by Ian Truman
By Warren Moore
Broken Glass Waltzes
By Andrew Nette
Gunshine State
By Gerald M. O’Connor
The Origins of Benjamin Hackett
By Rick Ollerman
Blood Work
By Chantelle Aimée Osman
Mystery! The Origins Game Fair 2018 Anthology
By Marcus Pelegrimas
Blind Eye
By Gary Phillips
The Perpetrators
Scoundrels: Tales of Greed, Murder and Financial Crimes (editor)
Treacherous: Grifters, Ruffians and Killers
3 the Hard Way
By Gary Phillips, Tony Chavira, Manoel Magalhães and Bryan Lee
Beat L.A. (Graphic Novel)
By Tom Pitts
Hustle
American Static
By Thomas Pluck
Bad Boy Boogie
Life During Wartime
By Michael Pool
Texas Two-Step
By Robert J. Randisi
Upon My Soul
Souls of the Dead
Envy the Dead
By Rob Riley
Thin Blue Line
By Sandra Ruttan
The Spying Moon (*)
By Charles Salzberg
Devil in the Hole
Swann’s Last Song
Swann Dives In
Swann’s Lake of Despair
Swann’s Way Out
Second Story Man
By Scott Loring Sanders
Shooting Creek and Other Stories
By Linda Sands
3 Women Walk Into a Bar (TP only)
Grand Theft Cargo
Precious Cargo
By Ryan Sayles
The Subtle Art of Brutality
Warpath
Let Me Put My Stories In You
Albatross
By John Shepphird
The Shill
Kill the Shill
Beware the Shill
By Nathan Singer
Blackchurch Furnace
By Anthony Neil Smith
Yellow Medicine
Hogdoggin’
The Baddest Ass
Holy Death
All the Young Warriors
Once a Warrior
Worm
Psychosomatic
The Drummer
Choke on Your Lies
XXX Shamus
By Liam Sweeny
Welcome Back, Jack
Presiding Over the Damned
By Art Taylor, editor
Murder Under the Oaks: Bouchercon Anthology 2015
By Ian Truman
Grand Trunk and Shearer
Down with the Underdogs
By James Ray Tuck, editor
Mama Tried 1
Mama Tried 2 (*)
By Nathan Walpow
The Logan Triad
One Last Hit
The Manipulated
By Lono Waiwaiole
Wiley’s Lament
Wiley’s Shuffle
Wiley’s Refrain
Dark Paradise
Leon’s Legacy
By George Williams
Inferno and Other Stories
Zoë
The Selected Letters of the Late Biagio Serafim Sciarra
By Eric Miles Williamson
East Bay Grease
By Jim Wilsky
Sort ’Em Out Later
By TG Wolff
Exacting Justice
By Frank Zafiro and Eric Beetner
The Backlist
The Short List
The Getaway List
By Frank Zafiro and Jim Wilsky
Blood on Blood
Queen of Diamonds
Closing the Circle (*)
Down & Out: The Magazine
Volume 1 Issue 1: Reed Farrel Coleman (featured author)
Volume 1 Issue 2: Bill Crider (featured author)
Volume 1 Issue 3: Barry Lancet (featured author)
Published by ABC Group Documentation, an imprint of Down & Out Books
By Alec Cizak
Down on the Street
Breaking Glass
By Brandon Daily
A Murder Country (*)
By Grant Jerkins
Abnormal Man
A Scholar of Pain
By Robert Leland Taylor
Through the Ant Farm
Published by All Due Respect, an imprint of Down & Out Books
By Greg Barth
Selena: Book One
Diesel Therapy: Selena Book Two
Suicide Lounge: Selena Book Three
Road Carnage: Selena Book Four
Everglade: Selena Book Five
By Eric Beetner
Nine Toes in the Grave
By Phil Beloin Jr.
