If you stand in the Newnes glowworm tunnel, you can almost hear the old steam locos roaring through.
Kakadu. That vast floodplain, a wilderness as green as the eye can see, in Australia’s Northern Territory. That’s where I’d brought her to die.
“Mum! What did you do with my curling iron?”
Trinh’s voice tumbles down the staircase. There is an uncomfortable silence at the table as Leah avoids the glances of her friends . . .
Mondays Are Murder features brand-new noir fiction modeled after our award-winning Noir Series. Each story is an original one, and each takes place in a distinct location. Our web model for the series has one more restraint: a 750-word limit. Sound like murder? It is. But so are Mondays. This week, Siobhan Lyons takes us back […]
Never take a job in summer—that’s rule one. Rule two is never trust anyone. They have that rule all over, but rule one, that’s my thing. No one thinks straight in summer. You can’t rely on anyone after November . . .
The doing didn’t take long to get done. It was a hot night at the end of October, just at the time in Brisbane when the jacaranda have almost all fallen to the ground and the frangipani are blossoming on the trees. Frankie and Johnnie were spread around the deck of the small house that she rented in Annerley. 10 pm on Friday night and they hadn’t made it out . . .