When you grow up in Springfield, Illinois, you’ve heard the stories about Paul Powell and the concealed cash stash. . .
Tag: Mondays Are Murder
Detective Harry Crenshaw glanced at the pamphlet one more time. . .
I lived on a farm on Falls Road in those days. . .
Parnham tells me to come downtown. I stop to get cigarettes. On the shelf behind the cashier are brown paper bags of nuts. I buy one, then continue on to Central and park my car across from the courthouse. . . .
Raindrops glistened about Sue’s minivan the day she left . . .
There’s nowhere more unsafe than the back of an ambulance. . .
They pitched their Good News. He wasn’t buying it. Not on the worst day of his life, not ever. . .
Keenan offered me the drop gun but I said no. I didn’t think I was that kind of cop. . .