The stench of stale urine and rotting garbage clung to the air, a familiar perfume in George Topsfield’s nocturnal endeavors. Rain, a relentless drizzle that had plastered itself to the city for days, slicked the cobblestones of the alley, turning the already dismal space into a treacherous, reflective mirror of the neon-drenched city above. It was a fitting stage for the final act of this particular performance. Across from him, huddled in the meager shelter of an overflowing dumpster, was his mark: a weasel-faced accountant named Arthur Finch. #Crime #HitMan #OrganizedCrime #Mystery #Thriller #Drama
The crooked Judge: This is a job George takes on for the bookie. The bookie has a friend who is a pimp for high dollar call girls. The judge has killed one of his girls and hushed it up through his buddies in the NYPD. This angers George and he takes the job. It turns out this story is the truth, but killing a judge has its consequences. Every law agency in the area is investigating. One of the cops who helped hide the truth remembers threats from the pimp and tells a cop buddy while drinking. That cop is an ear for Ben Larkin and relays the information to him.
The Jail Job: The intended guy is in Rikers Island doing a year. George uses Juanita’s computer skills to access the inmate Database and have him released early. Vinnie tells him he is a snitch and a suspected child molester, but the truth is he is an undercover ATF officer investigating Vinnie’s interests in Rikers Island, where he controls the drug and sex trade in the huge jail. When he is taken to the prison ferry and released, he has no idea what has happened. He finds himself on the street with no funds, phone, walking after he is dropped off by the prison transport bus. He resolves himself to the thirty block walk to the ATF offices. George catches him on the way and kills him.
Gus Dyer is a detective no more. Staring into the deep wells of corruption for too many years sent him into a spiral. He tried to use the bottle to find his way out, but that only dragged him in deeper. The road to Redemption is a look at that fall and how hard that fall was. But Gus is determined to stand on his own two feet again. It remains to be seen whether he will ever become a detective again, but he is finding out that being a detective is not about a badge. It isn’t something you take on with the position either. It is in your blood, and if you have it, you cannot help but follow those impulses that flood through your body with that blood when you know something is wrong. Dead wrong…#Detective #Crime #Mystery #Thriller #Suspense #Readers #KU
Well, Earth’s Survivors is completely available from Amazon now and Kindle Unlimited, so free if you are a member. I hope those of you who downloaded it enjoyed it.
I am currently working on Wastelands. There are three books and a fourth due to be published soon, you can get them only at Amazon and again free on Kindle Unlimited. Zero – One – Two
It’s raining in New York. Heavy, cold rain. Summer has been pretty hard to find so far this season. I thought I would share part of my past week with you…
I use Windows Ten for my operating system. Not because I like Windows, but because Linux is not universally accepted yet. So I use Linux as much as I can and then Windows when I have to.
I purchased a new machine a month or so ago and it came with Windows Eleven. Oh, I could write a whole blog about how I hate Windows Eleven. And I do. It compromises you and your information on every level, because it insists on having it. It insists on knowing everything there is to know about you. Do you have five freckles on the inside of your left thigh? That would be about the only thing it doesn’t ask or know about it, but I would not count on the fact that it doesn’t know, it just might. Anyway, for me, too nosy. I buy the software and so I guess that means I am supporting the invasion of my privacy. But I would like it to be more like a car. A Toyota will drive me anywhere I want to go, but, so will a Ford, or a Chevy, or a Dodge, or, well, you get the idea. So why is it we only have Windows? Where the hell is the support for Linux? Or something else? Okay, That’s all I have on that.
So, I deep sixed the machine I bought because, as it turns out, you can not easily delete win 11, at least on this machine. It would not allow me to install my Win 10. I struggled with it for a week. I decided in that space of time that there was not redeeming quality there and then one day I went online, ordered the parts from Amazon to fix my old machine. Kicked myself for not doing that first, and once they came I spent a few hours fixing the old machine. Once I was done I unplugged the new machine, stuck it back in the box and slid it under my desk. It made a great foot rest until my mother’s machine locked up the other day.
Moms machine is my old machine. I wrote several short stories and my first novel on that machine, a lawn sale item I had all of 40.00 dollars into. “Well, how would you like a Windows 11 machine, Mom,” I asked? For her it’s great. She is a social animal, Mom is. I think something like 600 face book friends. She has all her on-line shopping places, her Kindle account. Huh, I said to her, people actually use computers to socialize? Mom just laughed at me. She figured out Win 11 immediately and has no problem with it. Humph…
I use Windows ten and it makes me money, or helps me to make a living. It’s a tool I use to run the software that makes my living, and allows me to access the publishing services I need to be able to make my living. It also allows me to buy and sell on-line if I so choose, use software to listen to music, manipulate my artwork and create Artwork too. Record Music of my own. Read other E-Books (Yes, I read other authors, not just the ones here at writerz.net). In short I spend a great deal of time in the Windows environment and all I ever do is complain about it, uh, sort of like I am right now. But once I got a load of Win 11 I decided I would embrace Win 10. No more complaints from me.
