From cover image for “1929: A Zimbell House Anthology”
I’ve been checking periodically, and the Zimbell House Publishing anthology 1929, which features my short story “The Devil’s Dilemma,” is now available for pre-order at both Amazon and Barnes & Noble for delivery March 26, 2019 (that’s for digital books, the paperbacks will take a little longer).
I’m really excited about this story since it’s one of my more ambitious projects.
Sixteen-year-old Timothy Quinn grew up in New York’s Hell’s Kitchen, working as a “printer’s devil,” an apprentice in a newspaper print shop since age twelve. One day, the teen and would-be boxer starts hearing strange news announcements on the radio that seem to come from the future. Then he learns that in the next seven weeks, a ten-year-old girl will be kidnapped and murdered by a notorious serial killer. No one believes his wild tale, so he sets out to confront the killer himself, but will he succeed in saving the life of an innocent child only to sacrifice his own?
My story is one of only six appearing in “1929.” Be the first to buy, read, and review this unique anthology.
Pop singer Beyonce – Image Source: Getty / Larry Busacca
The radio was playing the oddest song. “What the hell?”
“Don’t curse, Timmy.” 37-year-old Colleen Quinn looked ten years older, particularly when she was scolding her 16-year-old son in the living room of their worn down tenement flat in the middle of New York’s “Hell’s Kitchen.”
Timothy Patrick Quinn thought he’d heard the last of those strange news stories coming out of the radio after it told him about a 14-year-old newsie named Alexander Luszock who was supposed to be murdered by another crazed killer, this one named Carl Panzram. It had happened to him before, almost a year ago. That’s when he started hearing news stories from the future. This last time, he didn’t try fighting Panzram himself, though he had to give his Mom and his foreman at work an excuse why he had to take the bus to D.C. and visit for a day or so. He had to be near the crime scene to make an anonymous call to the cops, and then stay nearby to make sure they stopped Panzram’s attack on Luszock in time. That worked out a lot better than when he did this once before.
Cover image of the novel “Death Unmasked” by Rick Sulik
Disclosure: Almost three months ago, author Rick Sulik asked me to review his 2015 novel Death Unmasked. We had an email discussion and I agreed with the understanding that I would provide an honest review, no holds barred. I subsequently received a kindle edition of the book and finished reading it yesterday.
You should probably know two things about Rick before we get started. He’s a retired police officer, having served on both the Houston and Pasadena (Texas) police forces. He believes in reincarnation. Both of these figure prominently in this novel.
Imagine that you’re a homicide detective in Houston and nearing retirement. You’re a loner, both on the force and in your personal life, and yet there is this longing in you for connection.
Then, little by little, you begin to recall experiences from a past life, your previous name, your wife, how you died, and how she was raped and murdered.
From the Unlife and Curse of Sean Becker
This is an open police investigation, so why am I involved? Because my boss, private detective Aidan Burke is paying me to be involved. More to the point, Conrad Grey, a wealthy commercial real estate tycoon, hired Burke to find his only granddaughter, thirteen-year-old Marianne. The kid went missing almost two weeks ago. LAPD thinks she’s a runaway. Grey thinks she’s been abducted. That’s why I’m walking the streets, contacting my informants, trying to get a lead.
Oh, by the way, my name is Sean Becker and I’m a vampire.
Officially, I can’t be licensed as a private detective because I’m dead. I work as Burke’s assistant by night, and sleep in his spare bedroom by day.
Being a vampire, I can cultivate information sources the police would never get close to. A few are other vampires like me, some with legit night jobs, others living on the edge of society, making it anyway they can.
Photo by Paula Bronstein/Getty Images
Harvey couldn’t believe how easily he’d lured his latest victim out of that seedy bar and into an even more seedy motel room across the street. She was a beauty, a bit of a rarity in the places where he normally sought his prey.
The news media called him a serial killer. Seven women between the ages of 19 and 37 all strangled during the act of sex over the past fifteen months. The police couldn’t catch him. They had his DNA but it wasn’t on record anywhere else that would identify him. He moved from city to city, chose different venues to pick up women, a bar here, a concert there. He kept shifting his pattern around so they couldn’t predict where he’d strike next.