Before we made it halfway back to the police station, the jovial and infectious Officer Ollie Gerulis pulled me over for the second time in two days.  I watched in the rearview mirror as the emergency lights from the cruiser splashed cheerful colors all over the...

We drove to meet with Lorna and Vicky overflowing with conjecture about strange Deputy Spiesz and his dimwitted devotion to simplicity.  “I’ve known a couple cops like him,” Tony said, his words laced with a hint of admiration. “Good to have for backup. Not great...

Officer Gerulis was chomping on a bologna sandwich when we arrived at the station. I noticed for the first time the outdated posters on the walls, faded and peeling from years of exposure to the cigarette and cigar smoke of railroad magnates. Each one advertised the...

The diner’s bell resounded with less cheer on my second visit. Faye Jenkins, however, glowed behind the counter, red hair piled high like an undiscovered comedienne from the 50s. Vibrant energy lent a playful twinkle to her bright blue eyes. Her practiced knack for...

The vast expanse from the station door to Ollie’s island desk took a lifetime to cross before I halted in front of him and asked, “Just how unhinged is that Aidan Peale?” Ollie gaped. Settled back in his chair, thick fingers interlaced behind his head, he’d been...

I parked the Tacoma near the entrance to Aidan’s property and edged along the piney woods twenty feet from the main pathway. This time around, I planned to get the drop on him before he prepared a story. A carpet of pine needles muffled my approach. Goosebumps from...

A wooden sign carved with bold red letters greeted me at the entrance to Jenkins’ farm, promising lethal action against trespassers. I ignored its threat with the arrogant optimism of a nineteen-thirties gumshoe. The driveway twisted in serpentine fashion, with all...

The Eureka Police Station was all sunshine and Santa Claus out front. At nearly half past 9 in the morning, the outer walls glowed with the intensity of the Mall of America at Christmas. Daylight gave the paint an extra dazzle, and the windows reflected the promise of...

“Tacoma? Interesting choice,” Derek told me once we got rolling. His quilted overshirt smelled of rancid cigarette butts from an ancient ashtray. “Rides pretty nice.” He patted the seat back near my shoulder.  I wondered if bringing him along would be worth the price...