by MarktheAuthor | Dec 18, 2025 | Fiction, Novels, Private Investigator, Process, Serialized, Writing
Eureka “Slow morning?” I asked the bespectacled, middle-aged Pippi Longstocking-type behind the counter. I’d settled on a stool at The Daily Diner in Eureka, Montana, after the grueling drive through the mountains. I was ready for a hot cup of joe and a fattening...
by MarktheAuthor | Dec 12, 2025 | Fiction, Novels, Private Investigator, Process, Serialized, Writing
Long Haul I was on the road again by one a.m., merging the Tacoma onto the empty highway four days before Thanksgiving. The asphalt stretched out like a deserted runway, devoid of slow-moving tourists or farm tractors. Abandoned rest stops flew by with picnic tables...
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 | 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...
