Murderville: Rounds of Luck- Episode 7

The Phantom Returns

Velvet and Otis jumped to their feet at the same time, chairs shrieking and clattering.

The man just stood there, wearing all black, his face uncovered, framed by dark hair and shining pale white in the glare of the light. He stared right at the camera. Daring them.

Velvet had no doubt in her mind who it was or what he was doing. He’d come back to get them, pure and simple. She knew that the papers speculated the killer might have been looking for something the night before, and maybe he had been. But right now, all he was looking at was them.

At least it felt that way. Velvet felt his stare right through the screen even though she knew he couldn’t see her.

“I think we’re getting fired tonight,” Otis said, reaching for the phone on the desk, keeping an eye on the figure on the monitor.

“I’m good with that,” Velvet said, sounding as breathless as she felt, eyes fixated on the man on the screen.

Velvet heard him punch the numbers on the phone over her heartbeat pounding in her ears. This was the most terrifying stare down she’d ever been part of and that was saying something considering the guy wasn’t even in the building with her, let alone the same room. Worse, the longer Velvet stared, the more the man looked vaguely familiar, and that only added to her terror. She was barely aware of the click of the phone’s cutoff.

“The phone’s dead,” Otis told Velvet as he gently replaced the receiver.

A noise escaped her, something like a low, keening moan, and she leaned forward, bracing herself on the desk, eyes never leaving the monitor. This wasn’t happening. Trapped in a warehouse by a murderer and no phone or gun. Not that she knew how to shoot a gun, but Otis probably did. She would have felt a little bit better if Otis were armed. This was like a horror movie.

Velvet shook her head. If she got murdered in this warehouse, she’d never hear the end of it from her parents.

“I just wanted a normal night at work,” she complained. “This week is shit.”

“Where’s your cell phone?” Otis asked, businesslike as always. It should have been more comforting, but Velvet’s fear was whipping through her like an out of control roller coaster and it was taking everything for her not to burst into tears or laugh hysterically.

“In my car,” Velvet whispered, like the guy standing in the parking lot might hear her. “Mr. Kobel doesn’t let us have our cell phones in the building, remember? That son of a bitch. He probably just doomed us both. Probably did it on purpose, that asshole. That stupid mother-”

“Okay,” Otis said, cutting her off. Probably for the best. Velvet was working her way up to one hell of a rant. He took a deep breath and held out his hand. “Give me your keys.”

For the first time since the man appeared, Velvet looked away from the monitor long enough to look at Otis like he was crazy. He didn’t look like he’d lost his mind, but she was pretty sure he had.

“Do what?”

“Give me your keys,” Otis repeated. “I’ll go down there and get your phone.”

“Otis, the killer is standing right there,” Velvet said. She reached over to tap on the monitor to emphasize her point. The man moved just as she did, and Velvet jerked her hand away like he tried to grab her through the screen.

The two of them watched as he walked along the backside of the building and disappeared around the southwest corner.

“He’s going back to the crime scene,” Otis muttered and then louder, “Quick, Velvet, your keys. Now’s the time.”

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Now IS the time! Only one more episode left after this. Don’t be caught unaware! Check out Murderville or Patreon and get in the know!

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July Writing Projects

My mission to wrap up everything Murderville continues.

This month I’m going to wrap up the revisions on Season 5. For both Season 4 and Season 5, I employed a page limit on my revisions that allowed me to be productive without getting overwhelmed. Back in the day, I could do as much as a whole section in a day and be done with a Murderville season within a couple of weeks at most. I’m not able to do that anymore and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get back to that place. In the meantime, I’ve set myself the goal of doing 3 pages a day. That way I’m done in roughly a month, give or take, and I’m making consistent progress that isn’t overwhelming.

Once that revision is done, I’ll write the preview stories for both Season 4 and Season 5. I don’t want to get ahead of myself and my productivity, but I’m hoping to at least get started on revising them as well. If not, that will be my goal for August.

