Chapter 1 “I’m telling you, Laura, this isn’t such a great idea.” “And why not?” Laura Cunningham could see the look on Kevin’s face. His profile, lighted by the faint green glow of the dash lights, revealed a mixture of emotions. What she saw there was a combination of anger, uncertainty, and a little boy’s …
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In His Bones
by J. Richard Jacobs Cross-legged, an ancient shaman sat precisely in the center of the western edge of a rectangle of tightly woven reeds, reeds found only at the juncture of the two holy rivers where the coppice stands, chanted the ritual tune handed down to him through the ages and tossed the bones for …
Picture Postcards
by J. Richard Jacobs Phineas T. Farmington’s bank accounts and rather extensive collection of extremely rare, unusually high quality artifacts had been squandered and pilfered by certain predaceous elements of the remaining Farmington family as he approached the end of the line. By the time old Phineas stepped off the planet, there was not much …
Future Histories
by J. Richard Jacobs Gus Tucker, owner of the Anchor Light Bar, looked up from his magazine. It was one of those slow, boring days when the only customer was a fly getting a free drink from a damp bar rag. He was on the verge of closing for a few hours to wait for …
Presence
by J. Richard Jacobs The woman in the hall, Daphne Winkle, was, well, large. She was not tall and not big, but large. She swayed slowly from side to side, alternately placing her considerable mass on one foot, then the other as if she feared falling through the typical tract house concrete slab floor. “Oh, …
Collector
by J. Richard Jacobs “…and I know she’s seeing somebody else, Doctor. I know it. What can I do?” Eric Trapp, a big man with short-cropped blond hair, leaned back in his leather chair next to the couch and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. After a moment’s contemplation, he leaned forward and looked at his patient. …
Death by Draining
by J. Richard Jacobs “All right, Rankin, what the hell is all this nonsense about ‘Death by draining’ in your cryptic little note?” “Morning, Chief. What are you doing here so early?” “I’m trying to chase down the smart ass who tells me his cadaver, this ex Mr. Block, suffered an acute and fatal loss …
Tommy Two
by J. Richard Jacobs Edgar muscled the lawnmower out of the shed, made a mental note that he wasn’t getting any younger, then bent down to grab the starter rope. He stopped. This wasn’t his lawnmower. There were all sorts of gadgets and dangling wires on it like a drunken copper spider trying to spin …
Soup
by J. Richard Jacobs This whole mess began when my long-time friend, Malcolm Bluntt, knocked on our door one evening. About three years ago, I think it was. Maybe it was longer, I don’t recall. It was unusual for him because he didn’t normally come calling during the week and it was early on a …
Osculating Bufonidae
by J. Richard Jacobs The alarm ground out its obnoxious rhythm. Zzzzzt…zzzzzt…zzzzzt…. But it shouldn’t be doing that, he thought. This is Sunday, right? I thought I turned the thing off last night. Too drunk, I guess. Ooooo, my head is unzipping and falling apart. Samuel Sapperstien, eyes still closed, slapped the snooze button expertly …
Just the Other Side of Reality 