Where am I in my publishing career? By now, I’ve tried just about everything that there is to try, so I will state my conclusion at this point: I’ll never feel comfortable again recommending that an author try a traditional publisher and all that entails! While a small press (also called an indie publisher, not to be confused with an indie writer aka self-published author) can give an author some TLC that’s rarely found with one of the Big Five publishing conglomerate’s cadre of publishers, there’s just not enough of that TLC to make traditional publishing attractive compared to self-publishing. Authors have a choice, of course, and I give both options their due in my little course “Writing Fiction” (a free PDF download found on my “Free Stuff & Contests” web page), but my opinions have evolved along with that little course (now in its ninth revision).

Let’s start with traditional publishing’s agents and acquisition editors. The first are found mostly pandering to the Big Five, i.e. mostly pariahs that work for the big publishers, and they screen manuscripts for them that they’ve determined will sell well in book form. Neither they nor acquisition editors can predict a book’s success, though; many authors have proven that—Tom Clancy, J. K. Rowling, E. L. James, and Mark Weir are only some examples of authors overlooked by these pariahs ab initio. A more critical assessment is needed, though: They don’t really favor literary art and look more for immediate profit, which is why readers see too much romance, erotica, and other fluff, political scandal, and pols and celebs’ bios about their escapades flooding the market, burying good storytelling and good non-fiction in a lot of noise.

I’ll admit my experience with these agents and acquisition editors hasn’t been a happy one, although I had no real complaints about the acquisition editors of my two small presses, Black Opal Books (the original acquisition editor!) and Penmore Press. (Emphasis on “small” here; ‘big” is bad.) Both of these companies were initially run by authors (Penmore still is) and had a strong catalog of interesting novels when I first approached them, so they seemed like a good home for my books, traditional publishers that would provide me a place to experiment a bit with traditional publishing.

However, bad things happen to good small presses that authors can’t predict early on. Wanting to have that full publishing experience, though, I first tried Penmore Press. I’d reviewed a book or two from them in my “official reviewing capacity” at Bookpleasures.com—let’s say they were in the mystery/thriller category, so I submitted the manuscript of my mystery/thriller Rembrandt’s Angel to them. From my point of view, that went well enough, and the book got some very nice reviews. I continued with Son of Thunder, also in the “Esther Brookstone Art Detective” series (Penmore actually came up with the name of the series, which has grown on me), but that second novel didn’t go so well. The first editor loved the book, but a second one insisted on making excessive changes to the content in the first few chapters (always critical in a long novel) to the point that it was written in that editor’s style, not Steve Moore’s (that’s always a danger with editors!). The third book, Death on the Danube, was the straw that broke the camel’s back: Penmore told me that they were willing to make the series a trilogy only if I paid the upfront costs! One of the few advantages of going traditional and partially justifying that the publisher take the lion’s share of the royalties (generally 80 to 85 percent!) is that those upfront costs are paid by the publishers (just a good cover can be costly). I said goodbye to Penmore for the third book in the series and later ones (the series is now seven novels strong).

Black Opal Books was even a worse experience. The Last Humans was the first book in a planned post-apocalyptic trilogy. I couldn’t go with Penmore because they didn’t do sci-fi (post-apocalyptic is considered sci-fi), so Black Opal seemed a good substitute. Again I’d reviewed some of their books and they had an extensive catalog. The acquisition editor loved the novel, but again, the second editor, not so much. She pounded me with her rigid adherence to the Chicago Manual of Style, a rigid anachronism no author can afford to buy, a vicious attack on my prose that all but destroyed my voice (actually Penny Castro’s, since the novel is written in first person). And again, despite that editor’s attack, the book was moderately successful, with many good reviews and even a prize from Readers Favorite (a video trailer offer which I used to promote Death on the Danube, the third book in the “Esther Brookstone” series, because I didn’t want to waste that prize promoting a book for Black Opal for reasons I now mention–see the link on my “Home” page).

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Some of you might watch my list of free PDF downloads (see the “Free Stuff & Contests” web page at this website) for additions and revisions. I don’t know how many of you take advantage of the material listed there, but there are no gimmicks, no obligations, just free gifts for my readers.

In fact, let me emphasize “free”: You pay nothing for each PDF except the few seconds it takes you to make a few clicks. However, if you want to treat these files as open-source software (that’s what they are essentially), you might feel compelled to pay me something. Don’t do it. I’d much rather you donate to your favorite charity. Skip the PACs, pols, and the NRA please, and do something good with your money. Give something to your local community food kitchen, Nature Conservancy, World Wildlife Fund, and so forth (although we often treat human beings worse than other fauna and flora on Earth, the last two are favorites of mine).