My first episode of Book ’em, Danno went live last week. I’m still trying to figure out the best way to consistently produce episodes, but as of right now, I’ve got the first three done. This gives me a little room to refine my process. And it needs a lot of refining. But I’m going to do my best to be consistent (hopefully getting a new episode out every 2-3 weeks) and have a good time.

And you know what else is a good time? Murderville: Rounds of Luck. There’s only two more episodes left and the penultimate episode goes live on July 9th. But it’s not too late to get in on that good time. Become a patron for a $1 an episode. Become a patron for $2 an episode and you get a bonus every other month. Join now!

Murderville: Rounds of Luck- Episode 6

Speculation

Otis Gorski sat at his kitchen table, eating a peanut butter sandwich, drinking a glass of chocolate milk, looking at that morning’s paper, and stewing in his own juices.

He should have quit last night when Kobel threatened to fire him. He should have just walked away right then, left that pompous twit holding the bag with the two detectives standing right there. Boy, how would that have looked? Not so pretty. Especially since Kobel would have been left scrambling for someone to fill in for him. Velvet couldn’t work alone. Wouldn’t work alone. She’d raise a holy fit if Kobel tried to make her, probably get herself fired for her mouth. Otis didn’t want to put her in that position.

Velvet wasn’t what stopped him from quitting, though she did factor in some. Otis could never leave her hanging high and dry like that. But mostly, it was his pride that kept him from quitting right there. It felt like losing and Otis never liked to lose. There was dignity in retiring that he’d be denied if he quit in a huff. Kobel would probably take a victory lap if he did that.

On page four of the paper was a short blurb about the crime scene being disturbed. The same speculation the detectives had put forth the night before, about the crime scene either having been ransacked by souvenir hunters or perhaps the killer coming back to look for something, was mentioned, as well as a recap of Simon Sidney’s murder, though not much was added. In conclusion, the whole incident was downplayed quite spectacularly.

For some reason, this disappointed Otis.

Probably because he’d so enjoyed Kobel’s name showing up multiple times in the initial newspaper report of the murder. This little blurb didn’t do enough to reflect badly on a man who threatened to fire Otis and Velvet for doing their job and calling the police. He couldn’t help but take that personally even though he knew on a logical level that the paper wasn’t there to serve his personal vendettas.

Velvet should think about leaving, too, Otis thought. She’s got a degree. She can get a good job with it. No need for her to hang around that warehouse rotting for that disrespectful jerk.

Otis flipped the page and reached for his glass of chocolate milk. Empty. He stood up to get a refill. The change in his pocket jingled and Otis remembered the coin he’d found on his rounds the night of the murder. The one he was going to show the detectives because he thought one of them might have lost it. The one he was going to keep if one of them didn’t lose it. The one that was still in his pocket, mingled with his ordinary quarters and nickels. The one he’d forgotten all about.

Otis glanced down at the paper.

The police speculated that maybe the killer had returned to the scene to look for something.

Otis took the coin out of his pocket and looked it over. He frowned and shook his head.

“No. That’s not right. I found this inside the warehouse. The killer wasn’t in there.”

Still.

Otis’s fingers closed around the coin.

“It belongs to somebody.”

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Who does it belong to? Check out Murderville or Patreon to read along and find out.

June Writing Projects

I decided in May to be kinder to myself while attempting to extract myself from a serious depressive episode. I only worked on one project last month, revising Season 4 of Murderville. Well, I’m still working on both, though it’ll only take me a couple more days to finish up revisions on Season 4 (there’s no timetable for the depression). It turns out that it needed a lot more rewriting than I’d anticipated and I also had to deal with a few more bad days than I anticipated.

For June, I think I’m just going to revise Season 5. Ideally, I want to get the rest of Murderville all wrapped up by the end of the year. Get everything revised and polished and scheduled and ebooked and what have you. I feel like I can handle that.

