Detective story Stories

The sea breeze, with its salt and coolness, tangled in Avery's hair as she sat on the edge of a cliff towering majestically over a turquoise-blue sea. The sun, in its golden descent, draped the horizon with a cloak of warm and serene lights, cruelly contrasting with the pain Avery felt within. Avery was weeping, but not with silent tears; it was a heart-wrenching cry, the kind that seems to tear apart the soul of whoever...

Chapter One. Enter Agatha. London, 1923. "Sex, as a word, had not been mentioned out loud in my young days, but there had been plenty of it. Maybe not talked about so much, but enjoyed far more than nowadays. Though usually labelled 'Sin,' I can't help feeling that that was preferable to what it seems nowadays. A taboo subject." Agatha Crowley lit a cigarette and put it into the end of her black holder. She bent her left...