A game of Scrabble has serious consequences.

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

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

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.

Life was chock full of surprises for me, Bear Martin, and my partner R.T. Furr. We were both Special Agents with the North Carolina State Bureau of Investigation and worked together for nearly a decade.

“It’s all right for you; you’re not meeting a brother you didn’t know you had. And I’ll tell you this - I’ve got a bad feeling about him already.

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.

“I’m having a problem with something I did. I mean something I didn’t do but should’ve. And I can’t make it right. It was really bad."

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

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

“This is it,” he said. “This is the big one. After years of carrying crap, we’ve finally got us a job that’s going to change our bank accounts and bloat our pensions.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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

Hot on the trail of master criminal Flambeau, the head of the Paris police arrives in London, where he begins to notice small things out of place.

Threatening notes are sent to a brilliant inventor, apparently from a former rival for the affections of a young lady.

A decapitated body is found during a dinner party at the house of the Chief of the Paris Police, in the walled garden. Father Brown is a guest ...