

Seems with all the storms happening the last couple days, especially in Missouri and Kansas that March is coming in like a lion. And while the going out like a lamb part is unknown at this time, we can hope that spring and its milder nature isn't far from us.

Here's some interesting "March" stuff.

March was originally the first month of the year and but when we went to the "Gregorian" calendar in 1752, January became first. March was named after the Roman god of war, Mars.

There are several weather related sayings for March.  

* In like a lion, out like a lamb. 

* As it rains in March, so it rains in June.   Maybe we should keep some notes just to see how this one works out.

* March winds and April showers? Bring forth May flowers

The Bloodstone and Aquamarine are the birthstones for March. The flower of the month is the Violet.

On March 1st Ohio (1803) and Nebraska (1867) became states.

Texas declared its independence from Mexico on March 2, 1836.

Florida, Maine and Vermont also became states in March.

Sam Houston, Alexander Graham Bell and Robert Frost were born in March, just to name a few.

 

So, what's your favorite thing about March?  Does March hold any special significance for you?

Don't forget to join my March Madness.