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Noir Stories

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On The Edge

"Tell me to stop, and I will," he breathed, praying she wouldn't. C’mon, just kiss me.

Jack Walker had to die. The two men in the faded blue sedan didn't know why. They don't care. They followed orders – and that meant they waited in front of his house. Ten minutes later, he came out into bright morning sunshine, hurrying down the front ste...

Angela's Bust

Angela likes playing games but, when she plays with murder, the stakes could not be higher.

Bishop’s Lounge was busy and loud and blue with smoke. I sat by myself back in a dark corner booth, contributing my share of smoke and watching Angela. She had come in with a group of work friends and they sat at one of the tables chattering and drinking...

Hustled

Don't hate the player; hate the game.

She pulled from her cigarette, blew a stream of white smoke over my head, and asked: “Really John, what are you implying?”“I’m not implying anything,” I said. “I’m telling you flat-out that you killed your husband.”She blinked. There was a slight clenchin...

Chump City Nights

Everybody's Dirty Sometimes

Since 1946, the same electric sign has hung out over the sidewalk in front of Dusty’s Pub. The sign features a cartoon French maid dusting the word “Dusty’s” with a feather duster.One warm summer evening in 1978, Dusty, the club’s namesake and creative ge...