So what’s new in the list? Let me first mention two complete novels, a first because before I limited it to short fiction. Defanging the Red Dragon and Intolerance, books six and seven in the “Esther Brookstone Art Detective” series, await you. Yes, they are full novels! I hope you enjoy them.

There’s some new short fiction too. With Sleuthing, British-Style, Volume Three, I leave DI Patty and DS Logan, the protagonists from the first two volumes (the first is available wherever quality ebooks are sold while the second is also a free PDF download) to offer you a potpourri of eight novellas, a virtual tour, if you will, of policing throughout the UK (with a hint of the coming visit to Ireland in Intolerance). While some of these stories have been serialized in my blog (see the “Friday Fiction” archive), I collect them here together with a few new ones for your enjoyment.

Finally, and mostly for authors but also for readers curious about this crazy publishing business, I offer Revision 9 of my little course “Writing Fiction,” where I’ve continued to organize my thoughts on writing, preparation, and marketing fiction that I’ve developed since I started to think about “putting my fiction out there” as far back as 2001. Authors might find this material useful and often acerbic and brutally honest.

Of course, there are other free PDF downloads in that list you might have missed. Please peruse it and download at will.

And now a few technical comments: You can read PDFs on most any device. For example, they come to my Kindle as a document that I can read just like any .mobi file. (For some reason, my newest Kindle corrupts some of the files, taking off the “Sample” watermark and adding bold face in random places. Another slap in the face from Amazon? How I hate them! I’ve checked every download with my laptop, and they’re all okay.) I’m sure you can do the same even with your smart phone, but I don’t have one (and never will!), so I can’t test that. (Please let me know if you try that. Yes, people, especially commuters using public transportation, read on their smart phones as they travel to work. Don’t do it by putting your Tesla on autopilot, though!)

For these PDFs, you won’t get fancy covers, if any at all, and you won’t be underlining or have access to a dictionary (if your ereader has those features). I took notes for revising my little course “Writing Fiction” the old-fashioned way, on a legal pad, as I perused Revision 8. (I believe Revision 9 is much improved albeit more brutally honest.)

So…peruse the list and do your downloads!

***

Comments are always welcome! (Please follow the rules on my “Join the Conversation” web page.)

Death on the Danube. Take a tour down the Danube with Esther Brookstone and new hubby Bastiann van Coevorden. This novel, Book Three in the series, is a tour de force in many ways, not just for the Danube tour. A strange passenger on their riverboat cruise is murdered, and Interpol agent Bastiann takes charge of the murder investigation. A twenty-first version of Christie’s Death on the Nile, this mystery/thriller has a lot more relation to current events and modern assassins in today’s world than the genre-setting Dame Agatha could ever have imagined. The ebook version is available wherever quality ebooks are sold, and the print version wherever you might find it (Amazon, B&N, or your local bookstore by request).

Around the world and to the stars! In libris libertas!

I’ve been lucky enough in my life to see a bit of the world. Some settings from those travels find their way into my stories, of course. For example, our last major trip was a riverboat cruise down the Danube. My novel Death on the Danube, the third book in the “Esther Brookstone Art Detective” series (see the ad below), was based on that trip (sans murders!). The novella “Fascist Tango,” found in the third volume of Pasodobles in a Quantum Stringscape, a free PDF download, features places visited during much earlier travel around South America (the first volume is available on Amazon), and what Vladimir Kalinin flying into Bogotá in Soldiers of God was seen by me several times returning from the US to Colombia where I lived for many years.

My knowledge of the EU is second only to the US and South America. I’ve never lived in Europe, although I’ve spent a lot of time there as a conference participant, guest scientist, or tourist. The EU includes the Irish Republic, and we enjoyed a lengthy land tour there (basically the reverse of Esther Brookstone and Bastiann van Coevorden’s at the beginning of Intolerance). On that tour, I met my collaborator A. B. Carolan at Blarney Castle [wink, wink]; he lives in Donegal and has a cameo in my novel Intolerance, Book Seven in the “Esther Brookstone” series (also a free PDF download).

With Google, Google Earth, along with travel websites, none of that matters much anymore. Authors can stay in the comfort of their homes and travel around the world with their laptops to make their storytelling seem more real. While real travel might help with some settings, virtual travel can provide just as much local color for readers who want to travel along.

Whether from real travels or virtual ones on a laptop, authors have to be careful. For example, suppose the principal character checks into hotel X in city Y. The author must remain neutral about X or, even better, compliment the hotel and its service to protect them legally as well as not upset those readers who have visited X and thought it was a damn good hotel!

