I swung my gun hand, making sure to hit Diogenes hard enough to knock him out and it connected with his forehead. It was only fair, considering what he’d done to Charles. Proctor caught him before he could fall onto me and dosed him with god-only-knew what to keep him unconscious until I decided otherwise. I helped Proctor maneuver him to the wall, where I’d installed shackles the day before.

Dear brother was heavier than I’d expected him to be and Proctor had to help me while I shackled his wrists above his head. I gave him enough slack to take most of the weight off his shoulders but not enough for him to reach out to touch me. He’d grown over the years, four inches taller than me, and so much wider through the shoulders and chest than he’d been when we were children

“Sir,” Proctor said at my side. “What do you need of me?”

“Just hang back over there,” I said,...   read more »

Sir,

If you are arriving home late this evening, please remember to wash out your own snack plate. Do not leave it for me in the morning as Cheez-Whiz is deucedly difficult to remove after having sat all night in front of a warm fireplace.

I am marketing in the morning. We are out of Ho Ho’s, Newman’s Own Industrial Strength Spaghetti Sauce, and bourbon. Is there anything you prefer that I not replace? Please don’t say the bourbon as you know how you are when we run out of necessities.

Shall I walk Miss Constance in the park today? Yesterday, she tried to push a red-haired Homeless Person under a bus. Thankfully, he bounced as he was rather wired. Made the children cry, however.

As I was cleaning out the backseat of the Wraith, I found a pair of turquoise lace panties balled up in the corner. Please let me know to which lady (?) they belong so that I may personally return them as they are of rather good quality. Unlike some of the things I find balled up in a corner of the Wraith. If you cannot remember/do not know the owner’s name,...   read more »

I remember waking cold, wet, shaking all over. And pain. Confusion. Something horrible lurked just beneath the surface of my mind, looming toward realization. Something so horrible that I wouldn’t be able to...

It hit me suddenly. Pendergast, intent on freeing me, trying to accomplish that and watch all the doors and corners at the same time. Me, seeing the approaching danger but able to make only unintelligible sounds through the gag. But it was enough to alert him, and I saw him hesitate for a split second, making the choice to cut my last binding before whirling to save himself. A fatal sacrifice. Not at all surprising, given what I had come to know about him.

I saw the gun being raised, saw Pendergast, rushing low in desperation, toward the point-blank powder burn that would surround the wound that would kill him. I do not remember thinking anything at that point, but I lurched from the chair, watching my right hand snatch a brick from the ramshackle fireplace and hail Mary it toward the assailant. My legs were numb and I started to fall. I heard the gun go off and a hoarse cry. A body thumped to the floor,...   read more »

There came another knock at the door.

Greg Kawakita glanced up irritably from rabbit serum he was purifying. The knocking sounded again, hesitant and rapid. Kawakita slipped his shoes back on and hurried over. He wasn’t expecting any of his regular buyers, but that didn’t mean this might not be a new client. At the door, he paused and checked loaded a clip into the small handgun he kept nearby. Just in case.

For a moment Kawakita didn’t recognize the man on the doorstep, shifting his weight from side to side and glancing around apprehensively at the surrounding darkness of the docks. He was no cop, though, nor some drug lord’s thug looking to get rid of competition.

Kawakita replaced the handgun in its hiding place and opened the door, smiling. “You made it! I’m so pleased.”

The visitor stepped inside hurriedly, then froze, looking surprised at his own impudence. It had been almost a month since he’d seen August Strindberg, but the man was as irritatingly shy as ever.

“Thank you for having me over. I was worried about you. You left so abruptly... I was afraid... you know. That it was personal. My fault.”

“Not at all,” Kawakita said smoothly, taking him...   read more »

I was lying in wait in my parlor, like the spider for the fly. It was a hot, sultry day, but the breeze off the river was gently cooling the house as day faded to evening. I had been waiting all day; no, all week for Special Agent Pendergast to wander into my trap. The wait was so exquisitely painful for me, I was beginning to hope he’d never come. But, alas, the hour came when I heard the discreet rumble of his Rolls. Not the flashy one he drove up North, but the nice black one he kept for his infrequent visits home.

Home. Not entirely home, as he came from the city and the house he kept now was out Metarie way. It was the family’s summer home, the one they would retreat to every summer to escape the heat and poor air in New Orleans proper. Granted, it’s really no cooler out on Grand Tanton Bayou than in the city, but at least there are the breezes from across the water, and fewer people to press on you as you try to get from one place to the other.

I had grown up here, and had known Aloysius since...   read more »

Diogenes sings:

I would not be just a killer
Inspiration for a thriller
A forerunner of woe
(Do do, do do do do do)
I would be Mr. Rogers
Maybe playing for the Dodgers
If I didn’t have a bro.

Not so much an evil genius
Just bursting with the meanness
A scoundrel head to toe
(Do do, do do do do do)
I’d be friends with the kiddies
Sing them cutesy little ditties
If I didn’t have a bro.

Picture me
All bloodlust free
A happily married man
A Laz-z-boy and a minivan
Maybe a kid, not a master plan.

I’d be just another guy
Without a dead blue eye
See colors all aglow
(Do do, do do do do do)
Why, I might be presidential
I would have so much potential
If I didn’t have a bro.

***

Aloysius sings:

I would not be quite so scary
I might even remarry
Or get myself a ho
(Do do, do do do do do)
I’d be something of a sprite
And I’d get laid every night
If I didn’t have a bro.

I would not be known for killing
Life would be so fulfilling
Especially with this dough
(Do do, do do do do do)
I’d be friends with all the ladies
Not some English twit from Hades
If I didn’t have a bro.

Picture me
All full of glee
Instead of always dour
A remote...   read more »

He hurt everywhere. He had been battling against the pain for some time, willing it away, forcing it from his conscious thought, but now he had nothing left to battle with. He recognized this as fact. His wounds hurt, all of them, his face, his hands. He tried very hard not to move at all, not his head, or his arms, not even to shift his weight. For a while the strategy worked, but not forever. The pain was everywhere. The dog bites alternately burned and pierced with a sharp, smarting twinge that made his breath catch. No doubt they were becoming infected although he realized this was not an urgent problem. Not in his current circumstances. His head ached. His muscles were...   read more »

Lucretia Pendergast sipped her tea calmly. Her eldest son stood before her, waiting for her to finish. Next to her, Cornelia set down an empty cup on a saucer.

The urge in young Aloysius’ eyes was persistent. She set her cup down prematurely, leaving the tea leaves drifting gently in her unfinished drink. “You wish to speak to me, Aloysius?”

“Yes, mother. May I leave the house and take a walk in the forest tonight?”

Cornelia Pendergast smiled slowly, “I have heard the sky will be clear tonight, Aloysius.”

“Yes, ma’am, I am looking forward seeing the stars, if my mother will allow me.”

“Have you spoken to your father about this?” Lucretia Pendergast seemed undecided.

“No, mother. I cannot find him.”

“I see. Then I suppose you may, but be back by dawn.”

“Thank you. Good night, mother. Good night, ma’am,” he bowed slightly to his great-aunt and left.

“He is such a good boy, Lucretia. You are a lucky woman to have a son like Aloysius,” Cornelia Pendergast refilled both cups of tea.

“Lucky for a boy like Aloysius? I suppose he keeps his manners right, and does well enough in school, but he is so different from sensitive Diogenes. My son Diogenes, he dines with me, and...   read more »