I watched that little trailer for three days and nights until I knew the old man’s routine. And, the whole time I couldn’t stop wondering how somebody like him ended up in a place like this.
Norman drove towards his home town of Sycamore, Missouri. It was about sunup on a Sunday. He had been driving for many hours.
Joe hesitated, then strode into the darkness of the bar. In the seconds it took for his eyes to adjust he could tell he would have the place virtually to himself for a while.
To celebrate the release of St. Louis Noir, the latest from Akashic’s Noir Series, we’re pleased to give you a behind-the-scenes look at the collection with editor Scott Phillips’s introduction, “High and Low Collide.”
Join us for the launches of our new Noir Series books in St. Louis, MO, and Oxford, MS!
The nurse pulled onto the outer road parallel to the interstate. The blue friendliness of the St. Luke’s sign radiated faintly in the dawn light as he accelerated before the red admonition of the emergency sign took over his view. He clicked off the malfunctioning turn signal. The morning traffic was light, almost nonexistent. He waited until he had reached forty-five miles an hour to remove his skull-and-bones do-rag, the first phase of his elaborate post-work ritual . . .