Mystery Series Novels & Stories

After meeting some old lady at a river who tells me to make three wishes that may or may not come true, I wonder what else life has in store for me. "So you say you're not new to New York city, right?" demands the driver for the second time. "No. I literally grew up here." "Means you were born here?" "Means I was." He nods, like this is the answer he's been expecting. "Nice." "Well, I'm from somewhere else." "Where is that?" "Illinois. In Chicago. Grew up in Little Italy. Where the mafia bosses terrorized those neighborhoods. That's where they get those crazy and scary nicknames from. Some called themselves The Prince. Scorpion, The Twister.."

Steven was really shocked as to how someone had played the fast one one him, he started to wonder if his little act with Sonia had actually caused her death, even the media made crazy comments about him and changed the story of what had happened, he alone knew he didn't kill Sonia, but he was also not sure of who did.

The TV in the corner was muted, set to a local news channel like it was part of his routine—know the narrative, control the narrative, never be surprised by the narrative. The banner at the bottom of the screen read: BREAKING: NEW DETAILS IN MERCER LAND HOMICIDE I picked up the remote and unmuted it. A female anchor with perfect hair stared into the camera like she’d been born to say the word “allegedly” in a way that still sounded like “guilty.”

That’s what saved you from ending up like those other poor guys. I just grinned and tapped my nose. Sitting alone at the kitchen table, I popped open a pack of ramen and flicked on the TV. "Today, our city was rocked by a spree of break-ins and murders, all targeting rich single men. The cops cracked the case wide open, rounding up a whole gang of suspects.” As I listened to the news anchor's report, I could not help but think there was some truth to the saying that after the storm is when the flowers bloomed.