So, last week I went to Google for a translation for a phrase spoken by one of the characters in Earth’s Survivors Three. Candace Loi is Japanese and African American. Her Grandmother spoke Japanese. I remembered the pronunciation for Grand Daughter in Japanese, but did not want to hack the spelling. And, growing up and hearing it, having an idea in my head what it meant, and then what it really means are different things sometimes. I went with Magomusume instead of Mago. Magomusume is more formal, and not really used often. But, I didn’t want to confuse things, it’s not like the character can launch into a long explanation about why it is not usually used in the Gender specific form.
So, I found it, but, when I had searched, it had also shown me a few images of people that indirectly related to my search. Japanese life. Yes, for once, not porn that always seems to pop up, but actual people… With their clothes on. I was awed, and I did something I rarely do, I spent about four hours more on Google looking for more pictures of people from all walks of life. So when you read Earth’s Survivors Three and you reach the point where Candace explains Magomusume you will know that as soon as I wrote that I then spent four or so hours Googleing stuff. I went ahead and clicked the ‘Images’ link on Google. Like I said, usually I am Leery of it, but this time I carefully restricted my keywords and was rewarded.
Poor, Gypsies, Vietnamese, Japanese, Native American, African and African American. One simply led to the next. And, why look if you don’t intend to keep? The reason I thought of that is because I know a man who, whenever I visit, has his desktop machine (A MAC, Ironically) set to show different life scenes. And this is on his office machine, so, while I’m waiting, I watch the picture show. I have been there enough times to know the pictures, and so I anticipate certain ones.
I sit in the padded leather chair, in his office, in America, where even the very poor do not starve to death in the streets, or get shot or terrorized by soldiers, or shot, killed and dumped in a ditch somewhere. At least not as the normal course of a day. Violence does happen here too. Having both grown up poor, and spent time actually living on the streets as a teen, I understand that what we see on the surface is only a poor reflection of what is under that surface. But I sit in his padded leather chair and I watch scenes from all over the world. People, Artwork, Animals, Architecture and more. It’s pleasant to watch. Soothing. I suppose it is for him too.
But the images I discovered that day were people who knew nothing at all about me. My life. My computer. The life I lead is so far from their life that it might just be incomprehensible to them. In any case, for most of them, they will never live this type of life. And, they don’t look all that unhappy about the possibility of never living this life to me.
Yes, in some instances I’m sure they are. When their basic rights are violated, when they are oppressed, when they are hungry. Not our version of hungry, I mean when they have not eaten. Maybe for days. So, their life is not all roses, but they don’t miss what they have never thought about, seen, or experienced. And I looked at the pictures and I thought this is what I need to look at every day. This is what can keep me connected to the real world. That is important to me. Being grounded. Staying grounded.
So I spent about four hours and downloaded every picture that I came across that I liked. I put them in a folder and I have added to that folder a few times now when I have thought of other people I would like to see. Then I set my desktop to that folder and voila. I Guess I am bringing it up because it affected me in some unexpected ways.
First, I have 4 monitors, so as I work I can see the pictures change, for the most part. The only time I can’t is when I have something else up on the other monitors. But, I found that I tend to leave a monitor blank most of the time now. And that, throughout my day, I am watching the faces pop up. A mother in Africa with her baby. A band of Gypsies exiled by Hitler before or during the war. He hated them as much as he did the Jewish people. A proud but poor father in Mexico posing outside of a house most of us would not want to step inside of let alone call home, with his family. All smiling. Looks like they have a lot of love if not money.
A young Native American mother sometime back in the 1700’s staring wide eyed at the camera, her child held in her arms. She looks so young and scared. A little Boy smiling up at the camera, tribal scars on both sides of his face. He looks so happy. His smile is genuine. A mother nursing. Rebels posing with Machine Guns on a road in a jungle somewhere. A young Vietnamese woman making her way through the ruined streets of some Vietnamese city. A Chinese woman with her child on her back, wrapped and looking at the world go by as mom makes her way to where ever she is going. And more…
A family on the road. A father carrying his children. Images of war, images of peace. Images I have no context for, only the people looking into the lens of the camera, or away: Caught unawares. I realized it really was keeping the world in my mind. Why is that father carrying his children? What does that mother feed her children? Do they know about the western world? What do they think about it? I like it. It keeps the world on my mind. The part of the world that is important.