With Death on the Danube, I was very careful to have Esther and Bastiann praise their honeymoon cruise on the riverboat, even though Bastiann has to run a murder investigation aboard the ship (don’t expect that on your riverboat tour!). In fact, I could imagine the cruise ship company, Amawaterways, using the novel in some way for advertising the services they offer (they probably don’t, though). That cruise for us was truly entertaining, educational, and interesting, and I hope I conveyed that well in the novel.

Some travelers diss tours. Both our Danube and Irish tours provided me with a lot of information I can still use in future stories. To refresh my memory or to visit places virtually, I can sit in front of my laptop and tour those places again and the rest of the world too. Modern authors never had it so good. Of course, whether real or virtual, your settings have to seem real. That’s true of all fiction.

***

Comments are always welcome! (Please follow the rules listed on the “Join the Conversation” web page.)

Death on the Danube. Take a tour down the Danube with Esther Brookstone and new hubby Bastiann van Coevorden. This novel, Book Three in the series, is a tour de force in many ways, not just for the Danube tour. A strange passenger on their riverboat cruise is murdered, and Interpol agent Bastiann takes charge of the murder investigation. A twenty-first version of Christie’s Death on the Nile, this mystery/thriller has a lot more relation to current events and modern assassins in today’s world than the genre-setting Dame Agatha could ever have imagined. The ebook version is available wherever quality ebooks are sold, and the print version wherever you might find it (Amazon, B&N, or your local bookstore by request).

Around the world and to the stars! In libris libertas!

I laugh when I see PR and marketing gurus and other pundits’ blather and twaddle about the need for copyrights and registering them. I suppose one could argue that copyrights are the good face to the bad one of book piracy. Some authors register; I don’t The moment I slap a copyright statement on something I write, it’s supposed to be protected. Bollocks! There’s nothing like an unenforceable law to cause me mirth!

For example, on all my free PDF downloads, there’s a copyright statement. The most recent novel in the “Esther Brookstone Art Detective” series, Intolerance, has a 2022 copyright. But knowing human beings like I do, I go ahead and state that the person who downloads one of those free PDFs can make copies and circulate it to family and friends as long as they “respect the copyright.” What the hell does that mean?

First, it means that I can’t do much if you don’t, whatever it means. You could sell multiple copies of that free PDF and make some extra spending money. Or you could use some software package to strip my name off the document and replace it with your own (good luck trying to convince someone you write like me!). Or you could take excerpts and claim they’re your own stories (my novels have flashbacks or back stories that could lend themselves to that scam as short fiction).

The first thing is key, though. A copyright doesn’t give any author any protection for their intellectual property! Stealing a book is like stealing a car: It’s against the law, folks, but it doesn’t guarantee that the victim can recover their car!

Some US authors register their work with the Library of Congress as well. I suppose there’s something similar in other countries. For many self-published authors (I’m a mongrel with both self- and traditionally published works), the fee for that costs more than the royalties they’re likely to receive for a book (fact of life!). How do you send an ebook to the Library of Congress anyway? It’s an archaic institution focused on print books! Most of my books have no print version.

For traditionally published authors, the publisher will sometimes perform that registration, but that’s another upfront cost small presses are now often passing on to their authors in their desperation to survive as an endangered species in a world of huge, predatory publishing conglomerates. I suppose the latter might pursue legal action if one of their old formulaic mares or stallions in their stables is pirated, but they won’t spend the money for a lawyer to protect lesser known authors (who often write better books!), especially newbies’ books that aren’t selling well (it’s all about that greedy bottom line, not art…and lawyers are expensive!).

No, that whole copyright thing is a joke in the publishing industry, just as it is for most intellectual property. Authors, publishers, and governments won’t prosecute violations in general. So you can find just about any book you want online for free. Those who do so are only punished by their guilty conscience, if they have one!

***

Comments are always welcome! (Please follow the rules on my “Join the Conversation” web page.)

“Clones and Mutants.” This series starts with my very first novel, Full Medical, as it paints a dystopian picture of what our healthcare system can become as greedy people get rich off innocent people’s health problems and unscrupulous politicians try to preserve their power. The clones here are also abused innocents. In Evil Agenda, the villain behind the conspiracy of the first novel, tries to give himself even more power; and, in No Amber Waves of Grain, he almost redeems himself by helping to thwart an even more insidious villain. These are “evergreen books,” as current and troubling sci-fi thrillers as the day I wrote them, and all three books in this trilogy are available wherever quality ebooks are sold.

Around the world and to the stars! In libris libertas!

No, I’m not talking about my sci-fi bundle The Chaos Chronicles Trilogy Collection this time, although that bundle is definitely a bargain for all sci-fi readers.

