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Robert Stephen, writer, photographer, storyteller
  • Home
  • blog
  • Writing
  • Helpful Hints for Writers of Fiction
  • WHAT OTHER WRITERS HAVE TO SAY
  • AUDIO ESSAYS-STORIES-AND MORE
  • Photography
  • Rory and El Paso
  • Pierre and the Baker
  • About
  • Connect
Robert Stephen, writer, photographer, storyteller

THE EXCITING JOURNEY OF Writing
​a Fictional Book

"IT'S A LUXURY BEING A WRITER,
​ BECAUSE ALL YOU EVER THINK ABOUT IS LIFE."

​AMY TAN






HOW FAR WOULD YOU GO FOR SOMEONE YOU LOVE?

7/13/2018
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How far would you go for the person you love? We see and hear stories all the time about love and the lengths people will go to. When I considered love drives people to do crazy things I wrote “She Texted: I Need Your Help.”

William Haler, the protagonist finds himself entangled in mystery. Natalie Hill sends William a text early one morning pleading for his help. He hasn’t spoken to Natalie in months and has no idea where she is. He can’t refuse her because William loves Natalie and always has.

Driven by love, step-by-step William is drawn into Natalie’s world. When he discovers Natalie is not who he thought she was, it’s too late. A man is murdered and William is the police only suspect. Torn between love and survival William tries to find Natalie, but uncovers a truth that will cost him his life.

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​Did you know that King of England abdicated the throne of England for the woman, a commoner, he loved?

Born on June 23, 1894, Edward VIII was a popular member of the royal family and heir to the throne. In 1931, then known as the Prince of Wales, Edward met and fell in love with American socialite Wallis Simpson.

After George V's death, the prince became King Edward VIII. However, because his marriage to Simpson, an American divorcée, was forbidden, Edward abdicated the throne after ruling for less than a year. Thereafter, he took the title Duke of Windsor and embarked on a jet-setting life with his new wife. He died in France in 1972.

https://www.biography.com/people/edward-viii-9542031




#edwardVIII,#love,#drivenbylove,#ineedyourhelp,#writing,#mystery,#murder,#killforlove,#novel,#becomeawriter
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(Excerpt from) SHE TEXTED: I NEED YOUR HELP-coming October 15th

7/9/2018
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Recently a kayaker was paddling a half mile off shore when a Great White attacked. His broken kayak washed ashore later that day. Days later a family of four was hiking in the forest. They never saw the Grizzly until it was too late. Two family members survived.
 
Who would expect four innocent words to be as lethal?
William Haler


CHAPTER 1

           I had one of those dreams last night. The type that seems so real. A dream that shocks you awake and leaves your heart pounding at a speed you think your chest will explode.
            I dreamed I was standing in a doorway of a room staring into a forest of black unable to see a foot in front of me. Beyond the darkness I heard a female’s voice humming and growing louder. Suddenly two bright, deep set eyes, full of milky white tears, floated above me. The eyes looked familiar. They drifted towards me and a voice whispered my name. I froze. The eyes grew larger; the stream of tears changed to a river of blood.

           
             I woke lying in a pool of sweat. As I opened my eyes and entered reality, the nightmare faded into my subconscious and disappeared. My mouth felt like a dry riverbed with a sticky metallic taste. It was blood from my gums due to clenching my teeth all night. Dentist said it was from stress and said I needed to wear one of those mouth guards.  
            Staring at the ceiling I tried to focus my eyes in the dim light, but it was nothing more than a gray canvas. If I didn’t know the location of the light fixture I’d have thought someone painted a charcoal smudge above me. I didn’t have to look at the time; it was around 6:00 a.m. My heart was still beating like an out-of-control punch press. Breathe William begged the voice in my brain. I shook my head to clear my thoughts. Wow, what a dream.
             I rolled out of bed and stood. My muscles felt sore and stiff as if I’d been beat up. As I stretched a picture of those eyes flashed and evaporated like snapshot. I had to force my mind to focus on another ordinary day.
           After showering, I got dressed wearing the same clothes I wore yesterday, including my socks. They were on the third day of my four day rule, except my underwear, they were fresh. After my second cup of coffee I checked my cell phone, which I left back in my bedroom. This is the moment I’ll call the crossroads, when my life changed. There was a text message, “I need your help.” The message was from Natalie sent 4:00 in the morning. 



