Bio: Shelley Houlihan
I’ve been published in Lily and The American Drivel Review and have a story forthcoming in Little Sisters, Vol. 1.
The Book Club
Rachel Zambri knew she’d have to tell her husband, Randy, that her book club had kind of turned into armed robbery and when she did, he said, “Kind of?â€
Bio: John McFetridge
My first novel, Dirt Sweet, was published by ECW Press in Toronto last year and will be published in the US in trade paperback by Harcourt in spring ‘08. At the same time, Harcourt will publish my second novel, Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere. I’ve had a few flash fictions posted at Muzzleflash (and one in Out of the Gutter #2), and a short story of mine will be appearing in an upcoming Demolition Magazine.
Nickel and Damned
Arizona sun leeched blue from the sky, scorched blacktop.
The heat got so bad Joe Pender abandoned his office for the front stoop of U-Save Storage. A wind picked up and spat warm dust at him, but it was movement, at least. Air circulated past his armpits. The sweat clinging to his Dickie shirt started to dry.
And then: two shapes approached along the frontage road.
Walking Amsterdam
He was waiting for his luggage at Schiphol Airport when he spotted her. She was wearing the somber, seal-gray coat he had given her last Christmas, and it was only the crimson in the scarf at her throat that caught his eye. They had decided it was silly for her to meet his plane. He had outlined the reasons against it; she nodded her acceptance. But here she was anyway looking lovely, standing as still and pale as a porcelain figurine amidst the stolid Dutch pea-soupers in their bulky winter dress. Almost involuntarily, his hand rose in a greeting. She placed one gloved hand up to the glass in response and smiled. The delicacy of her movement encapsulated all that he loved about her.
Moments later, he pulled his bags off the carousel and walked quickly through the ‘Nothing to Declare’ gate. She turned for his kiss and they bumped noses. He wondered whether other married couples miss each other’s lips as frequently as they did.
Plan C
Stuart eased the Accord onto the Van Nuys off ramp and glanced at his rearview mirror. Shit. “Check it out, Eddie. White Navigator getting off, been behind us for a while now.â€
Eddie took a look at the sideview mirror. “First of all, that’s an Escalade. Don’t hold a candle to the Navigator. Second, it was a QX4 behind us before. Turned off a couple, three miles back. The Escalade got on after that.â€
Stuart said, “Maybe they’re using two vehicles.â€
“You thinking they’re cops?â€
Bio: Neal Marks
Neal Marks is a law-abiding citizen who pays all his taxes, observes every traffic regulation, and never bets with bookies. Writing crime fiction is as close as he gets to lawlessness. He and his wife live in Encino, California. You can reach him at nealmarks2000@aol.com.
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.
Taking Van der Flieder’s Star
“In 1592, one hundred years after Columbus discovered the Americas, Johann Van der Flieder and sixty-one men landed on a small island off the coast of Maine. That was in the summer. Their ship left them with a supply of tools, food, weapons, and water. They spent the remainder of the summer building two longhouses to use as barracks, and a small command post for Van der Flieder and two officers along with a surgeon.
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The Last Deal
The call troubled Pete Thorsen. It wasn’t like Sam Lawrence to call him in the evening, much less when he was out to dinner with a client.
When Pete got back to Sears & Whitney, he found Sam hunched over a small conference table in one corner of his office, staring intently at a document. A jumble of paper covered the table with a couple of glasses, one tipped on its side, mixed in. Crumpled scraps of paper littered the floor nearby. That wasn’t like Sam either. Pete’s old friend and mentor was the most meticulous man he knew. Even in his prime, Sam’s office had always looked like the set for a magazine shoot rather than the workplace of one of the busiest and most successful lawyers in Chicago.