Instead I’m describing Intolerance, Book Seven in the “Esther Brookstone Art Detective” series. Like Book Six, Defanging the Red Dragon, it’s another novel that’s a fee PDF download (see the list of free fiction on my “Free Stuff & Contests” web page at this website). Why? Here’s the summary:

Esther Brookstone, ex-MI6 spy and ex-Scotland Yard Inspector in the Art and Antiques Division, becomes involved in solving a cold case, a murder committed in Ireland years earlier; in thwarting a plot to kill immigrants and refugees; and in a murder case involving a famous Irish author. Her husband, Bastiann van Coevorden, an ex-Interpol agent and now a consultant for MI5, and various others help her in these cases. As one character proclaims, “God help me. She turns up everywhere.” Life after Brexit has become very dangerous in the British Isles!

So you have three cases then in one novel. Esther and hubby Bastiann are very busy. That in itself is unusual because most novels aren’t three-part stories. I’ll often include back story or a flashback to revisit Esther’s prior adventures, as you’ve seen by reading some of the previous novels, but that’s more to show she’s been obsessed with solving crimes perpetrated against innocents for a long time, even as an MI6 spy during the Cold War. I’ve experimented a bit here, though, giving Esther and Bastiann only secondary roles.

Esther’s not in danger in this one either. She’s involved in these cases because, at this stage in her life, she has a lot of friends who carry on her campaigning against injustice. Of course, she’s the common denominator for the cases. The first reflects her opinion that both bigotry and hatred are despicable, the second involves two newlyweds whose wedding led to the first, and the third involves one of those newlyweds more directly. So they are intertwined.

A question readers sometimes ask is why, with my love of Ireland, I don’t use that Emerald Isle as a setting for a mystery/thriller novel. This novel comes fairly close with two of the cases mentioned above. The first is about an Irish sculptor and the second about an Irish writer (two if you also count the murder victim). The amateur detective Declan O’Hara appeared in my novella “Poetic Justice” (now available as one of eight novellas found in Sleuthing, British-Style, Volume Three, also a free PDF download), and he and his new wife DI Margaret “Maggie” Bent received an encore in this novel. (These are independent stories, though.) Maggie has her hands full chasing the right-wing scrotes who are murdering migrants and refugees, while Declan tries to find his old author friend’s murderer.

Do you find all this too complex? Sorry, I don’t write fluff. All my stories are complex, even the short fiction. And this novel is free, so you don’t have any right to complain (chortle, chortle).

***

Comments are always welcome. (Please follow the rules on my “Join the Conversation” web page.)

“Clones and Mutants.” This series starts with my very first novel, Full Medical, as it paints a dystopian picture of what our healthcare system can become as greedy people get rich off innocent people’s health problems and unscrupulous politicians try to preserve their power. The clones here are also abused innocents. In Evil Agenda, the villain behind the conspiracy of the first novel, tries to give himself even more power; and, in No Amber Waves of Grain, he almost redeems himself by helping to thwart an even more insidious villain. These are “evergreen books,” as current and troubling sci-fi thrillers as the day I wrote them, and all three books in this trilogy are available wherever quality ebooks are sold.

Around the world and to the stars! In libris libertas!

A quick Google search told me how many have been made for the big silver screen: the ones starring Peter Ustinov (1978) and now Kenneth Branagh (2022) are the only ones. Murder on the Orient Express has fared better. Like all Hollywood remakes, one might ask: Why is another version needed?

At least one can say that Dame Agatha’s Egyptian tale has staying power. I read the original under the covers with a flashlight as a kid, my SOP for reading many books I shouldn’t have been reading at my age. I was a bit precocious, I suppose, but Christie’s novels are fairly tame in comparison  to many of today’s mystery and thrillers (including my own!).

Murder on the Orient Express is like Death on the Nile in the sense that private detective Hercule Poirot is trapped, on a train in the first book and on a steamship in the second, so he’s lucky enough to have only a handful of suspects. Of course, he applies his investigative brainpower in both.

I also read many Miss Marple originals. While Christie teamed each one of her sleuths up with a few inspectors, she never made Miss Marple and Hercule Poirot into a team to solve a murder case, something I always wondered about because it was an obvious thing to do. That was one inspiration for the entire “Esther Brookstone Art Detective” series; but Death on the Nile and Murder on the Orient Express, to a lesser extent, were direct inspirations for my Death on the Danube, which unites Miss Marple (Brookstone) with Mr. Poirot (van Coevorden), the steamboat setting changed to a riverboat (which didn’t exist in Christie’s day) as the couple try to enjoy their honeymoon.

Esther Brookstone is a sprier, younger, and feistier Miss Marple; and Bastiann van Coevorden, while a brainy investigator like Poirot, only looks like David Suchet (famous for the BBC’s Poirot series). Together they make an accomplished crime-fighting duo, something I believe Christie’s Marple and Poirot would have become as well if they had ever joined forces.

