Savage Noir

Chapter 4 The man in the buckskin jacket turned away and gazed into a store window.          His pretty companion quickly checked her appearance in the same window.   There it is, she thought. The fucking scar. Shit! Her nearly perfect features were marred by a long scar on her right cheek. There was no covering it up unless she went to a plastic surgeon.          There was one up-side to her ugly scar, though. It might cause someone to ask about it.          Get’em talking, Jason always says.          Here was another chance to test her charm. To persuade. Hell, everything was a test with Jason.          She left Jason and headed up the sidewalk. She approached the young vagabond, closely observing her. Soon she picked up the scent of smoke. They had camped out somewhe...

Chapter 3 It was ten A:M on Haight Street , which meant the tweakers, potheads and junkies were stirring in their cribs. Or in their ragged sleeping bags up on the hill. A few beggars occupied their usual spots, hoping to catch late commuters or early shoppers.          Two scruffy girls lounged against the wall of a café/deli. Their soiled shirts and jeans and dusty boots made them look filthier than the guy across the street who was begging for change. Their stuffed backpacks announced: “We just blew into town.” Taking all of this in, a short but muscular man in a buckskin jacket ambled up the walk with his female companion. The man wore his black hair in a bun. His big dark eyes s seemed to penetrate everything he looked at, yet he had a friendly demeanor.          Walking a half step behind him was a slim brown skinned woman in a white shirt and jeans. With her long black hair and her sparkling...

Chapter 2 The Schultzes held hands, terrified, as they huddled together on their sofa. Up to now, the news media had not presented the Death Valley murder scenes in vivid detail. There was always more on the Web for the ghouls. It would not be unusual for a bystander to take pictures of the body and later post them on the Internet. The morbidly curious could see a photo of a gashed neck in sickening, clinical detail.          The Schultzes stayed away from all that. Stayed away from violent movies, as well. Now, here was a dead woman in front of their apartment house!   There was no escaping it.          Detectives Olsen and Spears, better known in the Homicide Department as Slim and Shorty, introduced themselves.   Without asking, Spears, the short one, dragged two chairs out of the kitchen and placed them in front of the sofa.   The two detectives had agreed in advance to keep the ...

YIKES!  My editor just finished raking over my novel--just kidding. I'm going to start over, posting the first three chapters. Writing is a process, of course. Your comments are welcome, so don't be shy. If you already read Chapters 1 through 3, you'll see they're better now. DON'T MISS my new Chapter 4! San Francisco December, 2002 Chapter 1 Albert Schultz bent down to get his paper and saw a nude corpse on the sidewalk. It was five a.m. Still dark, the body dimly lit by a street lamp some thirty feet away.          Schultz ran back into his apartment and called 911.          The dispatcher picked up his call.          “Where are you?” she asked.          He gave her his address on Cole Street. It was a good neighborhood in the Haight, away from all the craziness a few blocks away.    ...