Section 1

Chapter One: THEREMIGHTHAVEBEENTHINGSIMISSED Waking up in a swaddling of satin, concubines awaiting ovient. My faithful valet draping my skin in silk wraps, fruits and spice abound, as I am led to the baths. Water nymphs, their supple bodies splashing together,...

Section 2

She wakes from hours of perfection, the last vestiges of her betrothal reverberating in her conscious Drachira! The food of her eyes adjusts, ripens to the remote control of dawn. Blithe shadows play across the room accompanied by the dim buzzing of a neon sign...

Section 3

The growing wail of the siren pulled Roger away from the mystery woman, his thoughts invaded by the cacophonous swirling of sound waves. His head began pounding once again. “Why, oh why, do I drink so much,” he chided, and then abruptly sobered, “Oh...

Section 4

Violet Diamond lazed on the other side of the world. The fingers that were working her over were heavenly, almost erotic. She thought of tiers of power, as her head lolled from side to side. Clad only in a small towel draped lazily across her backside, too bad the...

Section 5

Moving from the window to the hallway, Roger swayed slightly in the blinding sun, as he ambled past the door and down the hall. He clipped his hip on the doorknob leading to the bathroom, damn!, the stockpile of cosmetics was gone, along with the bras and pantyhose...

Section 6

Digger Brown and Saul Winters had been partners for five years that seemed like ten. They had gone through the ups and downs of the department, the politics, the bullshit and a number of criminal investigations and survived subsequent investigations into their own...

Section 7

As Roger walked out of the foyer of the Gaylord Apartments, he immediately noticed two police officers huddled around the yellow tape across the alley. Looking past, he saw two more, appearing to stoop over an oil stain. Next to the yellow tape several officers were...

Section 8

Digger and Winters stooped on the sidewalk. There was not much left to go on: the coat, or the tattered remains, your typical Goodwill rack model, shirt soot all that was left, belt buckle and some leather left, torso a burnt out husk, legs singed but mostly unharmed,...

Section 9

Several blocks away Roger was feeling that screwed feeling also Who the hell is Juan de Pereda? not so much screwed as an itch in the back of his mind, as if his brain was prodding, but the answer tip of my tongue kept flitting into his subconscious and what about the...

Section 10

Brown and Winters waited for forensics to come and take samples, then headed up the street to the Donut King. They had just begun to eat their breakfast when the call came through. “What have you got?” Mosely was wasting no time, must have someone in his office...

Section 11

“Damn, I hate desk jockeys,” Roger poked the end call, on his iphone XXX, “especially, when they are poor relations, riding on someone else’s coattails.” But, if he was going to be keeping the apartment, he was going to have to work, no matter how distasteful. With a...

Section 12

It had come into being moments before, floated over fences along hedges, down streets and parkways; until here it lays dormant, as leaves whither and crumble around it. It swoops from the alley; a response to a call, darting from garbage can to garbage can. It begins...