The “Esther Brookstone” series, now seven novels strong, has modern themes that Christie couldn’t have ever imagined in her day. That doesn’t detract from her oeuvre, but it makes the “Esther Brookstone” series about a twenty-first century Marple-Poirot crime-fighting team an original and hopefully entertaining number of novels for my readers.

So…go ahead and see the movie, but let me just say that no movie can ever capture the subtleties in Christie’s mysteries…or mine!

***

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More than a trilogy! Someone thought the first three books in the “Esther Brookstone Art Detective” series, Rembrandt’s Angel, Son of Thunder, and Death on the Danube, should finish the series as a trilogy. Surprise! They don’t. There are seven novels in the series now, but those first three have print versions, so readers can call them Esther’s “print trilogy.” The first five are also available in ebook versions. #6 and #7 are free downloads. That particular someone might have wanted to stop at a trilogy, but he couldn’t stop a good woman like Esther from seeking justice for those whom criminals, spies, and terrorists abuse and attack!

Around the world and to the stars! In libris libertas!

Midnight in Washington: How We Almost Lost Our Democracy and Still Could. Adam Schiff, author. (Random House, 2021). This important book (and a few others like it) does a great service. Here we learn the details about how some people—not just Mr. Schiff and his colleagues who ran the first impeachment trial prosecuting a psychotic sociopath who still poses a great danger to American democracy (he’ll forever be impeached—the only US president to have the stain of being impeached twice!)—but also others who have the courage to speak truth to power. We all should be so brave; otherwise, we’ll lose our precious republic to the dark forces of fascism. (I do my small part by blasting my representatives in Congress with emails, telling them to act, as well as by writing my political blog at http://pubprogressive.com. We should all do what we can. Democracy is worth saving!)

While this is mostly the story of the first impeachment trial and briefly the second, it’s a book that shows how Trump aka Il Duce has completely destroyed American conservatism, turning the GOP into his acolytes and morphing them into the fascist Good Ole Piranhas. This orange-skinned devil in four short years (which seemed like an eternity!) also decreased our stature in the world, much to the delight of autocrats like Putin and Xi and other two-bit fascist leaders who would tell you that representative democracies can’t get anything done and that a strong man, a president-for-life like those two servants of evil, are necessary. Perhaps many in the world are sad to see that America, that shining beacon for democracy and freedom, is all but extinguished as the US now looks more and more like 1930s Germany, but what’s sadder is that many Americans don’t see that and are hastening our slide down into the cesspool of fascism.

This book validates all my fears I’ve had since Trump walked down those stairs in Trump-the-Chump’s Tower to launch his presidential campaign by calling immigrants murders and rapists, a standard tactic used by the worst dictators, including Hitler: Create a minority all the disgruntled morons can blame for their problems! (Those problems often caused by fascists and the plutocrats who control them.) Many readers will find the details in this story as scary as I did. What I find even scarier, though, is that we’re still letting the fascist Good Ole Piranhas spew this vitriol and hatred.

Mr. Schiff takes us through all the events that too many of us paid no attention to; others purposely tried to forget; and still others, most of the Good Ole Piranhas, celebrated. It’s required reading for every respectable US citizen who might be wondering what can be done to save our democracy in the sense that it’s a list of things we shouldn’t allow to happen. The most obvious now: Never trust a Republican! Mr. Schiff’s subtitle is a reminder of the danger that’s still with us.

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[Note from Steve: A bit shorter than the other novellas, but still a British-style mystery. Enjoy.]

What’s in a Game?

Copyright, Steven M. Moore

Chapter Two

Ellie pulled photos of Peterson, the three victims, and ones of about a dozen bodyguards out of her large purse. Dotty pointed at the first.

“That’s Joel, of course.” She then pointed at another, one of the victims. “Saw that one once. He was with these two.” She’s pointed to two of the known bodyguards. “I don’t recognize anyone else. Sorry.”

“Hear any names?” Steve said.

“The first feller, the ugly bastard, was called Artie. Joel was more respectful towards him than the other two. Does that help?”

“Maybe,” Ellie said. “When did you see those three?”

Dotty thought a moment. “I guess Joel had a meeting with them. He called them business associates. That was obviously before I broke up with Joel, maybe two or three weeks ago? The whole experience annoyed me because Joel had asked me to meet him at his place at that time.”

“Did you know he entertained some of these blokes? Set up poker nights and played with them from time to time, to be precise.”

She grimaced. “No. I would have kicked his arse out earlier if I’d known that. My old man was a drunk and had a gambling addiction. Horses mostly. He’d lose a week’s wages and then come home and beat the crap out of my mum. I can’t stand that type of behavior.”