I also made a little more progress on Book ’em, Danno. I’ve been going back and forth on it because I can’t decide if it’s garbage or not, if it’s worth it or not, if I’m ever going to get better at it or not. I did the same thing with writing a long time ago. Why should podcasting be any different? My biggest problem is, of course, myself. I keep comparing what I’m doing to what other people are doing and the problem with that is that everyone else has been doing it a lot longer and they actually know what they’re doing and have experience and all that. Also, they’ve been able to invest a little bit in their podcasting. I’m broke and tired all the time. The quality just ain’t going to be there, babies.

The compromise I’ve worked out with myself (because I am nothing less than a belligerent toddler) is that I’ll definitely do the first season and put it up on Soundcloud. I don’t have to put it anywhere else and I don’t have to do more than that. I’m not getting paid, so it ain’t work. It’s supposed to be FUN, dammit.

You know what else is fun? Murderville: Rounds of Luck. It’s loads of fun! But there’s only a couple of episodes left. Episode 6 drops on June 11. Become a patron for only $1 an episode! Go in for the $2 tier and get a bonus every other month. Like this month. On the 26th. It’s never too late to have a good time.

Murderville: Rounds of Luck- Episode 5

Back to the Dumpsters

Velvet arrived at work that night toting bits and pieces of gossip in her head, all of it juicy, but none of it definitive. She put her cell phone and her purse in her glove box, locked her car, and hurried against the whipping autumn wind to the backdoor. Once inside The Kobel Warehouse Off Rockrine Road, Velvet quickly navigated the maze to the security room, not pausing to think about what might be lurking in or around that new crate (or the other side of that wall). She found the atmosphere in the security room an odd mix of boiling and icy.

Cami and Trey sat hunched in their chairs while Otis stood behind them, arms folded across his thin chest, absolutely fuming.

“Hey, guys, how’s it going?” Velvet asked hesitantly, looking around the room as she spoke, trying to figure out what the hell had happened.

“Otis is in a mood,” Trey said, getting to his feet.

“He’s always in a mood,” Velvet said, casting a glance at Otis, who was definitely in a mood.

Cami stood up, too.

“Where are you going?” Otis asked, his voice gruffer than usual. “You still got ten minutes.”

“I’ll take the cut,” Trey said, scooching past Velvet to get out of the door. Cami followed right behind him.

Velvet stared at Otis, who stared back. She listened for Trey and Cami to clock out, gave them a second to flee, and then walked back out of the security room to clock in. Otis followed her. The two of them clocked in and went back in the security room to start their shift.

“What did you do?” Velvet asked.

“I didn’t do anything. It’s what Kobel did,” Otis said, sitting heavily in his chair, the damn thing screaming like an overacting victim in a cheap horror movie.

“What did Mr. Kobel do?” Velvet asked, sitting down in her own chair a little more delicately. It still squeaked horrendously.

“Left a message for us.”

Otis sat back in his chair, ignoring the noise, and glared at the monitors. Velvet stared at him for a moment, waiting. With a roll of her eyes, she prompted him, speaking slowly, enunciating every word.

“What is the message, Otis?”

“He said that the next time we need to call the police, we’re supposed to call him first,” Otis said.

Velvet waited and when Otis said nothing more, she picked apart the sentence, looking for the insult.

“So?” she said.

“So?” Otis scoffed. “I’m not deferring my judgment and my responsibilities to that man.”

“It’s his warehouse, Otis,” Velvet said, shaking her head at Otis’s wounded pride.

“And it’s my job.”

“I thought you were retiring.”

“And until I do, this is still my job.”

Otis shut down, going into full pout mode, his whole posture a frown. Velvet sighed, and leaned back in her chair, looking up at the monitors. Why did men have to be so impossible?

Normally, Otis would have walked the first round, but he was in such a fiercely foul mope over his job and retirement that he didn’t even make an attempt to get out of the chair when Velvet told him it was time. So, she walked the first round, her own mood souring over Otis’s behavior and his impending retirement (which she was still not sure he’d actually be able to go through with, but was afraid that he would), her brain rolling over the bits of gossip she’d acquired during the day in an attempt to keep the dark shadow of fear at bay. Because against all logic, Velvet was a little afraid. The killer was long gone. Those shadows were just shadows and those noises were just noises. There was nothing to be afraid of. Yet she was. Just a little.