#murdermystery,#writinginfirstperson,#newnovel,#newbook,#writing,#learntowrite,#youcandoit,#nofear,#beawriter


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COMING OCTOBER 15TH-"SHE TEXTED: I NEED YOUR HELP"

7/7/2018
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I NEED YOUR HELP
Unbeknownst to William Haler they would become the four most dangerous words he’s ever read.

Natalie Hill, the woman who sent the message is missing and he must find her. She’s the woman William loves but cannot have.

From the lips of a dying man his only clue THE CONCERT, draws William deeper and deeper into a twisted world of lies and murder.

These four words have opened the door to William Haler’s worst nightmare.



    New mystery crime novel coming October 15th, 2018.






#new novel,#writing,#learntowrite,#whatsstoppingyou,#storytelling,#novelist,#crimestory,.#writeabook
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NEW SHORT STORY-GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE I CHANGE MY MIND

7/2/2018
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REVENGE-the action of inflicting hurt or harm on someone for an injury or wrong suffered at their hands.
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MAKE YOUR NOVEL DANCE OFF THE PAGE AND INTO THE READER'S MIND

6/24/2018
SHOW THE READERS EVERYTHING----TELL THEM NOTHING
Ernest Hemingway


I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ve learned “show don’t tell” takes practice, practice, practice. Every fictional author’s biography shares one message in common. A single thread that will help every other aspiring author and that is read a lot.

Over the years I’ve read numerous books, but it was only until recently when I myself started writing that I questioned why certain books I’ve read have stayed with me for decades while others have not.

I went back into my overstuffed with nonsense closet and pulled out a box of books I never gave away. I try to read 3-4 books simultaneously. A chapter in one, put it down, a chapter in another, put it down, and so on, and so on.

I grabbed 3 books from my “refuse to dispose of box.” Each was a bestseller in their time and each became hit movies. WHY, I asked. So, I started reading them and paid close attention to the writing.


MAY I SUGGEST:
I keep a pad and pen with me while I’m reading for one specific reason. When I find a sentence that stands out and fits into “show don’t tell” I write it down. Every day I re-read my growing list to help me develop what I call a descriptive mind.

The following sentences are some I have found interesting and helpful. I’m sure you will find equally interesting sentences in the books you read.

  • A single star shone in a wedge of deep blue above the woods.
  • He lay in long grass listening to distant voices he fancied only he could hear.
  • Crusted shoes caked with debris of the pain of living.
  • It was a mere tip of a long seam of guilt that snaked its way back through the thirteen years her daughter had been alive.
  • A moon nearly full was coming up the eastern sky, which had turned azure with the sun just under the horizon.
  • They brought her remains to an ending in the crowded cemetery where the gravestones cried for breath. He watched them lower her into the dark of a world without windows
  • The ice cream had melted and leaked and was dripping off the table into a small pink lake on the floor.
  • He avoided those eyes that were wells of sorrow.
  • Clouds had moved up in the west, splitting the sun into rays that splayed in several directions.
  • Overhead was one long canopy of snowy fragrant bloom. Below the boughs the air was full of a purple twilight and far ahead a glimpse of painted sunset sky shone like a great rose window at the end of a cathedral isle.  
  • The whitewashed walls were so painfully bare and staring that she thought they must ache over their own bareness.

                                       from: Anne of Green Gables, The Horse Whisperer, Bridges of Madison County, The Exorcist

              Don't tell me the moon is shining. Show me the glint of light on broken glass.
                                                                                Anton Chekhov

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Writing a Novel is not a Team Sport

6/18/2018
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Picture yourself standing on a 40 acre plot of land. It’s nothing but rocks, weeds, and dry dirt. Underneath though lies rich fertile soil. The type of soil that will grow the most beautiful and tastiest crops anyone would be proud of. 

There’s one small problem though. You only have a shovel. No livestock to pull a hoe, hell you don’t even have a hoe. No one else is around. Just that shovel, you, and 40 acres. If you start today and work hard it might take you somewhere between 6 months and 1 year. That is if you work at it every day and you don’t quit. 