“Do you have any idea where Joel is now?” Steve said.

“Probably shagging some other gullible woman if he’s not at home! He’s a good-looking bloke as you can see in your photo, so women are attracted to him. Biggest error in my life, I dare say.”

“Did you know that Joel Peterson is an alias?” Ellie said.

Dotty blanched. “I really am a damn fool! What’s his real name?”

“I wish we knew. We’ll ask him when we catch him. Anywhere you can think he might be hiding?”

“He was always a bit circumspect, and now I know why. I don’t want to know why you want him, though. And he’d better not be hiding in my summer cottage either. We want there once. I inherited it from my father. Only good thing he did after driving my mum to her grave. Surprised the hell out of me. I think he purchased it for his mistresses. I’m thinking about selling it because it’s mostly a tax drain.”

“Could we have the address?”

Dotty wrote something on a notepad, ripped off the sheet, and handed it to Ellie. She studied it.

“It’s near Penrith. Quite a little journey.”

Ellie nodded. She’d put it in her report, thinking it might be worth visiting sometime as the case progressed…or stalled.

***

Back in the unmarked squad car, Ellie said to Steve, “What did you think about that?”

“Brutally honest, I dare say. She mightn’t like coppers, but she despises Joel Peterson. Probably more so now. Can’t say I blame her.”

“That’s my take as well. At least we learned we’ll be looking for Harry Stone and Ozzie Holly.”

“Think they were two of the three bodyguards present?”

“No. I don’t know which one Artie had there, but the other two were probably bodyguards of the other victims. But we can look for Harry and Ozzie to start. Let’s go back to the station and try to locate one of them, now that we have some names.”

“We might find them here in Newcastle,” Steve said. “I have a friend in CID here, DS Barry Waters. We can borrow his computer. Same databases, including HOLMES.”

“Lawrence mightn’t like us to do that,” Ellie said. She was new enough to want to avoid her DI’s disapproval.

“Um. He’d probably do the same and approve of our initiative.”

“Okay. Give me directions.” She knew there were three Newcastle police stations, and she didn’t know the way to any of them. Meeting with Steve’s friend would at least show her where one was for future reference.

***

Barry was a big black block as large as Steve; his parents came from Nigeria, and the two giants talked sports for five minutes.

“Excuse me, gentlemen, but we’re on a mission,” she reminded them.

“Um, yes, so we are,” Steve said, a bit embarrassed. “Barry and I usually have a chinwag like this over a few pints.”

Barry eyed Ellie. “Too much London in the lass, Steve.” He now smiled at her. “In the Yard, I used to be as serious as you are, Ellie. We’re a bit more laid back here in Northumbria. But okay, what’s the gig?”

She explained their mission.

“Um, yes, we can use my computer to see if at least one of those two yobs has a local address. Drugs are sold all over the northeast now, but the VIPs like to congregate here in Newcastle.”

“These bodyguards aren’t exactly VIPs,” Ellie said.

“They’re right up there in rank, Luv, because they have other tasks to perform. The chief says to kill someone, for example, and the bodyguard, really the big man’s aide, arranges it. They’re not the grunts in the drugs armies; they’re the colonels obeying the generals’ orders.”

“You’re just full of metaphors, aren’t you?”

“I do my best.”

After another fifteen minutes, they had an address for Harry Stone, a house on the way back to Morpeth. They stopped there.

***

“How do you want to play this?” Ellie said to Steve, still rankled by all the sports talk.

“Ring the doorbell and show our warrant cards?”

“And maybe get shot? You wouldn’t last long in London.”

“Okay, big city copper. How do you want to play it?”

“‘Twas I asking you. Barry sent us here, after wasting our time discussing football and rugby.”

He laughed, but she was now peering through a dirty window.

“I don’t think we have to worry about how to proceed,” she said. “There are three bodies on the floor.”

He looked in over her shoulder. “Three plus three makes six!”

“My, my, the sports fan just graduated from nursery school.” She went to another window nearer the door, broke a pane, and reached in to open the door. She turned and smiled at Steve. “In London, we call that probable cause. Now we can debate whom to call, Morpeth or Newcastle?”

“It’s Morpeth’s case, our case.” He hesitated at the open door. “Think they’re the three bodyguards?”

“You were the one who said three plus three. Call DI Lawrence. Whether this is good or bad for our case, he’ll want to know.”

***

“I’m not sure this is progress,” Lawrence said.

The three were standing outside the open door watching Doc and SOCOs doing their dance again.

“At least we know Joel Peterson, or whoever he is,” Ellie said, “is our prime suspect now. This looks like a hit to eliminate witnesses.”

