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6e5e8f7
|
Shouldering the duffel bag with the Marine Corps bulldog, Old Man knocked Jan's photo off the bed table. He turned to stone staring down at the photo. His face then splintered into hurt. Tears seeped into his eyes. He grappled for the nearest bedpost and slumped forward on extended arms. His shoulders jerked and head sagged a little while his heart broke. Old Man cried the mute cry of men of his generation.
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|
romance
thrillers-mystery
private-detective
whodunit
noir
suspense
|
Ed Lynskey |
|
d583ad3
|
Dreema and you disagree. She cottons to Richmond, but you can't be weaned off Pelham. So I offer you a fair middle ground: relocate to northern Virginia. She transfers to the state morgue on Braddock Road, and you get to stay near your old beat.
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|
romance
private-eye
thriller
detective-novel
crime-fiction
mystery
suspense
|
Ed Lynskey |
|
88860a8
|
Quote is taken from Chapter 1: Since Etta could log in her rare Baltimore oriole sighting, she decided she'd had enough birding for one day. It was just a fun hobby, not an obsession.
|
|
romance
humor
cozy
cozy-mysteries
mysteries-cozy
cozy-mystery
whodunit
women-sleuths
|
Ed Lynskey |
|
8a3a5d6
|
Get a load of this, Frank." Gerald Peyton's pause set off his pronouncement. "She is expecting to get a wedding ring." "That's understandable," I said, unsure how he could afford a ring on what our firm cleared. Diamond rings--more sold in December than in any other month of the year--went for a cool grand per karat. Weeks ago, I'd priced them--again--for my domestic situation. "What seems to be the problem?" "That's a big leap for me to ma..
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|
crime-noir
hardboiled
military
detective-novel
|
Ed Lynskey |
|
6798cb0
|
He peeled out the banknotes from inside a billfold held on a chain and paid her. Andy Jackson's eyes were X'd out. For an edgy instant she wondered if his money was counterfeit. She also noted his missing middle finger, and a skull tattoo decorated his sinewy wrist. She put down the card key. "You're in Seven, straight down the courtyard." He slid the card key off, but it fell to the floor. "Oops. I haven't gotten used to this high gravity...
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|
science-fiction
|
Ed Lynskey |
|
59338be
|
The Quetzal Motel was a father/daughter operation, and they hurt for money but with just enough to stay in groceries. But who could tell? After tonight, their fortunes might perk up. It was better to look on the bright side. She took a deep breath and plunged back into Philip Nostrum's realm of futuristic doings.
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|
science-fiction-romance
pulp-fiction
science-fiction
|
Ed Lynskey |
|
a870d24
|
Petey Samson gave the ladies an over-the-shoulder glance. He realized no doggie treat was forthcoming, even from Isabel who was usually the soft mark to hit up. He scratched his front claws to re-attack the sand.
|
|
romance
humor
cozy
cozy-mysteries
mysteries-cozy
cozy-mystery
whodunit
women-sleuths
|
Ed Lynskey |
|
49bae96
|
Within the same hour as the murder took place, Isabel Trumbo sat in her armchair dozing, the Alaskan Outdoor magazine on her lap. Her kid sister Alma fidgeted in the other armchair, from time to time picking up her newspaper folded over to the day's crossword puzzle.
|
|
romance
humor
cozy
cozy-mysteries
mysteries-cozy
cozy-mystery
whodunit
women-sleuths
|
Ed Lynskey |
|
a54a53a
|
Sheriff Fox was running his fingers through his thin hair. In a few short years, he'd look bald as a peeled apple. The Snoop sisters and their sidekick, the town's bag lady no less, had traipsed into his office without knocking first. His admin (he couldn't remember their names to save his life) had ushered them in, and they'd just dumped this hot potato into his lap.
|
|
whodunit
women-sleuths
mystery
|
Ed Lynskey |
|
9d724d7
|
From Chapter 1: The main rub was the lack of RnR and I burned out. Three years and three stripes later, I ejected from the MP Corps, vowing I'd never do police or criminal investigative work again. Instead, I returned home when I should've learned better.