If you want to write a novel, picture yourself standing on a 40 acre plot of land. 
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As the pictures above depict, writing is a solitary endeavor if you are writing a novel. Read bio's of authors you admire. For the most part there will be nothing about writing groups. The truth is if you need others to encourage you to write you are not ready yet. Writing takes discipline and perseverance. 
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​Writing groups make me think about the settlers who came out west over 150 years ago. 
Big dreams in the beginning as a group. Helping one another with their supplies and there livestock if they had any.
Off they'd go into lands unknown. Most had no idea of the trials and tribulations that lie ahead.
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​One by one, the settlers dropped out. 
If you are still reading this you might be saying that I am so negative or that I am not encouraging you. My friends, that couldn't be further from the truth. I will always encourage anyone who wants to write, as long as they as willing to work at it. Everyday, 1-3 hours each day, 300 + days a year.

There are so many facets in writing that need to be perfected, but they only come with practice and patience. The settlers and explorers who ventured into the unknown were fearless. That is exactly what a writer has to be, fearless. Go into the unknown with the knowledge that mistakes will be made. That's okay, make them, learn from them, improve because of them. Remember one thing. Writing a novel is a solitary journey. 


                                                                                 #writing,#novel,#Iwanttobeawriter,#learntowrite,#writeanovel,#beawriter
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IMPROVE BOOK SALES-AUDIOBOOKS

6/1/2018
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If you are a writer than you have to appreciate Amazon. Don’t go crazy just yet with that statement. Years ago, decades, when print was king, if you wrote a book and dreamt of being a published writer the world for many writers was cruel.
 
It required perseverance, knowing someone, luck, an agent, and bunch more.

Today, if one chooses to follow the traditional route not much has changed. In fact, it might be more of an uphill battle.

However, with the help of Amazon specifically, today a writer can self publish. Take your work a step further and create a paperback with Amazon or Creatspace.

Each of the above has their own pluses and minuses. But this brings me to the third element, Audiobooks. The fastest growing segment of the last several years. And now, with the help of ACX, owned by Audible, an Amazon company.

I found this takes a little more effort on the author’s part to create a finished product.

After the author registers all of their pertinent information with ACX the next step is auditioning producers. The person who will read your book. 


Here is the process.
1. 
​ I described the story, the characters, their voices along with special tips for anyone choosing to read.
2.  After that section is completed the author selects up to three pages in the book that would a good representation. Select the gender and type of voice you think would be best for your book. The author needs to remember, this is your book. You are in charge.

I selected a part where Glen Barton, the homicide detective/protagonist follows a clue where he enters the dead man’s apartment without a warrant. His brother, Nikolai Koslov, the leader of a Russian gang, surprises Detective Barton and confronts him.

  
BELOW IS THE AUDITION I SELECTED TO PRODUCE “LAYERS OF DECEIT-LIES HAVE CONSEQUENCES.”
After listening, I made some corrections and gave the producer the green light to proceed to the next step. 

The following are segments from two different articles about the future of Audiobooks.


May 9, 2018 By Michael Kozlowski 

Digital audiobooks increased by 25.8% in 2016 and generated $264.8 million in revenue. Last year audiobook sales saw another strong gain of 30% and major publishers brought in $343.4 million dollars.

For the first time ever, digital audiobooks have overtaken mass market paperbacks in revenue total revenue earned. Audiobooks on tape and CD’s continue to bring in a respectable amount of money,  physical audio was $55.6 million in 2017, down 8.6% from 60.9 in 2016

Published: Jan 30, 2016 10:43 a.m. ET


JEREMYOLSHAN EDITOR- Marketwatch

                                                             Audiobooks have begun to outsell print


All good business stories begin with an economist admitting he has no idea what’s going on.
“I just don’t get it,” Richard Thaler told me a few months ago, when I asked how his book tour was going. “More people are listening to my book than reading it.”
 
Though I’m a heavy audiobook listener, and have written about how the technology is changing our relationships with reading, exercise and time, that audio has grown popular enough to outsell some traditional books is hard to fathom. Audiobooks racked up $1.5 billion in sales last year and remain the fastest-growing segment of the book publishing industry, according to the Audio Publishers Association, but text is still king.


You as the author set reasonable deadlines as to when the book will meet certain milestones and be completed. I was very pleased with the producer I selected, Dan Orders. I was very pleased that he was ahead of schedule on the first milestone. The reading of the first 15 minutes of LAYERS OF DECEIT-LIES HAVE CONSEQUENCES. 