“Maybe,” Steve said. “But why didn’t these three just shoot Peterson when he shot their bosses?”

“Good question, lad,” Lawrence said, “and I’ll offer up two possible answers: One, these three were in it and killed after the fact; or two, none of the four were, and someone was hiding somewhere and popped the three mob bosses, and Peterson and these three did a runner before the killer could shoot them. I’m guessing all four not left in that loft knew how to take care of themselves, including Peterson, unless he’s also dead somewhere else. Ah, here’s Max.”

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You hear and see that phrase a lot now because there a lot of jobs available in this pandemic economy. Employers are desperate for employees; and employees are taking advantage, moving up and looking for their dream job. I landed mine long before Covid, though. I always wanted to be a storyteller, and that’s what I started doing even before I left a completely different day-job. True, I couldn’t have fed a family with the royalties I’ve earned, but it is my dream job.

What few readers I have—I have no way of counting all of them because I know some are reading borrowed or pirated books, hopefully the former and not the latter—all my readers make my storytelling worthwhile because the real motivation for writers of fiction should be that their stories entertain, thrill, and educate those readers who want quality entertainment, huge thrills, and interesting and universal themes in their fiction reading. To me, that’s worth a lot more than a huge royalties check.

Of course, it would be better if more writers doing their dream job could have the benefits of a real job, i.e. make a decent living with good benefits while doing it. Nowadays, that’s nearly impossible. While that doesn’t bother me—I write a lot of fiction that I just give away now—it’s not a dream job many people can afford to pursue. And readers will suffer from that situation.

One can make money writing, of course. There’s journalism and investigative reporting, for example. Writers can create ad copy and verses for greeting cards. They can write and edit all sorts of manuals for today’s high tech devices. But none of that is storytelling.

In my new novel Intolerance, Declan O’Hara reprises his role of writer that he had in the novella “Poetic Justice.” He’s an Irish writer who makes most of his money with investigative journalism, creating his poetry and mystery novels on the side. Something like that is what most writers have to do if they want to make enough money to live on. That fate in itself is sad enough, but Declan lives with it and keeps his cool, as does his new wife, Detective Inspector Margaret Bent.

I suppose this situation is a turn-off for many would-be authors who see fiction writing as their dream job. They and many others might call me a masochist. It’s true that now our love for storytelling has to be so strong that we’ll stick with it no matter what occurs. I plan to do just that, and I hope others can manage to do the same. After all, it’s my dream job, even though it’s not really a well-paying one; and I’m an avid reader too, so I need other authors’ stories.

***

Comments are always welcome. (Please follow the rules on the “Join the Conversation” web page.)

The Golden Years of Virginia Morgan. This novel forms a bridge between the “Detectives Chen and Castilblanco” and “Esther Brookstone Art Detective” series and the “Clones and Mutants” series. DHS agent Ashley Scott is looking towards retirement but finds danger instead as she discovers a vast conspiracy. She also finds romance with an investigative journalist. The conspiracy, which involves a plan to assassinate a presidential candidate, sends them both running for their lives. Available wherever quality ebooks are sold.

Around the world and to the stars! In libris libertas!

[Note from Steve: A bit shorter than the other novellas, but still a British-style mystery. Enjoy.]

What’s in a Game?

Copyright, Steven M. Moore

Chapter One

DI Matthew Lawrence stood with DS Ellie Jones, looking into the loft. He called it that because he could imagine that some artist might have leased the space, although it did have some furniture: A large table was surrounded by seven chairs. Three bodies slumped in three of the chairs. The other four looked like they were pushed back in a hurry.

“Messy,” Lawrence said. Pathologist Littleton and SOCO Heath were trying to keep out of each other’s way as they circled the table. “Card game for seven. Think the other four killed the three victims and scarpered?”

“Kind of violent for a friendly card game,” Ellie said. “All the wagers are still in the center of the table. Four hands are face down as if those four had to run to the loo. We should talk to the building’s owner.”

“Steve’s talking to him. I want to first take a look around as soon as Doc and the SOCOs let us.”

Steve was DS Kirkland, Ellie’s counterpart on Lawrence’s team. She was the new member, but she already had one murder investigation under her belt with the Morpeth Police Department. She was hoping this one wouldn’t be so strange, although three bodies versus one didn’t bode well.

“I’ll sort the constables and organize a neighborhood canvass.”

Lawrence nodded, although he seemed preoccupied with other thoughts. She guessed a canvass would be a waste of time in the old neighborhood. She’d seen worse as a DC in London, but the residents in this one wouldn’t have much use for coppers either.

***

Lawrence stopped the pathologist on his way out. He knew that Andrew Littleton barely tolerated him and would take his time, no matter how much the DI would try to speed things up.