Revenge is a Redhead
By Math Bird
Histories of the Dead and Other Stories
In Loco Parentis
Welcome to Holyhell (*)
By Paul D Brazill
The Last Laugh: Crime Stories
Last Year’s Man
By Sarah M. Chen
Cleaning Up Finn
By Alec Cizak
Crooked Roads: Crime Stories
Manifesto Destination
By Pablo D’Stair and Chris Rhatigan
You Don’t Exist
By C.S. DeWildt
Kill ’Em with Kindness
Love You to a Pulp
By Paul Greenberg
Dead Guy in the Bathtub: Stories
By Paul Heatley
FatBoy
By Jake Hinkson
The Deepening Shade
By Preston Lang
The Sin Tax
Sunk Costs
The Carrier
By Tom Leins
Repetition Kills You (*)
By Marietta Miles
Route 12
By Mike Miner
Prodigal Sons
By Mike Monson
A Killer’s Love
Criminal Love and Other Stories
Tussinland
What Happens in Reno
By Chris Orlet
A Taste of Shotgun
By Matt Phillips
Three Kinds of Fool
Accidental Outlaws
By Rob Pierce
The Things I Love Will Kill Me Yet: Stories
Uncle Dust
Vern in the Heat
With the Right Enemies
By Michael Pool
Debt Crusher
By Chris Rhatigan
Race to the Bottom
Squeeze
The Kind of Friends Who Murder Each Other
By Ryan Sayles
I’m Not Happy ’til You’re Not Happy: Crime Stories
By Ryan Sayles and Chris Rhatigan
Two Bullets Solve Everything
By Daniel Vlasaty
A New and Different Kind of Pain
Only Bones
By William E. Wallace
Dead Heat with the Reaper
Hangman’s Dozen
Published by Shotgun Honey, an imprint of Down & Out Books
By Hector Acosta
Hardway
By Rusty Barnes
Knuckledragger
Ridgerunner
By Aaron Philip Clark
The Science of Paul
A Healthy Fear of Man
By Angel Luis Colón
The Fury of Blacky Jaguar
Blacky Jaguar Against the Cool Clux Cult
By Marie S. Crosswell
Texas, Hold Your Queens
By DeLeon DeMicoli
Les Cannibales
By Chris DeWildt
Suburban Dick
By Christopher Irvin
Federales
By Nick Kolakowski
A Brutal Bunch of Heartbroken Saps
Slaughterhouse Blues
By Preston Lang
The Carrier
By R. Daniel Lester
Dead Clown Blues
By Lawrence Maddos
Fast Bang Booze
By Mike Miner
Hurt Hawks
By Tom Pitts
Knuckleball
By Ryan Sayles
Goldfinches
By Max Sheridan
Dillo
By Albert Tucher
The Place of Refuge
The Hollow Vessel
(*) Coming soon
Back to TOC
Here is a preview from the crime thriller Once a Killer by Martin Bodenham…
Chapter 1
The two men had nothing against the old woman as they bludgeoned her to death. It wasn’t personal; she was bait, nothing more.
Easing back on the gas, Michael Hoffman peered through the clunking wipers of his rental car, looking for the place they’d taken his mother’s mutilated body. He passed an empty Mexican restaurant, then a laundromat with a group of young men inside who looked like they were in the middle of a fight. As he checked the central locking system for the third time since leaving the freeway, a bright neon sign up ahead caught his attention—Cook County Funeral Home—Affordable Funerals by People Who Care Since 1954. Its red light, high up on a steel pole, and the pouring rain conspired to distort his view through the windshield. Rainwater pelted his face when he opened the side window and leaned out of the car, searching for a break in the wall. The entrance to the private parking area had to be close. The man he’d spoken to on the phone yesterday had warned him: if he wanted it back, he should avoid leaving his vehicle on the street.
There it was. At the bottom of the illuminated sign stood two brick pillars on either side of a narrow driveway. Michael pulled off the road and entered the vacant car park. As he killed the engine, the digital clock on the dashboard flashed 9:10 p.m. He was late—very late—and there were no lights on inside. Maybe the man had already left.
The iPhone in Michael’s jacket pocket rang. As he retrieved it, an image of his wife appeared on the screen. For a moment, he thought about taking the call, but decided against the idea; lying to Caroline again about where he was tonight would only take up valuable time.
When the door at the side of the building opened, a tall, muscular man in his early forties stepped out.
“Hello,” Michael said, jumping out of the car. He ran over to the man, soaking the bottom of his suit trousers in the puddles forming in the potholed tarmac. “I’m really sorry I’m late.”
The man threw him a shit-look. “I said no later than quarter to nine.” He turned the key to lock the door. “We’re done here tonight.”
“My flight was delayed coming into O’Hare. I got here as soon as I could.”
The man shrugged his shoulders. “Not my problem. You’ll have to come back tomorrow morning.”
“I have to do this tonight. Please.”
“I can’t help you. Now, if it’s okay, I’d like to get out of this rain.”
Michael reached into his jacket, and the man flinched.
“Yesterday, you wanted a hundred.” Michael took out a bunch of notes from his Mulberry wallet. “Would two hundred change your mind? I really have to see her tonight.”
The man relaxed then smiled. “Make it three, and I’ll give you ten minutes.”
Moments later, Michael stood waiting in the mortuary, the pungent odor of disinfectant failing to mask the smell of death.
“You said you weren’t family, right?” The man was wheeling out a shrouded body on a gurney.
