This story started here. We were in town for most of the day. We were never actually under arrest, and when we were threatened with arrest there was some confusion about what we might be arrested for. As my … Continue reading
This story started here. “I blew it,” my employer said as we sat on Professor Lebrun’s front porch and watched the sun come up. “I should have been able to stop Barbara and Rhonda getting shot.” “Do you know … Continue reading
This story started here. My employer and I described the “gathering of the suspects” (though not using that phrase, of course), and the aftermath. She did not emphasize that I had possibly saved her life — her crediting me … Continue reading
This story started here. Barbara Arkright was dead. She’d apparently died instantly, shot in the head by one of the two rifle bullets. The rest of us were at the hospital. Barbara’s mother, Maureen Arkright, had been sedated and … Continue reading
This story started here. We knocked on the front door, and of course it reminded me of the first time we’d been admitted to that house. But this time it was evening, and the windows were lit, and we … Continue reading
This story started here. My employer hung up the phone. “We’re gathering the suspects,” she said. She looked like she was going to start vibrating from excitement. “Hang on,” I said. “What–“ She made a moue. “Okay, Mr. Literal. … Continue reading