                                                                         I am proud to share the opening 15 minutes. 
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1 DAY LEFT TO DOWNLOAD 2 NOVELS-**FREE**

5/19/2018
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COME CELEBRATE MY LAUNCHING MY 6TH NOVEL- LAYERS OF DECEIT- CRIME STORY SET IN CURRENT TIMES. FREE DOWNLOAD-

*BONUS* THE MOUSE THAT BECAME THE CAT- CRIME THRILLER SET IN LOS ANGELES DURING THE 1960'S. FREE DOWNLOAD
#9-AMAZON-SUSPENSE-SERIAL KILLER
LAST DAY


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CELEBRATE NEW BOOK-LAYERS OF DECEIT-3 DAYS *FREE* PLUS BONUS

5/16/2018
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My 6th novel Layers of Deceit is now available on Amazon. You will be able to download it for free for 3 days from 5/17 to 5/19. As an added bonus I have made The Mouse That Became The Cat also available for free for the same period of time.

Thank you for all your support!!

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LAYERS OF DECEIT-CHAPTER 4-COMING "MAY 12TH"

5/8/2018
​Chapter 4
Present Day

 
            Detective's Barton and his partner of two years, Dale Young, pulled up to the burning building. By the time they parked their unmarked car, clouds of thick black smoke had transformed to white vapors lifting lazily into the night sky. Near one of the fire trucks the fire captain and two firefighters surrounded a distraught man wearing khaki shorts and a t-shirt.
            Extending his hand the chief greeted the two approaching men.     
            “Detectives.”
            “Captain.”
            “We called you and one of our investigators, he's already inside. There's a body inside, female. This man says she's his girlfriend.”
            “Dale you talk to the boyfriend and I'll go inside.”
            “Okay.”
            Glen retrieved a white hazmat suit and breathing apparatus for protection against any contamination and entered the partially smoke filled apartment. He stood examining the area. The living room's off white colored walls were now blackened and charred from smoke and fire damage. What was once a flat screen television hanging on the wall was nothing more than a heap of melted plastic on the floor. The little amount of furniture and accessories that dressed up the room were burned and in ruin. This was all part of his crime scene.
            Calvin Sharp, the arson investigator, arriving twenty minutes earlier stood in the doorway of another room snapping pictures. Glen tapped Calvin on the shoulder and flashed his badge.
            “I've been waiting for you,” said Calvin. He shot a few more pictures then turned to Glen. In a muffled voice the investigator said, “Careful where you step.”
            Glen nodded slightly irritated he was being treated as if this were his first crime scene. They peered into another destroyed room. “This is where it started,” said Calvin. The investigator cast his flashlight's beam on the blackened walls. “The fire moved quickly through this room.”
            Glen, caught off guard, stiffened when Calvin cast his light beam over the corpse. The detective had seen numerous grotesque bodies before, but nothing this horrifying. Lying in the middle of the room was a female body, burned beyond recognition. The hungry flames had reduced portions of her to nothing but ash.
            “What's that,” asked Glen, looking at a small pile of debris on top of the body.
            “Aerosol cans and those small bottles, I'll bet nail polish remover, very flammable.”
            “That started it?”
            “No, see that melted glob by her, that's plastic. Whatever was in there is probably the accelerant. Whoever did this is an amateur. They didn't hide that someone wanted her dead. Look at the line around the neck.”
            The two men bent down to inspect the victim's neck area. “Looks like her throat was cut,” said Glen.
            “That'd be my guess,” said Calvin glancing around the room, “they cut her then set the place on fire.”
            “They?”
            “Sorry, just a figure of speech,' said Calvin.
            Minutes later Glen stepped out through the charred front door and approached Dale and the boyfriend.
            “Let's move him away from here, talk near the car, this is not going to be pretty when the Coroner comes out.”
            Not long after, two men in white suits from the coroner's office carried a stretcher with the blanket-covered body.
