The phone rang as I was locking up for the night and I thought about leaving it ring. Then I thought about my bank account, went back around the desk, picked up, and said: “Conde.” An older man’s voice came on the line, dry as a desert bone. “Ah yes, Mr. Benjamin Conde of the Conde Detective Agency I presume?” “The same.” “Splendid, Mr. Conde. Splendid. Ah, yes, Mr. Conde, my name is Douglas P. Cahill III and the reason f...

The night was sticky and hot and I was sweating plenty even though it was well past sunset. Gravel crunched beneath my shoes, echoed loud off abandoned buildings. This neighborhood wasn’t safe after dark but I was hurting and needed to be here. A five-inch blade was folded up in my pocket just in case. Manny’s black Ford sat rusting in its usual spot, five spaces over from the back door of the Skol Bar. Three men talked s...

Todd awoke on his back in a puddle of beer and broken glass with his ears ringing and his vision blurred. He laid still, watched the ceiling fan spin lazily without seeing it, and thought about nothing. A few seconds passed and he sat up. He closed his eyes tight and waited for the room to stop sliding around, the colors to stop smearing. Finally, his eyes came open, focused, and looked without expression at overturned ta...