The famous lexical semanticist Professor Edgar Nettleston had been found dead, a gunshot wound to the head.

A warmth filled my chest, an immense sense of pride that you were here. With me. I'd only met you properly for the first time this morning. Of course, I knew you before then.

Paulo’s muted tongue was as dry as the arctic air, and his heart just as cold. The blood from the knife dripped carelessly onto the pavement.

A game of Scrabble has serious consequences.

When Chuck Walaach enters the Elvis Look-Alike Competition, something has to give.

That wasn’t the third thing I did that made me look suspicious. It was the suitcase.

Deacon Park is where they bury the bodies. For a cold-blooded killer, a huge tract of wild land in the middle of the city can be an indispensable resource.

“It’s all going to be just fine,” she said. “We’re going home soon, I promise.”

A lone sedan entered the parking lot of the processing plant and went dark. A tenebrous figure emerged from the shadows, sheathed in tactical garb and gripping an M-4 carbine. He loaded a magazine and charged the weapon.

‘What shall we do with the body?’ The other one rubbed his chin. ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, eh?

It was the early evening in the small farming community of Sunlight County when the stranger came knocking.

Outwardly Seth didn’t react as he watched Mrs. Hatfield misplay the four spade contract, but inwardly he groaned. True, she made it, but most of the other pairs would make it with an overtrick.

An investigator is put on the case when a mad philologist steals a new weapon.

He steals with swift, simple hands in the yellow Roman sun. The crowds are bulging, swollen, and he bobs amongst them as silent as a jellyfish.

My cousin Dedrick and me are farmers. We don’t own no land and most likely never will, but we use land that’s been forgotten by its owners or maybe it was never owned other than by the Cherokee in them olden days.