I don’t mean our jobs, bills, house payments aren’t important, I am only saying that people are more important. Seeing these people from all over the world. Some surely still living, some long gone away, keeps me grounded. If only because of what I just said. Know some a re gone. Some still here. It reminds me that there were times with my family, friends, I wish I could have back, had cherished more. Some of those people are gone now. If I remember them as I look at the pictures it’s like they never left. And, there are the questions I have for those I see in the pictures too. It keeps the important things in the world in perspective for me.
It has been an interesting week, and I am glad I made the change. It even makes me grateful, yes, grateful, to Microsoft for this desktop where I can watch those changing pictures. Or whoever came up with the idea. Does that mean I can’t complain about Windows anymore?
In the heart of the vast and shimmering Pacific Ocean, three young ship boys, each no more than a few years past their childhood, found themselves cast away on a breathtakingly beautiful tropical island. This was no ordinary place; it was a lush paradise adorned with vibrant flora and fauna, where the warm sun kissed the golden sands and the gentle waves whispered secrets of the sea. Yet, beneath this idyllic exterior lay the harsh reality of survival in the 17th century, a time when the world was still largely unexplored and filled with both wonder and danger. #HistoricalFiction #SeaAdventure #DellSweet #KU #Kindle #Readers #BookLovers #Paperback
The Mexican is a crime story that follows a young man as he makes a fateful series of decisions that place him right square in the middle of an ongoing drug deal gone bad. Murder, betrayal, violence, hot women, guns, car chases and killers all thrown together for a fast ride through Mexico…
#Mexico #dellsweet #audiostory #Free #crimestory
The Mexican
The dust swirled around my worn boots, a miniature desert storm kicked up by the frantic thump of my own heart. The air hung thick and heavy, the scent of dry earth and something elseโฆ something metallic and sickeningly sweet, clinging to the back of my throat. It was the smell of blood. Old blood. New blood. The kind that stains the soul as deeply as it stains the earth. Iโd been clean for six months, six agonizing months of sweat-soaked nights and gnawing cravings, a testament to a willpower I never knew I possessed. Six months of staring at the cracked pavement, avoiding the shadowed corners where my past lurked like a hungry ghost. But tonight, the ghost had found me…
Gus Dyer is a hardcore detective in the big city. He knows what crime is, and he has seen the worst of the worst walk her streets and taken those same people down. Some to jail, some to the gates of hell where they belonged in the first place.This time he is on the trail of a hired killer, Jimmy West. West works out of the city. It is his base and fortress, the place where he can roam free among millions of other people unseen, unchallenged and free to continue his crimes.#Detective #Crime #Mystery #Thriller #Suspense #Readers #KU
Gus Dyer The road to Redemption
Gus Dyer is a detective no more. Staring into the deep wells of corruption for too many years sent him into a spiral. He tried to use the bottle to find his way out, but that only dragged him in deeper. The road to Redemption is a look at that fall and how hard that fall was. But Gus is determined to stand on his own two feet again. It remains to be seen whether he will ever become a detective again, but he is finding out that being a detective is not about a badge. It isn’t something you take on with the position either. It is in your blood, and if you have it, you cannot help but follow those impulses that flood through your body with that blood when you know something is wrong. Dead wrong…#Detective #Crime #Mystery #Thriller #Suspense #Readers #KU
Connected
Connected: Short Hauls Kindle Edition
Book 1 of 3: Connected
A collection of seven crime stories; including Harrows… They had been drinking one night when Robby had come out with the murder bit. #ShortStories #CrimeFiction #Watson #Readerrs #Kindle
Connected: Sanger Road Kindle Edition
Book 2 of 3: Connected
Sanger Road… Pulled from his mundane life, Carl finds a world where anything is possible if you are willing to risk everythingโฆ #Crime #Readers #Amazon #Kindle #BookLovers
Connected: Dello Green Kindle Edition
Book 3 of 3: Connected
Jimmy West backed his big Dodge around to an open dumpster container, late afternoon was a perfect time to dump a bodyโฆ #CrimeFiction #CrimeJunkkies #CrimeReaders #Kindle #Amazon
Private Investigations: The John Rourke Private Detective series
John Rourke is a private detective with contacts and a license to practice from New York to Arizona. He has the resources he needs across the country to find the information he needs to crack the toughest cases. Ex-cops, ex-Cons, snitches, stoolies, drug addicts, criminals, drug dealers and any kind of scum of the earth you can imagine or care to name. He knows the seedy side of life and to some people that makes him indispensable…