|
|
private-detective
thriller
noir
suspense
|
Ed Lynskey |
|
c8de7bb
|
Quote taken from Chapter 1: "Alma idly wondered if he'd blow his nose, too. He did. Twice. He made it honk, the sound reminding Alma of Harpo Marx squeezing his bulb horn. Isabel darted a look at Alma, giving her the don't-you-dare-giggle squint. Alma dug her fingernails into her palm, the inappropriate laugh rising from her throat as she looked up at the ceiling. Blue refolded his handkerchief and returned it to inside his seersucker jacke..
|
|
whodunit
women-sleuths
mystery
|
Ed Lynskey |
|
3fc4a58
|
Megan stepping back let her glance switch from Alma to Isabel and return to Alma. No doubt about it, thought Megan. Created as much alike as any sisters ever had been, their resemblance started with their matching red-and-white polka dot blouses. Since she was a young girl, she had matched their eye colors to their different personalities.
|
|
romance
humor
cozies
cozy
cozy-mysteries
mysteries-cozy
cozy-mystery
whodunit
women-sleuths
|
Ed Lynskey |
|
871f033
|
I let my gaze travel out the picture window. Unlike at my old doublewide trailer perched on the fringe of a played out quarry, here I owned a real yard with real grass that screamed for mowing each Monday a.m. I sat at the kitchen table, cooling off from just having finished this week's job. Yes, here in 2005, I was a full-fledged suburbanite, but I'd been called worse.
|
|
romance
hardboiled
detective-novel
crime-fiction
noir
crime
|
Ed Lynskey |
|
d24f24b
|
His agility surprised Phoebe Ash. She saw the plaster cast on his right leg. Funny messages in ink--"Go break the left one, tiger!"--had been written on the off-white plaster."
|
|
science-fiction-romance
pulp-fiction
science-fiction
|
Ed Lynskey |
|
6a0d125
|
My feet crunched over dry hickory leaves. Wood rangers had stapled up Smokey Bear ("Only You Can Prevent Forest Fires!") signs along the state roads. One cigarette butt flicked out a passing car window and there'd be real hell to pay."
|
|
romance
men-s-adventure
private-investigator
hardboiled
detective-novels
noir-fiction
|
ed lynskey |
|
cf0b922
|
Payne sought clarification. "Vertical or horizontal?" "Horizontal, of course." "Sorry but I can't help you." "Will you pipe down for a minute? Naturally she was dead since I work at a cemetery. Her face struck a chord though. So, I rummaged around in the old Rory memory bank, and Emily is what rings a bell. Didn't we go to school with an Emily? Tenth or eleventh grade, if I recall it correctly."
|
|
romance
writing
thriller
crime-fiction
mystery
suspense
|
Ed Lynskey |
|
4c0200d
|
A diamond wedding ring, you say?" I studied his face. Was he putting me on? He looked earnest. "As any guy would expect, a diamond is what she's after," I said. "Did you hold out hope you'd get by for anything less?"
|
|
crime-noir
hardboiled
military
detective-novel
|
Ed Lynskey |
|
9938e8b
|
From Chapter 1: "You're not a local." I paused, unsure. "Or are you?" "Sort of. Randall Van Dotson is my dad. I'm Rennie." After tossing her head that coy, sweet way girls do, she gave me a candid appraisal."
|
|
hardboiled
mystery-suspense
noir-fiction
|
Ed Lynskey |
|
b1c1b86
|
Have they ever. Isabel never misses a trick. Anytime I step into their foyer, she's dropping hints all over the place. Don't get me wrong because I love both women dearly, and I enjoy playing a game or two of Scrabble, just not on every visit. Why can't we play Monopoly for a change of pace? I love squeezing the play money in my fist and snapping up the swanky properties like Park Place and Boardwalk.
|
|
cozy-mystery
mystery-novel
whodunit
women-sleuths
|
ed lynskey |