Author’s Preface
I don’t come from a very literary family. Well, my father once wrote a suicide note, but he never followed up with a sequel, so he doesn’t count.
Archive for Stephen D. Rogers
Hate Crime
I don’t care for people who abuse children. People who abuse children are not among my favorite kinds of people.
Ubiquitous
One shot, center mass, and down he went.
Just in the last three years, I’d been forced to move five times as police department after police department switched to voiceless dispatching. Although my equipment was top of the line, it still couldn’t intercept communications sent out over secure IP networks.
At the End of the Rainbow
She always said paint was cheap. And so I’d arrive home to find the kitchen yellow, the bathroom light green, or the den a different off-white. These weren’t what she called the colors, but that’s what they were nevertheless.
His Castle
Once the police let me back into my house, I couldn’t believe the mess they’d left behind. They weren’t responsible for all of it (fingerprint powder—yes; bloodstains—no) but somehow I never expected to return to such an obvious crime scene. This was, after all, my home.
Where to begin?
A Dog Named Mule
Wishbone Lane was a dead-end road, the last property a restored farmhouse used to rehabilitate kennel dogs. I wasn’t here for the dogs. I was here to determine if Sheridan also distributed the heroin that killed my client’s daughter.
An Unwilling Witness
I jumped when the candle died but used the cover of darkness to steal a quick sip from my flask. If Marilyn hadn’t been the wife of my ex-partner, I would have laughed in her face when she tried to hire me for the job.
Muscle a blackmailer? Sure. Steal incriminating evidence? No problem. Act as go-between? Give me the address.
Attend a séance? You’ve got to be kidding.
Officer Down
As soon as he saw the flashing lights in his rearview mirror, Dent glanced down at the speedometer to confirm he was safely under the speed limit. Only then did he pull to the side of the road.
The police cruiser stopped behind him.
While Dent knew that some private investigators had trouble with the local law, he had managed to avoid that complication. He didn’t interfere with their business and they left him alone. Of course today might prove the exception which changed the rule.
Hit and Ran
The second best thing about driving to work this early in the morning was that the DJs still played music. It wasn’t until the commute really began that the radio personalities decided they were the real entertainment, musicians mere filler.
And last but not least, the third best thing about driving to work this early was arriving four hours ahead of everybody else. Half of my work day I didn’t have a single interruption. Then, while my coworkers were deciding to eat lunch at their desk, I was locking my desk drawers and heading home.
It was a pretty good setup if I did say so myself.
Time’s A’Wasting
When the same car passed the house for the third time in an hour, I knew it was over. If there was any question at all, it was whether Tony would send the police or come for me himself.
Either way, I was dead.
“Who you waiting for?”