The link below will open to the pages of a novella I have been writing for some twenty years and, at the height of the flux and uncertainty of all things 2020, have decided to make it available for reading in its present form. It’s a mystery of sorts, not only in the context of why it has taken me this long (and will it ever be longer?), but in the context of the kind of story it is. The action revolves around the coincidence, or lack thereof, of a couple of suspicious deaths occurring on a Wednesday in a leap year during an Arizona desert winter.
Roseann Smith marries Frank King - Oct. 13, 1948 