            “Ohhh nooo.” The boyfriend turned away burying his face in his hands.
            “I'm sorry, can you tell me who she is.”
            “She's my, was my girlfriend. I can't believe this, shit oh no,” he said. The detective's watched as the man paced back and forth, his arms wrapped around his upper body in an attempt to remove the shock induced chill.
            “We're sorry for your loss. Sir, please, sir, I know this is a very difficult time for you, but please just a moment. Who is she?” said Dale.
            The boyfriend responded in a tone bordering on indignation as if everyone knew her. “It's Toni, Toni Wilcox. She's an actress and a model.”
            Glen removed his hazmat suit and stepped over to the fire captain. “What can you tell me?”
            “When we rolled up the building was on fire. Flames were spilling out from the ground floor where they lived. We got it out quickly and found the woman's body in the bedroom. It started there.”
            “Yeah, that's what your investigator said.”
            “First man entering said the body was on fire.”
            “It's a scene I'll never forget,” said Glen scanning the area.
            “We never do,” said the captain.
            “What about the boyfriend?”
            “He comes running up the street screaming. We tackled him to the ground.”
            “Why?”
            “He tried to rush inside. He was screaming out her name.”
          “Dale what do―”
             Glen stopped to see the mounting commotion building in the crowd of onlookers.
            A slender blonde haired woman with thick black rimmed glasses led the way pushing forward through the maze of several people. In a voice of a high school principal breaking up a fight she said, “Come on, we need the cameras rolling, let's go guys.” It was Susie Pinkerton, a television reporter from Channel 9. “Excuse me excuse me, would you please, sir?” she said advancing.
            Dale blocked the reporter. “Please, a little privacy. He's just lost his girlfriend. Have a heart.”
            “And miss this story detective you've got to be kidding.”
            “Susie give us a break will you,” said Glen.
            “Hi Detective... Barton, that's it Barton. It looks like a story for 11 o'clock.”
            “You let us do our job and I promise I'll give you the scoop, but back off.”
            “We'll step back right over here, but I'm going to hold you to it.”
            “I promise.”
            “Okay lets backup here with the camera. Susie swung around and stuck her microphone into the face of a startled young boy. “Did you witness anything?”
            Shaking his head in disgust Dale turned back to his partner. “Boyfriend's name is Peter Sklar, says he chased the man who did this.”
            “I'm sorry Mr. Sklar to put you through this, but we have to ask these questions. You say you chased someone?”
            “Tha- that's right,” replied Peter, his teeth chattering. A paramedic wrapped finally a blanket over his shoulders and helped the boyfriend over to the rear of the ambulance.
             “Do you think you can take us through what happened, Peter?”
            “Toni and I li-live, I mean lived together. I-I walked over to Trader Joe's to pick up some foo- food items and a bottle of wine. It was a celebration.”
            “Birthday?”
            “N-no, Toni just landed a role in a new movie. She was go-going to start work next week along with a modeling gig for a cosmetic line. I walked down to Trader Joe's while she was setting the table and checking her email. Stuff like that.”
            “What happened?”
            “I ca-came home.”
            “How long were you gone?”
            “Twenty-twenty five minutes. I put the key in the door, opened it part way, and someone inside slammed it in my face and locked it. My key popped out of the lock and by the time I picked it up, and unlocked the door, some guy's running out the back. I threw the groceries down and yelled for Toni and― and ―”
            Glen sympathetically placed his hand on Peter's shoulder. “We're really sorry to put you through this.”
            “Did she answer,” continued Dale.
            “I don't remember, I- I don't think so.”
            “Did you recognize the intruder?”
            “No, but he looked Hispanic.”
            “That's helpful, then what?”
            “I chased him out the back door and over the back fence. We ran around the block and up the street to the next block, and down an alley.”
