Monthly mini-mystery with a twist
Dewey Rafer had never met anyone's expectations of him. He was such a screw-up, that no matter how he worked the angles, something always went wrong.
There was one thing Sally loved shopping for above all else: women who were careless with their credit cards.
Eric Barton held Sylvia Weatherstone tightly in his arms, guiding her this way and that across the empty dance floor. She was thirty years his senior, but she moved with the practiced grace of a life long dancer.
Laura came through the door on a dead run. "Billy's dead," she gasped.