by MarktheAuthor | Dec 10, 2025 | Fiction, Novels, Private Investigator, Process, Serialized, Writing
The 600 Double-Cross The jangle of the 600 Café doorbell harmonized with the raucous clatter of dishes. A hum of neighborly chatter and the comforting aroma of brewing coffee chipped away at the chill of disgrace that lingered from an afternoon in the slammer. I’d...
by MarktheAuthor | Dec 6, 2025 | Fiction, Novels, Private Investigator, Process, Serialized, Writing
Your Father’s Son Feeble illumination from a lone bulb flickered above thirty feet of dark mahogany, giving the deeply polished wood of the Montana Bar a reverent glow. Rows of bottled spirits trembled with the electric energy of the back bar lights. An odor of...
by MarktheAuthor | Dec 3, 2025 | Fiction, Novels, Private Investigator, Serialized, Writing
Your Son’s Father Five-year-old Penelope Jane thrust a multi-colored drawing at my face. “Unicorns are real,” she said in the manner of absolutes reserved for young children. I’d driven home, needing to see her, to touch my child, make sure she was safe. Stretched...
by MarktheAuthor | Nov 29, 2025 | Fiction, Novels, Private Investigator, Serialized, Writing
Love Or Money “That deal with Johnny Martin,” I said, striding toward Mother’s car and stabbing a thumb over my shoulder. “It’s the one that saves our business. And you just drove over top of it with your damned Chrysler.” My heartbeat had to be double its resting...
by MarktheAuthor | Nov 26, 2025 | Fiction, Novels, Private Investigator, Process, Serialized, Writing
An Unfortunate Uncertainty “Are you going to take a blasted minute?” Mother’s voice blew past like a northern wind, rattling the gates in the stockyard next door. A few desperate cows bound for the slaughterhouse bellowed. Johnny rattled away in the battered F-250,...
by MarktheAuthor | Nov 21, 2025 | Fiction, Novels, Private Investigator, Process, Serialized, Writing
Legacy Double Trouble Johnny Horton Martin hopped out of the pickup with the energy of a teenager. I stepped out to greet him, the big chalky sky of late November embracing me with a chilly promise. Johnny narrowed his eyes and offered me a disarming grin. “You come...
