Collections of Madness

Brody O’Bannion slammed the phone on its cradle, “O’Reilly get in here. Twas my sister Felicity on the phone. I sent you out there last year when her daughter Sally, my niece, went missing…assumed kidnapped. All those dead-ends in your investigation. Now Felicity’s husband Jimmy Silvena has been shot and killed while hunting with my nephew Jackson. The boy’s shaken up but OK. I need you to send a team to Foster, Rhode Island to find out if these family incidences are related. I don’t need no damn rival clan trying to get at me thru family.”

The trio sat at the Omaha Upstream Brewery table, “I’m telling you Jacque, the clock is ticking and you need a best seller…now! Your last decent book was what, three years ago?!” Amanda wasn’t just riding his case because she was his editor…well, yeah she was. Her paycheck was suffering too. She’d vested in this southern boy the moment she heard one of his New Orleans weird-crimes stories; she knew he had a future. Jacque put his cold mug down next to his latest book and wiped his frothy chin, “You don’t have to tell me. The poor turn-outs for these book tours you’ve lined up for me speak volumes. I just need one good story to fall in my lap; I know I can spin a great tale out of it. That’s why I brought Horace along; a skilled photographer who can add reality to the story.” And that’s when the young tattooed gal approached, “Excuse me. Are you that famous author on the back of that book?”

Dallas felt pity watching the cabby lift the last suitcase, “Honey, really? A separate suitcase for all your shoes? What? Did you pack steel-toe-boots?! It’s only a 14 day cruise with ten days at sea. Where/when do you plan to wear each pair?” Reed lifted her makeup bag over her shoulder, “You’re the mystery writer. It’s another case for you to solve. I’m the true-crime writer, and it would be a crime if I didn’t have matching shoes for each of my outfits.” Dallas tipped the cabby extra as he dropped them at the pier in front of the ‘ Cobalt Sky ’. There waiting to greet them was Val (his secretary/editor) and her husband Alex. Alex approached to shake hands, “Thanks again for this ‘business’ trip. Val says you have a 2-week deadline for your next book. I've always wanted to visit Hawaii. Hopefully this cruise will give you inspiration to complete your story.”

Friday, 6 July, 2018. Liberty, Missouri. 30 years as an Army grunt, now retired, and I’m selling myself as a “Security Consultant” since I lack a P.I. license. Then the break when a relatively new pharmaceutical company (ZyMedBio) hired me. Took time to research the company before the interview…learned a few buzzwords. A chance to build my new resume, till I learned all they wanted me to do was play P.I. keeping an eye on a “dangerous disgruntled ex-employee” named Marina Kolga. $23K offer for a month or two work? Hell yeah; it’s a start. Maybe a probationary assignment that will get me permanent employment.

FROM THE BEGINNING :  https://rigglew4.blogspot.com/2018/05/part-1-ladybug-ladybug-where-are-you.html As the locust swarm grew closer to the parking lot, their mass became bathed in light. Arriving police cars illuminating the scene. The first arriving car sliding on a carpet of locust, unable to stop, slamming into parked cars. “Well that’s just great! Jorge, see if you can stall them. Keep them back while we try to talk sense into Lindsay.”

7pm at the Cleveland Police station, when captain Will Jackson steps out of his office, “Are you watching the news? The FBI is already on scene at a Walmart store where’s there’s been a 6:30pm kidnapping and homicide. The FBI calling for local police presence. I need an investigative team down there NOW. It’ll be another hour and a half before the mother gets out of the hospital.”

It's 28 February, 1928 in your friendly small-town America (Stowell, Massachusetts).  You are classmates gathering at Elois’ house to plan the coming 10 year high-school class-reunion events this approaching weekend. Classmates-age 27 Description Elois Bircher (NPC) school teacher Short/plump but smartly dressed. Church going, impressed with Rev Fitzgerald. Until his last shocking sermon, supporting slavery. Fred Schenck (Tony) barber Big and strong. Ambitious, sports hat and cigar. Mr. Bingham at bank called in your house loan. You will be evicted. Wesley Frost (Criv) bank clerk Dreamer, pale-face and acne. Known to lie in grass gazing up at stars. Unlike your sister Glenda to decline dinner invitation. Now no-one answers the phone. Annabelle Hearn (NPC) kitchen hand Good-looking and hard working. Women’s rights. Interest in Bert. Arrived for work

It was getting crowded in our new office, Crimson Detective Agency, here in Boston. Why we used Betty’s name…well if we fell flat-on-our-face, better her name than anyone else. A conglomerate of entrepreneurs: B. Crimson our writer, Morgan Mastiff our businessman/legal expert, Pennyworth our antique dealer, and myself Rusty Nile explorer. You see what I mean; not a detective among us. But hey, ya gotta start somewhere. “Hey, checkout our first piece of official mail. Who do we know that lives in Connecticut who would have recommended us?” The faintest of smirks creases Morgan’s face, “It’s called seeding. Newspaper ads in major nearby cities. Obviously money well spent.” A lawyer requesting our services to find a missing Arthur Cornthwaite…who has an estate! Money! “Hell yes, we’ll accept the offer. Just don’t sound too eager to the man.” B chimes in, “You mean don’t sound too desperate. Two months in business and we’re already behind on bills. We’d best get money