Book one:
The chipped paint on my beat-up Ford Falcon was flaking like old skin. The smell of stale coffee clung to the interior like a cheap perfume, a constant, bitter reminder of the long hours ahead. Across the street, Paul Fieldsโ two-story colonial loomed, a picture of suburban perfection, a stark contrast to the cramped discomfort of my temporary office. The relentless hum of traffic on Hemlock Drive was a dull, throbbing ache in my skull, a soundtrack to this tedious ballet of surveillance. My gut churned, not from the coffee, but from the gnawing feeling that I was hemorrhaging money, bleeding my retainer dry on this seemingly pointless stakeout…
Private Investigations 2: A John Rourke detective Story (Private Investigations: John Rourke Private Detective Stories)ย Kindle Edition Book 2 of 3: Private Investigations: John Rourke Private Detective Storiesbyย W. W. Watson(Author)Format:ย Kindle Edition J Book 2 of 3: Private Investigations: John Rourke Private Detective Stories John Rourke is a private detective with contacts and a license to practice from New York to Arizona. He has the resources he needs across the country to find the information he needs to crack the toughest cases. Ex-cops, ex-Cons, snitches, stoolies, drug addicts, criminals, drug dealers and any kind of scum of the earth you can imagine or care to name. He knows the seedy side of life and to some people that makes him indispensable…
Book two:
My apartment, usually a sanctuary of quiet solitude, became a temporary forensic lab. The dining table transformed into a command center, littered with maps, photographs, financial records, and transcripts of intercepted phone calls. The air hung heavy with the scent of stale coffee and the lingering aroma of cheap takeout containers. Days bled into nights as I painstakingly organized the evidence, meticulously documenting every detail, creating a comprehensive narrative that would stand up to the scrutiny of the legal system… #BookWorm #Readers #KindleUnlimited #WWWatson #Crime #Noir #Mystery #PrivateEye
John Rourke is a private detective with contacts and a license to practice from New York to Arizona. He has the resources he needs across the country to find the information he needs to crack the toughest cases. Ex-cops, ex-Cons, snitches, stoolies, drug addicts, criminals, drug dealers and any kind of scum of the earth you can imagine or care to name. He knows the seedy side of life and to some people that makes him indispensable…
Book three:
The silence was broken by the distant screech of a hawk, its cry sharp and piercing against the vast silence of the desert. It was a lonely sound, a perfect metaphor for the state of my own soul. I was tired, bone-deep tired. Sleep was a luxury I couldn’t afford, nightmares a constant companion. The faces of the victims, the ones Iโd found along Rieserโs trail, haunted my dreams. Each one a testament to the brutal efficiency of a man who knew how to erase his tracks… #BookWorm #Readers #KindleUnlimited #WWWatson #Crime #Noir #Mystery #PrivateEye
The True: True stories from a small town are true stories from that place. From my childhood up through my adulthood. Some heartfelt, some heart rending, some the horrible truth of the life I lived at that time… #NonFiction #Crime #OrganizedCrime #Childhood #Readers #KU #Amazon
True: True stories from a small town #2
In my younger days I lived my life like there was no tomorrow. I wasn’t thinking about what to do when the check came due, when life changed, when I crossed someone or they crossed me. I wish I had grown up different, but my time on the streets and the lessons that taught me. #NonFiction #Crime #OrganizedCrime #Childhood #Readers #KU #Amazon
True: True stories from a small town #3
In AA they say that addictions will take you to hospitals, Mental Institutions and Prisons. It’s true. They will. I have been in all of those places because of my addictions. But addictions are not responsible for the life I lead entirely, and certainly not responsible for the things I did. #NonFiction #Crime #OrganizedCrime #Childhood #Readers #KU #Amazon
True: True stories from a small town #4
The True: True stories from a small town are true stories from that place. From my childhood up through my adulthood. Some heartfelt, some heart rending, some the horrible truth of the life I lived at that time… (Based on a true story from my life. Names have been changed, but truthfully almost all of them are dead now so it doesn’t matter.) #NonFiction #Crime #OrganizedCrime #Childhood #Readers #KU #Amazon
The hand was mangled. It looked chewed, a finger missing, maybe an accident with a dog, his mind supplied. Accidents with dogs happened. He watched the little boy stumble along. The arm a grotesque parody of a real arm… #KU #Amazon #Readers #BookLovers #Zombies #ApocalypticFiction #DellSweet