“Execution style, right?”

“You guess correctly, Inspector.” Doc flashed a wry smile. “And I’m guessing the card game was rudely interrupted by it considering the money and chips still on the table. But that’s all you have for now. And you’ll be waiting a bit longer for anything more from me. I usually don’t get three bodies at once.”

“Give me a drugs report when you get around to it, but what we have is all we need to get started. I think these yobs were gangsters. Hardly makes sense to call them victims.”

“Like ‘live by the sword, die by the sword’?”

“Something like that. I know who can identify them and confirm my theory.”

“Paul won’t like that you invade his patch.”

“That’s too bad. The stench is still in the air. They smoked weed here. That alone suggests the drugs business might be involved.”

“No ash trays, Matt.”

“Maybe from earlier then. Artificial courage for a killer.”

“Could be. Have a ball, Inspector.”

After Doc left and the SOCOs finished, Lawrence didn’t look around very much; there wasn’t much to see. He watched Doc’s aides carry out the body bags to the meat wagon and shook his head. My peaceful Morpeth isn’t immune to violence.

He went downstairs to talk to the landlord.

***

Mr. Patel, the building’s owner, didn’t look all that troubled. Lawrence thought he might be Hindu, not Sikh, because there was no headdress. Both were ubiquitous throughout the UK because of the historical connections with India, but to Lawrence they all chattered on in a special sing-song dialect that would suggest to most people they were nervous individuals. Patel wasn’t; he seemed resigned instead.

He approached the two; Steve had been having a chinwag with Patel, but Lawrence wanted to get his own read on the bloke.

“Mr. Patel doesn’t know too much about his renter, Guv,” Steve said.

“Kept himself to himself,” Patel said before Steve could continue, “as I was explaining to your sergeant. Didn’t see him except when rent was due. He’s lived here for only two months.”

“Did you collect any information about him, more than what’s on the lease? Employment and employers, references, previous leases, that sort of thing?”

The owner waved his hand to indicate the neighborhood. “This is my worst property because the neighborhood is a tip. Isn’t that obvious? I’ve had many renters skip out on me.”

“Do you report that?” Steve said.

Patel shrugged. “Nothing comes of it.” He smiled at Lawrence. “Maybe you plods will pay more attention to three murders?”

“We’ll do our best,” Lawrence said with a wink at Steve. “I don’t suppose you were around last night?”

“Like I told your sergeant, I was at my daughter’s birthday party.”

“Wish her my best. Could you provide us a copy of the lease? We need the full name. At the very least, we can charge your renter with hosting an illegal card game.”

“That’s illegal?” Patel said with a smile.

“We usually don’t crack down on that, but it’s using a private residence as a casino without a proper license.”

“Because there was cash on the table?”

“That’s the evidence, sir.”

Patel shook his head. “I don’t think Joel Peterson knew about that casino law. He certainly didn’t care when neighbors complained about the comings and goings for the games. Some might have called you plods.”

Lawrence only shrugged.

***

“Joel Peterson doesn’t have form,” Ellie said as she and Steve found chairs in front of Lawrence in his office. “In fact, he didn’t exist at all six months ago.”

“We think the name’s an alias,” Steve said.

“Most likely, considering. We need a photo. Anyone got one?” Lawrence looked from Steve to Ellie.

“He paid two months rent with a check,” Steve said, “so we have a bank account.” He crossed his fingers. “Bank’s CCTV?”

“Worth a try.”

“I’ll get on it.” Steve scraped the remaining biscuits off the plate and dropped them into his coat pocket. “Quick lunch, maybe.” He dashed out.

Lawrence shook his head. “Lad’s too intense. What else do you have for me?”

“Pathologist report: One kill shot for each victim. No drugs in their systems. We’ve also identified them: Troy Higgins, Richard Jackson aka Dicky, and Arthur Richardson aka Artie, three mobsters Williamson identified. They’re gang leaders known to him for their drugs businesses, according to him. He thinks there might be a gang war going on, a turf battle.”

“Paul’s probably wrong,” Lawrence said, glad he’d avoided the confrontation with the pugnacious narcotics officer.

“Guv?”

“Think about it, Ellie. Those clowns were playing poker together, all like friendly business associates. They’ve divided up the area and staked out their own patches long ago if Williamson knows about them. If there’s a turf war, it’s because there’s a new yob around who took the opportunity to eliminate all three so he can move in. That’s my theory. Let’s ask Paul if there are any new drugs being sold.”

***

Paul Williamson and Matthew Lawrence had some history. Lawrence thought Williamson played a bit loose with the rules too often—scrotes beat up, evidence lost, and so forth, but nothing so egregious to make Lawrence go to the super. And he just didn’t like the little weasel.

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