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The Shill
Kill the Shill
By Anthony Neil Smith
Worm (TP only)
All the Young Warriors TP only)
Once a Warrior (TP only)
By Liam Sweeny
Welcome Back, Jack
By Art Taylor (editor)
Murder Under the Oaks: Bouchercon Anthology 2015
By Lono Waiwaiole
Wiley's Lament
Wiley's Shuffle
Wiley's Refrain
Dark Paradise
By Vincent Zandri
Moonlight Weeps
(*) Coming soon
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Here’s a sample from Eric Beetner & Frank Zafiro’s The Backlist.
ONE
Bricks
Getting in to see the old man used to be easier.
Actually, it was even easier to get face time with his old man, but I guess it isn’t really fair to make comparisons. I was still wearing pigtails and a training bra when Saverio was the boss. Not exactly a major security threat. Add to that the fact that I was always with my pops, who Saverio trusted in more ways than one, including with his life.
So I guess I shouldn’t judge Salvatore too harshly. He inherited the big chair at a time when any pretense of omerta was out the door, and when the family started making sure its soldiers remained loyal through pretty simple means: if you turned rat, they killed your whole family. It was old school Sicilian. It was harsh. And it was effective. There wasn’t a single made guy who turned state’s evidence in the decade Sal’s been the boss. So that’s something ya gotta respect.
Still, getting through the gauntlet of doors and sides of beef wearing cheap suits just to see him was a pain in the ass. And he summoned me. It’s not like I was just showing up trying to sell magazine subscriptions.
Finally, I made it into the waiting area outside his office. Bruno Taggliarti stood next to the door, his giant arms crossed over his chest. He looked at me with a mixture of curiosity and disdain, two words I’d be impressed if he knew.
“Be a minute,” he grunted at me.
I shrugged and took a seat. As if he knew the old man’s schedule anyway. Besides, I knew there was a pin-sized camera just above the door. When Sal was ready for me, his consigliere, Max, would come out and get me. Bruno would get the news same time I did.
The waiting area was quiet for a few moments except for the sound of Bruno’s labored breathing. Christ, I’d hate to hear what he sounded like after doing anything strenuous, like opening a door or reaching down to tie his shoes.
