There she is, pure honeyed gold, bang on cue. Third window from the left. First floor balcony. Light spills past her silhouette, a halo projected into the freezing night air, breath frosting ahead of her like the smoke I blow out through the crack of the...
The name’s Chase. Franklin Roosevelt Chase. I’m a private Dick in Pratchett or Fairyville as the locals call it. It’s not a profession for someone who’s averse to getting a little dirt on them. Suits me perfectly. It doesn’t pay well, but it puts enough c...
1 “I’m not hard-boiled, I’m just hard,” I said, adjusting my trousers. It was another one of those days in the naked city. “A hard man is good to find,” Carlotta said, adjusting her cleavage. In her case décolleté was a misnomer. Disrobed was more appropr...
