Serial
DETECTIVE MOXLEY, Part 17: “Rena Terry”
“Geez, Fran, can’t you change that?” asked Moxley, looking up from his corner booth at Row’s. He was nursing a cup of coffee he couldn’t afford, once more absorbed in the dozens of detailed case files Ray Neiring had amassed in the last weeks of his life. As the waitress continued to ignore him... »
DETECTIVE MOXLEY, Part 16: “Not Anymore”
The girl with the platinum hair glanced down at the device in her hand. Left here. Then a right. Then through the alley and two hundred meters farther on. She hurried up the street, ducked into the channel between two buildings, and emerged on the other side, fighting a sense of déjà vu. Hongkongtown... »
DETECTIVE MOXLEY, Part 15: “Good News and Bad News”
“Carol?” said Mox. “Are you okay? I’ve been standing here for like ten minutes.” “Yes, yes,” said Carol Latham. “I’m so sorry, Harold. It’s just… I’m sorry. Please come in. Please. Come in.” Moxley took off his hat and, seeing no place to hang it, simply held on to it. He felt out of... »
DETECTIVE MOXLEY, Part 14: “Accidents Happen”
“Take a long look, Mister Miller,” said Councilwoman Sara Lindsey. She pushed the pocket tab across the table. The image it displayed was not pleasant: A man in his late twenties lay suspended in an air cot, covered in burns that, in some cases, were deep enough to expose bone. Whether the man was... »
DETECTIVE MOXLEY, Part 13: “Crosses to Bear”
Ben Garrison stood on the third story of a building overlooking the Capitol tech ghetto. The building had been partially razed, leaving three levels of ruin that retained just enough structure to provide cover for his snipers. The snipers had already left their positions, however. The raid on the illegal surgical facility — which... »
DETECTIVE MOXLEY, Part 12: “I Know A Guy”
“Don’t let it go to your head, kid.” Moxley shook his head as the duty officer handed him a polymer bag full of his personal effects. He glanced back at the desk, then to Weber. “I guess they’re not going to give it back,” said Mox. Weber’s eyes bulged. “Kid, you don’t have the... »
DETECTIVE MOXLEY, Part 11: “Policy”
The car picked up speed as the thing with Sheb’s face drove them through the entrance to the slideways beneath the Gulf Bridge. The hole in the creature’s abdomen wept a viscous fluid that looked like petroleum jelly. Moxley kept his seat, his mind racing, trying to logic out what was happening to him... »
DETECTIVE MOXLEY, Part 10: “Someone In Your Circumstances”
He was a little man, behind a little desk, from which he ruled a little empire. Harold Moxley forced himself not to fidget, not to dog-ear the pages of the printed curriculum vitae clutched in both hands. The little man — his name was Fletcher — peered back at him from behind the desk.... »
DETECTIVE MOXLEY, Part 9: “Possible, But Unlikely”
“Open up, Lobby.” “Go home, Mox. You’re drunk.” “What has that got to do with anything?” Moxley said, leaning on the intercom switch. The corridor in which he stood was intentionally dank. Lobby removed light cells as fast as the building owner could replace them. “The two statements are unrelated. I’m telling you to... »
DETECTIVE MOXLEY, Part 8: “REMF”
“You’re in a lot of trouble, Moxley.” Moxley, shackled at the wrists, looked up at the newcomer. Major Iglesias stood even straighter at the man’s entrance, although Mox couldn’t say how that was possible. Iglesias had a stick up his nether regions that seemed to run from stem to stern. The major had busied... »