“Right.” Michael looked away. “I’m here for a good friend who can’t make it.”
“It’s a good job your friend’s not here.” He nodded toward the body. “This one’s a bit of a mess.”
The knot tightened in Michael’s stomach. “I’d appreciate some privacy.”
“Sure. Ten minutes, remember.”
When the man left, Michael stood in the cold room, staring at the gurney. His fingers trembled when he reached for the white sheet. Bracing himself for a shock, he drew back the cloth, revealing long, gray hair that had been combed straight back. Holding his breath, slowly he revealed the woman’s face before lurching backward, almost losing his balance.
“Jesus.” Michael fought back the bile in his throat.
His mother’s head looked like a deflated football. It was obvious her nose had been broken and cheekbones shattered. Dark bruises covered what remained of her face, and on her neck, remnants of dried blood still showed on her pale skin where they’d failed to clean her properly. Maybe the staff here had figured nobody in their right mind would want to visit her in this condition. But Michael had to be here. Not only had he come a long way, but he’d also taken a great risk for this last chance to see for himself the bitch was actually dead.
Although he hadn’t seen her for almost twenty-five years, his mother looked older than he’d expected—much older. She’d have been sixty-four on her last birthday, but now, even allowing for her injuries, she had the weathered appearance of a woman well into her eighties. Years of alcohol abuse, and God knows what else, had eaten her away.
He leaned forward and stared at the sunken face of the monster who had made his early childhood a living hell. As Michael drew closer, a whiff of cleaning agent entered his nostrils, and he recoiled at the memory it stirred. He remembered the times his mother would squirt Clorox into his mouth if she caught him lying or, worse, stealing food. Apart from the regular beatings with her walking stick, food deprivation had been her favorite way to torture him. What kind of woman could do these things to her own child?
“Come on,” said the man, returning to the room. “You’ve had more than ten minutes.”
“Just a while longer.” Michael kept his eyes on his mother. “Please.”
“I can’t do it.”
“All I’m asking for is a few minutes.”
“You shouldn’t even be in here now. You’re not family, and you don’t really have an appointment. I’d lose my job if the owners found out about this.”
The man pulled the sheet back over the body, and Michael watched as the gurney was wheeled away.
By the time he stepped out of the building, the rain had stopped and a smell of fried onions from the Mexican restaurant down the street clung to the humid air. Hearing the sound of male voices, Michael glanced across the unlit car park. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out three young men hanging around his vehicle, checking it out.
“Nice wheels,” said one of them, leaning on the hood as Michael approached. “Don’t see many like this around here.”
Michael cursed the rental company for upgrading his vehicle. He’d known it would stand out where he was going, but there hadn’t been enough time to change it and still make it to the funeral home before the man left.
Michael raised his palms. “Hey, I don’t want any trouble, guys.”
The biggest of the three men swaggered over to him. Towering over Michael, he stood only six inches away and grinned.
“We just wanna take it for a ride.” He held out his hand for the keys.
Michael stared at the thug. “I told you I don’t want any trouble.”
“Just give him the keys, Whiteboy,” shouted the man leaning on the hood.
“I think I’m gonna have some fun with this one,” said the large man, turning his face toward his friend for a second.
Michael kneed him hard in the groin and, as the giant lunged forward, struck the man’s face with the sharp tip of his elbow, knocking him out cold. The other two men froze, stunned by the speed at which their accomplice had been brought down by this stranger in a suit.
“You want some of this?” said Michael, crouching with fists clen
ched and pointing with his chin to the unconscious man lying face down on the wet tarmac. “Do you?”
“You boys better get out of here,” shouted the funeral home worker, leaving the building behind Michael. “He’s with me.”
The two men ran off as the man came over to attend to the bleeding victim on the ground.
“Thanks for your help.” Michael reached into his pocket for the car keys. “I didn’t want any of this.”
“I didn’t do it for you.” The man pointed to the comatose lump at his feet. “I saw what you did to this one. You seem pretty handy with your fists.”
“Is he okay?”
“He’ll recover. Look, I don’t know who you are, but you’d better leave before those guys come back with their friends.”
Michael climbed into the car and sped away without looking back. A few miles down the road, he pulled over into a Denny’s car park, the adrenaline still coursing through his body. He closed his eyes and thought about what had just happened. It was stupid. If he’d hurt that man and the police had been called, how would he have explained to Caroline what he was doing here?
When he’d calmed down, he took out his cell phone and hit the speed dial for home.
“I tried calling you earlier,” said Caroline, answering the call.
“I know. Unfortunately, you rang just as they were calling us back into the meeting.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Hey, it’s no problem. How are the girls?”