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The story “Murder on the Eighty-Six” previously appeared in Mystery Tribune
To my horror, when I reached for the stick, I accidentally sent it flying backwards deep under the seat and out of my reach. I’d have to get down on all fours to locate it. But it was too late. Tsai was standing directly behind me brandishing a wicked-looking cutting knife with a six-inch blade. The other passengers saw it, too. An older woman sitting on the bench opposite Ruthie screamed.
—from “Murder On the Eighty-Six”
Bart got on the car radio’s PA system.
“ILYA, CAN YOU HEAR ME?” Bart spoke in Russian. “MY NAME IS LIEUTENANT BARTHOLOMEW MIKHALOVICH CABOT. NO ONE IS GOING TO HURT YOU. WE JUST NEED TO TALK, OKAY?”
“Leave me alone; I’ve done nothing wrong!” Bart translated Popov’s response to me quickly.
—from “Squeeze Play”
. . . The next thing I know, I’m awarded a contract for $2 million in bitcoin to take out this raghead. I don’t know what this guy did to piss off the Tali so badly. Easy money, huh? But I never figured that the Iranians would renege on the deal and screw me over.”
“You never received the necessary funds to make a clean getaway.”
“That’s right. If I had that money right now and, let’s say, a 12-hour head start, I’d walk out of here and let both of you live. Sorry. Them’s the breaks though, right, Bartholomew?”
—from “Kill Shot”