Velvet completed that round in record time, coming back to the security room to find that Otis’s mood hadn’t improved

“It’s going to be a long night,” she said as she sat down.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you’re in full grump,” Velvet said. “You’re no fun when you’re in full grump.”

Otis grumped loudly in reply. “I’m not here to have fun.”

“Yeah, but it’s only when you’re in full grump that it makes it impossible for me to have fun.”

Otis ignored her. Velvet reached over and gave him a nudge.

“You’re not really going to retire, Otis. Right?”

“My mind is made up, Velvet, and there’s nothing you can do to change it.”

Velvet crossed her arms in a huff. “You’re a real pain, Otis.”

“Well, you won’t have to put up with me for much longer.”

“But I want to put up with you.” Velvet paused. “Except when you’re being a grump.”

Otis didn’t respond.

Velvet left him be for a bit. Her eyes drifted over the monitors in a pattern, starting at the top and working across, then down and across again, back and forth. It was a soothing sort of thing, even if she did end up suffering from eyestrain after a couple of hours. But it was also an easy way to pass the time. It didn’t require much thought.

“I’m going to walk rounds.”

Velvet jumped, her chair squeaking loudly and preventing her from pretending that she hadn’t. Otis looked over at her with a raised eyebrow before his own chair squealed as he got up.

“So nice of you to participate,” Velvet said. “I was wondering since you were retiring if you were going to walk rounds at all.”

“I always do my job,” Otis said, deadly serious.

“Really? You didn’t walk the first round.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“I never have to!”

“I’ll be back.”

Otis stalked out of the security room, flashlight in hand and radio on his belt.

“Maybe it would be better if that old grouch did retire,” Velvet muttered to herself, knowing full well she didn’t really mean it.

She went back to the monitors, watching Otis disappear and reappear as he walked through the maze. Something on another monitor caught her eye. It moved quickly, but Velvet was a little quicker, seeing it before it vanished.

A shadow in the parking lot.

###

Trouble has returned. Or has it? The only way to know is to read. Check out Murderville or Patreon to find out how.

May Writing Projects

April was sort of a wacky month. I took a break from the To Do List to do a couple of things on my wishlist and ended up getting nothing done that I intended, but things did get done.

I was supposed to put together a poetry chapbook and do some research on one of the TV books I want to write one day. What I ended up doing was writing a poem a day (like I usually do in April for National Poetry Month) because I felt like I didn’t have the poems I needed/wanted for a chapbook, working on Book ’em, Danno (it’s still a mess, but getting better), writing one short story to submit for an anthology, and two pieces of hint fiction for a contest.

Wild how that happens, huh?

This month I’m getting back to the To Do List. I’m going to revise Murderville Season 4. Yes, that’s it. I’m dealing with some personal shit right now, so I’m trying to play it with a loose hat, as they say. I need the room to be flexible and committing to only one project this month will let me do that.

Besides, we’ve seen what happens when I give myself a little room. Who knows what I might end up talking myself into doing because I have the time?

However, Murderville: Rounds of Luck is running out of time. Only three more episodes left! Episode 5 goes live on May 14th. Become a patron for only $1 or $2 an episode and enjoy the fun. There’s always plenty of time for that.

Murderville: Rounds of Luck- Episode 4

Official Gossip

The Munsterville Courier was a marvel of a modern newspaper. No matter how late a story broke, they always seemed to have it first thing in the morning, usually on the front page. And not just online. In the physical copy, too.

Simon Sidney’s murder was no different.

Otis sat at his kitchen table, eating a peanut butter sandwich, drinking a glass of chocolate milk, and reading about what he’d already experienced, which was splashed in glorious fashion all over the front page. He was somewhat relieved that his and Velvet’s names were kept out of the press and a little more than tickled that Manfred Kobel’s was splattered all over it. Just out of spite, he hoped some rumors about the man started.

