“Mr. Phanschmidt, I'm dying very slowly, a little too slowly for my tastes. Eventually Jackie will inherit my wealth and the headaches that go with it, including unfortunate business like you.”
This is from a rough draft with the working title of An Old Address. When it’s finished I plan to send it into Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine, which may be a bit optimistic of me, but for a very specific reason, this is the only place where I can submit it.
As far as reading, I’ve been immersing myself in westerns lately because of a noir-style western that I'm working on. Currently I’m reading The Big Westerner by Robert Easton, Seminole Showdown by Jon Sharpe and Border Guns by Eugene Cunningham. The following is from Border Guns:
In the few remaining miles that separated him from Rawles and whatever might lie in wait there for him, Ross passed four or five riders who eyed him aslant, nodded very gravely, stared thoughtfully at his long limbed black, and fox-trotted past him. Men of varying ages, from twenty, perhaps, to forty, were these, but whatever their years might number, they were alike in the careless roughness of their clothing, in a certain grim watchfulness and wolfish alertness of barren.
I would like to thank Clare of Women of Mystery for the invitation to join the Two Sentence Tuesday fun.
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