Detective Conan Bourbon Novels & Stories

"It seems like an odd choice here." The silver fox and his companion frowned some more at the menu. "What are you having, there?" he asked me. "Because I'm not going to draw your ire by ordering a Bud Lite." I smiled. "I'm having a Buffalo Trace Old Fashioned." I pointed out the bourbon on the microscopically printed menu. "It's from the same distillery that makes Pappy Van Winkle. It's good!" He nodded. "That does sound good." His shorter companion shook his head. "I've been drinking too much already. Hopefully if I order a Stella the lady over there won't think less of me."

she gave me a matter-of-fact look, “and blonde.” We walked into the kitchen just as Angelica was setting a lowball tumbler on the counter and a bottle of Blanton’s Gold Edition bourbon. She pointed at me, “Don’t even think of lecturing me on how much this bourbon cost, you owe me, Gargoyle.” With that, she poured herself a glass and tipped it back. She hissed, her eyes watering, and looked at the Valkyrie. “Want a glass? Maybe we can bond over booze since you hate the fact that I didn’t get to pick something other than a Demon for a father.”

I lean back in the leather desk chair with a sigh. “No idea, but they wouldn’t bother with your drunk ass if it wasn’t important.” Saint huffs. “Just hear what they out. It won’t hurt anything.” I pull a bottle of bourbon out of the desk drawer and I pop the cork. I don’t bother with a glass anymore. Might as well cut the middleman. I tip the bottle to my lips and let the first sip burn. The second sip is warm and comforting. The third time I bring the bottle to my lips, I swallow deeply, letting my mind relax.

He nodded and pulled a bottle of dark amber bourbon from the shelf, poured a double measure and slid it to me. I picked up the glass. The smell of oak and alcohol hit me before the liquid even touched my lips. I took a swallow, and the burn moved from my tongue down to my chest, hot enough to make my eyes water. I emptied the glass and asked for another. Then another. And the fourth one. My vision swarmed. I downed the fifth glass and suddenly was back at the altar. Androa's kiss had been a lie. It hadn't been the kiss of a man in love; it was scripted to fool me.

Knowing what he feels like might mend the kind of disconnect I’m feeling. He roughly swipes his hand through his dark hair, only adding another layer to the mantle of exhaustion seeming to hang off him. He slumps on the end of the bed, bringing the glass to his lips, and takes a long sip of his drink. If he can drink it, hopefully, I can too. Swirling the amber liquid around inside the glass, the fragrant scent of vanilla and caramel fill my nostrils. I give it a tentative sip. Well, at least it’s not scotch. A few ice cubes tinkle together as I take another gulp. After the first couple of sips burn down my throat, the bourbon becomes smooth, filling my belly with warmth. My experience is li

Chance Nine Years Ago "Need another?" I look up from my empty glass and nod at the bartender. The liquid pours into the tumbler and I quickly down it, signaling him for another. I could have made a dangerous mistake tonight. That's all I can think of as the next shot of bourbon fills the glass. I recall the night of mistakes I had as I down this one. The gun in my hand Watching the minivan appear, lurking in the shadows directly across the street Watching as Detective Alberts family got out of their car, happy and care free without worry

They felt like silent, watchful sentinels. And there, by the window, stood Conrad Sterling. He was pouring two glasses of bourbon, the bottle a vintage I couldn’t even guess. The light caught the amber liquid as it swirled into the crystal, a miniature storm contained within glass. He turned as I entered, his expression smooth, unreadable. His suit was immaculate, a dark charcoal that swallowed the light. His hair was neatly combed, not a strand out of place. He was a study in controlled elegance, utterly detached from the pandemonium just a floor below. He looked like he'd stepped out of an old movie or a billionaire's catalog.

Some had red thread wrapping around the pin holding them up with a tag hanging from the string with some information or other, Kaynon did not really read any of it wanting to wait for her to return before explaining if she so wished. Closing the office door with a click, he ventured further into her home. Not usually the nosey type but feeling curiosity bubbling up inside, he pushed open the door to the room that held her scent the strongest. Oddly enough, hers was the only scent he could detect. It made him wonder if she had been sleeping alone in the room for a while for Thomas's scent to fade out completely out of he has always masked his scent so he could keep a low profile. Kaynon did n

He smiled again, this time a bit more mischievously, and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re incorrigible!” she said, shaking her head, and his laughter filled the room. “How about a drink?” he asked. “I’d like to hear about Rodyn and the dragons,” she said. “I’ll get to that,” he replied, “but first… what do you fancy?” Once again, Emory glanced at the glyphs on his neck. They were just like Rodyn’s except they glowed a faint blue light that pulsed with energy. “I’m not here for a drink.” At least not right now. “I’m here because we have a lot to talk about. So, let’s get to it.”

“You do still serve those here, right?” He seemed to think about it before he tossed a small towel over his shoulder. “What can I get you? Perspective? Patience? How about some common decency?” “Watch yourself. My sister isn’t here to protect you anymore.” Noah smirked. “I don’t need Sol to protect me from you. That’s for damn sure. What do you want?” “Bourbon. Neat.” He turned and dropped for a moment. A glass appeared on the bar and then a bottle. It had two wings on it and I didn’t know if I had ever had that kind. Pouring it into the glass, he set it in front of me.