And judging by the way the article was written, they would.

The article highlighted that the body was found at The Kobel Warehouse Off Rockrine Road, a warehouse that Mr. Kobel was thinking of selling, possibly to the victim, something that Otis didn’t know. He reckoned that none of the other security guards knew it either. And none of them probably would have known until the day the warehouse was sold and they were all fired. Otis realized it was very likely that Simon Sidney’s death saved all of their jobs, at least until Kobel could find another buyer. Not that it mattered much to Otis. He was retiring.

The paper also went into great detail about the business deals and steals of the two men. There was also something else about Simon Sidney’s estranged wife and his connection to a dead woman found at The End Of and the late Winchester Harmon, but that didn’t interest him. He preferred the parts that drug Manfred Kobel through the mud.

It served the man right. Otis didn’t believe in Karma, but in this case, he was willing to make an exception. If Kobel was going to insult Otis’s work, then he could be insulted, too. Being seen as a shady businessman and a murder suspect in the court of public opinion was much better than any name Otis could think to call the man.

Otis finished the paper and his peanut butter sandwich, only pausing here and there to read a few shorter blurbs of other stories that caught his eye. When he got up to get another peanut butter sandwich, he got his checkbook, too.

As he ate, Otis looked over his finances. Growing up poor had taught him two things: be frugal and be meticulous with money. Otis only bought things when he was sure he could afford them, which was why he drove a car nearly twenty years old; he wasn’t sure that he could afford any of those pricey new ones. He bought a house, the one he still lived in, but it was an investment when he bought it all those years ago and he’d been good about taking care of it, even if it wasn’t as up-to-date and fancy as some of the others in the neighborhood. Take the kitchen for example. The stove was over twenty years old and one of the knobs was gone and sometimes it shocked you if you were touching the sink at the same time, but it still worked just as well as when he’d bought it from a rummage sale about fifteen years ago. The table came from his grandmother’s basement and despite a couple of nicks was still in good shape. The wood paneling and the floor were new-ish; he’d redone them both about five years ago. The place might be well-worn and lived-in, but it was a good house.

He’d tried to pass on some of his wisdom to Velvet, though she seemed to have a pretty good head on her shoulders when it came to money. She didn’t wait to get married to buy a house and she was in no hurry to buy a new car even though the one she drove was paid for. He couldn’t convince her to spend less on clothes or make-up, though.

Otis had one hundred thousand dollars in his checking account. He also had savings accounts pushing two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, thanks to steady deposits and interest. Otis frowned. He wasn’t sure that’d be enough. He probably should have started investing in CDs or bonds or something, but Otis didn’t really trust that sort of thing. He wasn’t even sure about the savings account, but the bank had proven solid over the decades he’d used them. He still kept about ten thousand dollars in cash in the house, though. Just for emergencies. Thinking critically about his money situation, Otis decided that he could afford to retire if he really had to, though he might have to splurge on fewer name brands during grocery shopping trips just to be safe.

When he stood up to return his checkbook to its proper place and to get another glass of chocolate milk, the jingling in his pocket caught his attention. It wasn’t an unusual sound by any means, but it reminded Otis of what was actually in there.

Digging into his pocket, Otis found the coin and pulled it out. He sat down at the table again, checkbook and milk forgotten as he examined the coin, turning it over and over in his hands. It wasn’t any American or Canadian currency he knew. Didn’t look like the English money he’d seen either. There was a bird on one side, sort of like an eagle, and there was star and crescent on the other side. It was strange. And it didn’t look like it’d ever been used, like most currency, nor did it have that look of being a forgotten lucky charm. This had been cared for, the silver gleamed in the morning sunlight spilling into the kitchen. This was important.

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But why is it important? The only way to find out is to keep reading. And to keep reading, check out Murderville or Patreon.