            “What happened next?” asked Glen.
            “I chased him. He turned and ran up a staircase of a small building. I lost him there.”
            “Were you and Miss Wilcox arguing about anything,” asked Dale.
            “Wh- what, what are you talking about? Why would we argue?”
            “Nothing Mr. Sklar, I'm sorry, but it's our job to piece things together. You're gone, a fire starts, the fire department calls us and says they discovered a body. You come running up and you can see that we have to look at every angle.”
            Bothered by the inference. “I'm not an angle, Detective. Someone killed my girlfriend, but it wasn't me.”
            “We understand, but it would be helpful if you come to the station and talk some more,” said Dale.
            “Bullshit, I'm not going anywhere with you. I didn't do this. I don't know where you're going with this but it's bullshit.”
            “Calm down Peter,” said Glen.
             Standing up, the blanket fell off Peter's shoulders. “Don't tell me to calm down or what to do.” He stepped forward pushing against Glen's chest and Dale grabbed the boyfriend's arm twisting it behind his back.
            “Ricky, you getting this on camera?” asked Susie.
            “Clear as can be.”
            “Damn it, where is my cameraman,” asked Dirk Sullivan the reporter from Channel 11.
            “Don't worry Dirk, after I call my stuff in I'll share some notes with you,” she said with a devilish grin.
            “Susie, I was here first.”
            “I'll make sure to mention that on television on my 11 o'clock.”
            “Bitch.”
            “Loser.”
            Glen gripped Peter's arm. “Stop moving Mr. Sklar or will have to arrest you.”
            “For what?”
            “Come with us,” said Dale.
            He jerked his arm away. “I'm not coming with you.”
            Glen and Dale reached Peter at the same time handcuffing him while he screamed his innocence. Susie and her camera operator got all the juicy footage while Dirk Sullivan stood helplessly by. Vans from other channels pulled up to the scene and crews scrambled out of their rolling vehicles as the detectives placed their suspect in the unmarked car. 
            With Peter handcuffed in the back seat Glen gave instructions to two uniformed officers about securing the crime scene as the forensics team arrived.
            Minutes after they drove away Glen instructed his partner. “Pull over on this side street.”
            “What are we doing?”
            “Pull over here.”
            “What for?”
            “Just do it,” said Glen.
            Dale turned and stopped on a poorly lit street as Glen got out.
            “What are you doing Glen?”
            Opening the back door Glen replied, “Just let me do this. Mr. Sklar, would you please get out of the car?”
            “Glen?”
            “I've got this trust me.”        
            Peter glared at the detective who was reaching into his pocket while motioning his prisoner to exit the vehicle.
            “What are you going to do to me?”
            “Turn around, you say you're innocent. You say you didn't start the fire or kill your girlfriend.”
            “That's right.”
            “Peter, I believe you.”
            “Then why arrest me?
”
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        “Right now you're the number one suspect, but with your help we can eliminate that notion. All you have to do is help us.”
           “What do I have to do?”
Glen turned the key. “Here I've taken off the handcuffs, all right?”
            “Glen―”
            He raised his hand to silence his partner. “What I need is for you to get back in the car and show us exactly where you chased this alleged person to where you lost him. Can you do that for me?”
            Without responding Peter was sitting in the back seat. He guided the detectives to the rear of the burned out fourplex, and showed them where he jumped over the fence in pursuit of the other man. Turning the car around Peter directed them up the street into an alley where they stopped three quarters of the way.
           Glen turned around and looked at the suspect. “Okay, Peter what happened?”
            Sitting forward and pointing. “The guy ran up those steps and disappeared.”
            “You didn't see?” asked Glen.
            “No, he either went into one of the two apartments at the top or jumped, but I lost him.”
            “Up those stairs?”
            “Yeah.”
            
