An Excerpt from “Dead Guy Avenue,” My Hardboiled Detective Novel Where the Narrator Can’t Really Remember What Happened
Wait, no, maybe it was his wife who killed his business partner? I don’t know-- someone died, is the gist of it.
Wait, no, maybe it was his wife who killed his business partner? I don’t know-- someone died, is the gist of it.
I swear to you by all that is holy and true I will defend your 2015 MacBook and Moleskine notebook with every fiber of my being.
The real problem we urbanites face every? The problem of Dominic Toretto and his family of ne’er-do-wells.
Just kinda set the money bags on your knees. I’d tell you to move the gold-plated racquet holder, but it’s welded to the center console.
Florida resident Kevin Nick reported receipt of a package with a cryptic note reading, “Let me show you the shape of my heart.”
What’s your motive for second-guessing me every second of every day? Every week, we go through the same rigamarole.
Do opinion writers share the same responsibility to obey the law as the rest of the world?
Intellectual property is precious and hard to find, just like Tracy’s body.
I was craning to see if you laughed at the Minions meme I sent and saw my contact name was just my number with "Maybe: Neil" under it.
My life has been nothing but cutesy crime solving and I’m over it. I’d rather get spayed again than have to solve one more cozy mystery.
I don’t know why you are laughing and saying, “sure man, okay” when I relate to you that I had stunning paramours in every major city in Europe.
I didn’t help break into the Banco de España to see these delicious snacks I’ve generously prepared go to waste.