Ed runs an errand for Mr. Rollo.

What happened at Devil’s Cape no longer surprised anyone. At least once a year, a body washed ashore.

Dr. Vandermeer laughed. First to himself because he was a true capitalist. Then out loud because he simply wanted to.

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

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.

If I can just keep walking, I can burn off some of this nervous energy. I need to walk until I’m exhausted, until I can convince myself that this rapid, stuttering heartbeat of mine is the result of exercise.

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

Detective Inspector Dave Box entered the room: an elderly man sat motionless in a wheelchair in a blue dressing gown open at his pale chest, revealing sparse hairs and a plastic tube entering the bottom of his throat.

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.

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.