Nine Kinds of Trouble is a collection of short mysteries by KD Easley.
Excerpt
After Hours
By KD Easley
A scream echoed off the walls of the quiet building. I jumped and glanced out my office door. The hallway was dark. The building was empty except for my boss, Larry, the shop foreman. It was his scream I’d heard. I walked slowly down the hall and peered into the darkened shop. The nightlights threw deep shadows around the hulking road tractors parked inside.
“Larry” I whispered. “You okay?”
There was no answer. I crept forward and kicked something soft. Stifling a yelp, I knelt beside the still form on the floor. It was Larry. His eyes stared unseeing at the ceiling; a bloody inch and a half combination wrench lay on the floor next to his head. Blood matted his hair and dribbled onto the floor.
A shuffling noise came from the far end of the shop then a crash followed by a curse. I scrambled to my feet and hid in the shadow of a Peterbuilt, eyes squeezed shut to make me invisible. The noises moved closer, boots scraping on concrete. I took a deep breath, opened my eyes and proceeded to make the dumbest move of my life.
“Anybody out there?” I called.
The shop went silent. I gave myself a mental head slap for entering the too stupid to live sweepstakes and slipped away from the truck and into the hallway. Footsteps sounded behind me getting louder. I scrambled down the hall and grabbed the door to the sales floor. It was locked. The steps turned into the hall and squeaked on the polished floor. I swallowed a whimper and huddled in the shadow of the Coke machine. My pursuer stopped and changed direction. I let out a sigh of relief, ran silently into the parts room and pulled the door closed behind me. I was now surrounded on three sides by a chest high service counter and closed in by the door. I sagged with relief until the chirp of steps against the tile grew louder stopped outside my hiding place. I scrabbled gracelessly over the counter and cowered beneath. The door opened. I held my breath, a few endless seconds later it closed softly. I strained to hear the sound of breathing over my pounding heart. I didn’t hear anything; I hoped that meant I was alone.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I leaped to my feet and ran into the parts warehouse. No nightlights relieved the gloom back there; just darkness filled with the darker shadows of shelves and hulking engine crates. I felt my way down the aisles and stopped. The footsteps sounded again, louder now, big thumping monstrous stomps echoing in the dark. I bit my lip to keep from sobbing and backed away from the noise.
“LuAnn! That you LuAnn? You should have gone home early tonight.”
I knew that voice, Ace Miller, our senior mechanic. Why had he killed Larry? Why was he chasing me?
The soft nightlights shone through the windows of the front parts room putting me in silhouette. I ducked around a corner and backed amongst the belts and radiator hoses. They clattered softly beside my head as Ace moved closer.
“Come on out, LuAnn. I won’t hurt you.”
My stomach clenched in terror. I dove out of my protected hiding place and raced down the aisle. The thud of heavy booted feet pounding on concrete sounded behind me as I ran. I stopped at a shelf of sheet aluminum used for repairing trailers. A small scrap was lying on top, three inches wide by maybe three feet long. I slid it off the shelf and backed against the wall as Ace ran toward me calling my name. When he got within range, I swung the aluminum scrap as hard as I could. It hit him in the neck. Ace crumbled to the floor and gurgled at my feet. Blood pooled darkly on the concrete. I dropped the metal and sank onto an oil box, my trembling hands pressed tight between my knees.
The warehouse lights flashed on as someone ran toward me. I looked up and my heart stopped. Larry was racing down the aisle.
“But…But…you’re dead!”
“Nah, me and Ace were just having a little fun with ya. We know how you’re scared of the dark and all.”
His eyes dropped from me to Ace lying on the floor.
“Jesus, Lu. I think he’s dead.”
Ace lay in an expanding lake of blood, his sightless eyes staring at the ceiling above. I covered my mouth with my hands and slipped to the floor.
“What do we do now?” Larry whispered.
Amateur sleuth and cobbler Fulton Moon (yes, his nickname is Full Moon) encounters beautiful and sinister Lucinda Mathews. Lucy, wife of prominent florist Arthur Mathews, wants to escape an abusive husband and Moon only wants to help. It isn’t that
Jerry Lowenstein, an octogenarian and a nice guy, has written a fantastic mystery/ suspense novel that takes place just after WW2 on and near Bikini Atoll. He actually witnessed an atomic bomb test. Can you imagine that?
Dallas attorney Stan Turner hates criminal law but has a propensity for attracting murder cases anyway. So, it's no big surprise when a simple attorney-ad-litem appointment in family court evolves into a complex murder trial.
