Story Excerpts

The Creep bought a ticket for the Friday night midnight movie five minutes before the trailers started. Long beige trench coat. Beige fedora. Dark pants and shoes. He wore the hat low and covered his eyes with black-rimmed sunglasses. How he could see through them at midnight was beyond me, and since he’d been coming for the last year, when I checked the theater on the half hour, he still wore them. The Creep is not his name. We don’t know who he is, but Louise started calling him that the first time he came in, and the tag stuck. I’m glad to see him though, after last week’s murder.

No concession stand for The Creep. He strode down the hallway to the theater with his hands in his pockets. READ MORE

Roses for Beth
by Bob Williamson

“You’re right. This picture was taken in nineteen sixty-two. I think it was March. April? That’s my father’s sixty-two Ford Galaxie. It was the only new car we ever bought.” I turned the faded black and white photo around so the two detectives could see it better. “We bought it at Galpin Ford in Encino. My mother didn’t like new cars; she always said that you were wasting your money when you drove a new car off the lot.”

“Would you like some coffee?” asked Detective Woodward, a tall muscular man with a wide jaw and blond hair. READ MORE