Private dick Stories

There she is, pure honeyed gold, bang on cue. Third window from the left. First floor balcony. Light spills past her silhouette, a halo projected into the freezing night air, breath frosting ahead of her like the smoke I blow out through the crack of the Lincoln's window. She stares out over the city, all platinum blonde perfection. Searchin’ for something but I'm fucked if I know what. Hopes and dreams, maybe? An end to...

The name’s Chase. Franklin Roosevelt Chase. I’m a private Dick in Pratchett or Fairyville as the locals call it. It’s not a profession for someone who’s averse to getting a little dirt on them. Suits me perfectly. It doesn’t pay well, but it puts enough change in my pocket to keep my vices going; drinking to excess, losing at cards, and pissing off good looking dames. Today I was on a roll. Not even happy hour and already...

1 “I’m not hard-boiled, I’m just hard,” I said, adjusting my trousers. It was another one of those days in the naked city. “A hard man is good to find,” Carlotta said, adjusting her cleavage. In her case décolleté was a misnomer. Disrobed was more appropriate. “And I suspect that only a hard man can solve my problem.” My name is Lance. I’m a private dick. A gumshoe. A flatfoot. I’ve been trained to delve, dig, and dive to...