I have recently been reading a series of books written in a very fanciful, idealized manner - somewhat in the style of Dumas - and have come to the conclusion that some new oaths are needed. By way of example, several of the characters in the story use “Blood of the Horse!” as an expression of great surprise or agitation. Now this is a wonderful phrase, but can’t really be used effectively outside the scope of the novels. So I began to speculate about what makes for good oaths. To begin, then...

I came to, which didn’t have anything to recommend it. The side of my head pulsed in time with my heartbeat, and I put a paw against it to keep it from splitting open. I’d been propped in a chair out of the way of the crowd of uniforms meandering around on stage. I could see medical technicians, our local police, Hall security, and a bunch of suits that could only be feds. Russ and Carpenter were conspicuous by their absence. I didn’t see King Cole anywhere, or Olaf, but Odelia Coleridge was...

We worked through the small hours of the morning, trying to piece together the case. All we knew for sure was that Russ and Carpenter were involved, and most likely taking their orders from someone else. They were the epitome of crooked cops, using their contacts and official clearances to help criminals get away with their schemes – all in exchange for a piece of the profits – but Ozzie had never been able to prove anything. “If I could just catch them in the act,” he groused. “I could cut ...

It was the day before our performance, and I still didn’t have any leads. I’d called in to the office only to have Br’er tell me he couldn’t find any record of Sandra before her employment at Hubbard Hall. “So she could be the one we’re looking for,” I said. “C’uld be, Boss,” said Br’er, “but hit most likely dat she jus’ move in fum ‘nother place. I ain’t had time ter track her dat far.” I sighed and looked at my watch. I was running out of options. “Okay. You keep working on tracing Sandra,...

Cloverfield tried to build up some buzz with their teaser trailers: first by not revealing the name of the movie, then the one scene of the head of the Statue of Liberty crashing into the middle of the street. All well and good. Unfortunately, that one scene is the best scene in the movie. That one scene has it all: action, explosions, tension, drama, shock – everything you might expect from a big budget “creature feature.” Just don’t expect it in the rest of the movie. And to those who think...

I didn’t so much go to sleep as pass out. Not because of all the scotch, but because there’s only so much your brain can handle before it shuts down in self-defense. I woke up and got dressed, fixed some eggs on toast and got a cab to my office. I was moving automatically, not really thinking about what I was doing. I remember speaking to Dolly, but couldn’t tell you what we said to each other. I had a note from the inspector asking me to call him, so I pulled the phone closer to me and dial...

A note on my desk told me Dolly was at the market. I wasn’t happy about it but what could I do? I sat down in my battered chair and opened the envelope that had been slid under the door - my assistant didn’t have a key. I scanned the few lines, confirming my suspicions. I had the whole thing now. I pulled the phone over to me and lifted the receiver. It was dead. Guess the phone company had finally gotten serious about the past due bills. I dug around in my desk and managed to find two dimes...

The first thing I became aware of when I regained consciousness was a raging headache. I was lying in a hospital bed under a crisp white sheet and a too-thin beige blanket. The walls were a depressing shade of green that made me acutely aware of how cold it was in the room. The air had the same hushed quality that all hospitals have, filled with the gentle squeakings of crepe-soled shoes and quiet conversations about life-and-death decisions. Doors opened and closed in the distance as visito...

“ _Cheshire_!” I shot straight up into the air, looking around frantically. Dolly was standing beside the tub, looking exasperated but smug. I dug the cotton out of my ears. “Morning, Doll.” “I’ve been calling you for ten minutes. What’s with the cotton?” “Are you kidding? You were sawing wood like Paul Bunyan last night.” “Oh. I wondered where the plaster came from. How did it go?” “I solved the case.” “Really?” She beamed at me. “No. Not really. But I did find some information I need to fo...

It was shortly before ten o’clock when I stepped down the worn wooden stairs that lead to the front door of The Well. The building used to be a private residence until our downtown area expanded and overtook it, and now it houses a few upscale boutiques. You can tell they’re upscale because they’re not called “shops.” The basement was originally used as a wine cellar, and stays cool and slightly damp year ‘round. The general atmosphere, sparse lighting and rough stones that make up the walls...