           “Yeah on two counts, look at her picture, she's gorgeous, and look who her father is. Do you guys know him?” asked Dale.
            The Captain's expression hardened.”I know him.” He turned and walked away.
            “What did I say?”
            “Three years ago, just before you came on board there was a crime committed by a State Senator and a call girl?”
            “I remember.”
            “Wilcox defended the Senator. He got him off on some sloppy police work. Chief almost lost his job over that case. He hates Wilcox because this lawyer made the force and the Chief look bad,” said Glen.
            “Oh shit.”
            “Oh shit's right, I almost got assigned to that case, but ducked a bullet. And you're right about the other thing.”
            “What's that?”
            “The daughter is, I mean, was beautiful.”
            The two detectives walked back into the interrogation room where Peter was sitting, staring blankly into his untouched cup of coffee.
            “How much longer do I need to be here?”
            “Peter, until we get to the bottom of this, all night. Is that's all right with you?” said Dale.
            “Tell us about your girlfriend, Ms. Wilcox. How and where did you meet her?” asked Glen.
            Massaging his temple with his index and middle finger Peter closed eyes. “About a year and a half ago I met her at Largo West, it's a club.”
            “The club downtown?”
             “Yeah that's it. I was a guest there with some friends and Toni was sitting with a group next to us. I asked her to dance, and we hit it off.”
            “What does that mean, you hit it off?” said Glen.
            “Just what it sounds like detective. Pretty much, we danced all night and around three we Ubered to my place. She spent the night and two weeks later she moved in.”
            In a cold tone to match his mounting impatience Dale said, “Open your eyes Peter and look at me. Do you know your neighbor Ray Filbert?”
            Peter's body tensed. “You mean the old guy next door, what about him?”
            Reading from an opened thin folder labeled Sklar, Dale said, “He says lately you and Toni have been arguing with the windows open.” Scanning down the single sheet of paper. “I also have a police report about a fight you got into with someone two weeks ago. What was that about?”
            Peter sat forward. “This guy said something to Toni, and we got in a fight.”
            Dale sensed he had his suspect on the ropes and continued probing. “Report says you broke his nose and your neighbor says he heard you yelling at her. He overheard her saying she was moving out. Is that what happened Peter? She was talking to another guy who she hit it off with. Way I see it you got jealous and took things into your own hands. I think you're guilty.”
            Peter slammed his hand down on the table knocking the coffee over, “You're fucking crazy.”
            Dale achieved the reaction he was aiming for. “Really Peter, I don't think so and you're going to clean this shit up.”
            Glen, standing over in the corner, felt his cell phone vibrating in his pocket. He answered.  “Detective Barton.”
            “Hey Glen it's Russell. We found one of those small MP3 players, I think they're called a Shuffle. It was on the staircase and it looks like we can get some prints off it.”
            “What color is it?”
            “Bluish grey.”
            “Hold on Russ. Peter when you were chasing this guy was he carrying anything?”
            Peter squeezed his eyes shut. “Let me think. Yeah, he was.” In an “aha” moment his eyes shot open and wagging his finger to help his memory Peter said, “Some small plastic square, it looked like one of those MP3 Shuffles.” His eyes coldly locked in a staring match with Detective Young.
            “What color was it?” asked Glen.
            Still staring at Dale, the vein in Peter's right temple pulsing said, “I don't know maybe dark blue, it wasn't black.”
            “Thanks Russ, how long before we get some prints.”
            “Give me a couple of days, I'll call you.”
            Glen stood up and said, “Partner, let's go outside I want to talk to you.”
            As Dale followed Glen out into the hallway he turned and said to Peter, “Have this shit cleaned up before I get back.”
            “Who was that?”
            “I'm cutting Peter loose.”
            “No fucking way. He's guilty. You saw him in there, I say we charge him and throw it over to the DA.”
          “No, he didn't do it. That was Russ on the phone and they found an MP3 player like Peter described.”
            “It could have been his, he could have dropped it.”
            “I don't think so. No one is going to chase another person and hold on to this little thing, he'd put it in his pocket. My gut's telling me he's not the one.”
            “Glen, you're wrong he did it. You're going to see. She was leaving him, he gets jealous, and kills her. This guy sets the place on fire, leaves out the back door, and waits around the corner for the fire trucks. He's planned this for a while. You cut him he runs, I'll bet you twenty he's gone before the end of tomorrow.” 
           “Hell no, I'm not betting twenty, I'll bet you fifty!”
           “Fifty bucks he's not a rabbit? You're on, we'll be chasing this one.”



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    Robert Stephen.
    What makes a writer? What do you envision when you think about that question?

    Someone sitting by an open window looking out over the ocean, desert, mountains? Rainy day, foggy, sunny? 

    My definition of a writer of fiction. A person who drives himself or herself to the edge of insanity when writing a story to the best of their ability that you the reader find entertaining.

    I can honestly say my life has been interesting, far from boring.  Land baron, restaurateur, photographer, artisan, author. A life full of ups and downs. A life full of stories.

    Along the way I've met hundreds of people, some interesting, some not. Some dangerous, some beautiful, some kind, and some cruel. During my lifetime I've even had my heart run over a couple of times, but when all of it is said and done I wouldn't trade it in. 


    Writing has always been inside of me, but the siren never called to me. I wasn't ready until one day in October of 2015 when life said, "Start writing."

    Writing is a long journey, full of many perils, but don't be afraid it is an exciting adventure! 

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