Stone cold killer

Previously: “Paisley, rosemary, and time.” Homicide Det. Sean Webster and June Chapel, social worker and advocate for Paisley Fleming, sat in a police interview room comparing notes in the investigation into the murder of Selene and Todd, Paisley’s parents. The couple, found dead in their hotel room, had been poisoned. Their daughter was a material […]

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The lingering taste of salt

Previously: Paisley, rosemary, and time Episode written by: Lance Burson The briny, fresh smell of a Florida Gulf Coast beach bringing on memories of being a little girl vacationing with her parents distracted Millicent as she walked into the hotel room. She gagged then murmured “I can taste the E. coli, I’ll do this quick […]

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Paisley, rosemary, and time

Previously: Paisley, rosemary, and time A while back, my writerly, author-type friend, Lance and I collaborated on a couple of serial stories. We each had created a character who was both female and fatal. Independent of one another we had brought forth Millicent and Pauley. Millicent was a hired killer with a penchant for poisons, particularly […]

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You don’t know, what you don’t know

Previously: Paisley, rosemary, and time Alone in a gloomy room, furnished with a graffiti-etched table and four stained office chairs, Paisley sat the table with a can of flat soda and a bag of stale potato chips. Across the room from her was a large one-way mirror. Watching the girl was a homicide detective and […]

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Sea breeze wishes

Up before her parents were out of bed, Paisley sat in a white plastic chair on the patio outside their hotel bedroom. She tried to be very quiet opening the sliding glass door, but it screeled when its rollers skidded across the accumulation of grit in the tracks. Paisley, not big enough to pick up […]

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Cherry lipstick

pitted cherries

She always wore cherry lipstick. A fixture at the Blue Orchid’s karaoke night, Val always sang the same three songs, screeching classical garbage off-key at a volume that made a mic redundant. She’d clutch the microphone in her hands, white knuckled, and plant her lips on the mesh windscreen, leaving behind red smears of greasy wax embedded […]

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