Free Fiction Thursday – Omens and Oracles and Eros, Oh My

Happy Thursday, everyone!

You should know by now that I’m a big fan of The Big Bang Theory. A couple of years back when they introduced Amy Farrah Fowler as Sheldon’s girlfriend, I was skeptical. Sheldon Cooper with a girl? Sheldon was, as the characters themselves sometimes put it, a man of science, only unlike the other characters, he had absolutely no interest in girls.

Well, as it turns out, I think Amy was a great addition to the cast, as was Bernadette. The show is, at heart, a romantic comedy. Romantic comedies come complete with romantic entanglements of one version or another for their characters.  While Sheldon is still a man of science, now he has an equally odd woman of science to spend his time with, complete with relationship agreement.

All this talk about relationships leads me to this week’s free story, which finds Cupid, the God of Love, hiring our intrepid detectives Diz and Dee to find his missing daughter. I hope you enjoy “Omens and Oracles and Eros, Oh My.”

omens cover

Omens and Oracles and Eros, Oh My

Annie Reed

Copyright 2011 by Annie Reed

It’s not every day a Greek god walks through a girl’s front door.

My partner and I run a detective agency out of an old storefront half a mile from the ferry landing on the mainland side of Moretown Bay.  The neighborhood is rundown urban with a touch of whimsical eclectic.  The shop next door sells everything Asian, from manga to anime to imported CD soundtracks side by side with things like shrimp chips and lichee jellies.  The masseuse across the street has her front door decorated with purple glitter and glow in the dark stars.  Every time one of her customers opens that door, enough aromatherapy candle smoke escapes to engulf the neighborhood in a cloud of calm.  Or passion.  I’m pretty sure on those days she provides more than a simple massage.  I don’t intend to find out.  She seems like a nice enough woman, but I’m not that starved for affection.  Not yet.

I didn’t recognize the guy who walked in my office like he owned the place, not right away, anyway.  Who’d have thought you’d find a god wandering around a neighborhood like this?  The sidewalk in front of our office looks like concrete accordion pleats, and I’m pretty sure a family of four is living in the panel van permanently parked at the back of the municipal lot at the end of the block.

Plus, the guy wasn’t dressed in a diaper and carting a bow and arrows. Even a detective needs at least a couple clues.

“You find lost people?” he asked, his tone more than a little upper crust.

“We do.”  I resisted the urge to look at the plate glass window at the front of the office.  The name on that window was D & D Investigations, and underneath:  Missing Persons Are Our Specialty.

I’m Dee, one half of D & D.  Diz, short for Dizzy G, is the other half.  Diz is an elf.  I’m not.  I get along with most people.  He glowers.  He’s also built like The Rock, and that makes him more than a little intimidating.  Which is why I’m the one who meets with potential clients.  If I let Diz do the meet and greet, we’d both be begging the police department for our old jobs back.

“I need you to find someone,” the guy said.

I smiled my most competent, professional detective smile.  “Have a seat.”

(read the rest of the story here)

Free Fiction – The New Year that Almost Wasn’t

Welcome to the special holiday edition of Free Fiction Thurs… er, Saturday. *g*

Thanks to the fine folks at Thunder Valley Press, who’ve been more than patient with me while I’ve been crunching this deadline, I’m happy to announce a brand new Diz & Dee holiday mystery, “The New Year that Almost Wasn’t.”  This time around, Diz and Dee are hired on Christmas Eve to find the missing and very pregnant mother of the next Baby New Year.

“The New Year that Almost Wasn’t” will be free to read throughout the holidays.  I hope you enjoy it!  Merry Christmas, everyone.

baby new year cover ebook small

 

The New Year That Almost Wasn’t

 Annie Reed

Published by Thunder Valley Press

© Copyright 2012 Annie Reed

Cover Art © Nadezda Postolit | Dreamstime.com

 

The last person I expected to see walk through my office door on Christmas Eve was one of Santa’s elves.

Merry was all of three foot nothing tall.  She had green eyes and a cute button nose, and her brown curls had grown out since the last time I’d seen her.  When we first met, I hadn’t realized she was a girl, but there was no mistaking her for a boy this time around.  In my defense, back then she’d worn one of the unisex tunics like the rest of the elves wore.  Today she was dressed in a sleeveless red frock and a red Santa hat, and she had cute little gold earrings in her ears.

Merry had been one of a group of elves from the North Pole who’d hired D & D Investigations to find Santa’s missing stand-in, Norman. I’m Dee, the human half of D & D Investigations.  My partner Diz, the other D in D & D, was out buying a Christmas present for my cat. Diz and I had agreed not to buy presents for each other this year since the agency was barely staying afloat, and besides, I had no idea what to get a grumpy elf who had everything and always refused to give me a wish list.

“You’ve got to help me,” Merry said in her high-pitched, helium-addict voice. “I’m in big-time trouble.”

“Don’t tell me Norman’s missing again,” I said. We’d found Norman easily enough the last time.  Finding missing persons was, after all, our specialty, like it said on the sign on our office window, but I had a feeling that if Santa’s stand-in had decided to take a powder – again – he’d  make himself really scarce this time.

“No.” Merry’s mouth turned down in a sad little pout. “Baby New Year’s mother.”

Baby who’s what?

(read the rest of the story here)

Free Fiction Thursday – The Case of the Missing Elf

Happy Thursday, everyone!

I feel like asking how Christmas shopping is going, but I’m afraid you’ll all throw things at me. That’s kinda what I felt like doing the other night when a perky local newscaster asked, since there were only 22 days until Christmas, if we were all stressed yet.

This week’s story features a group of stressed-out elves who’ve lost Santa’s stand in right before Christmas. Who do you call when you’ve got a missing person? Private detectives Diz and Dee, of course. Enjoy “The Case of the Missing Elf.”

missingelf_2 bright

THE CASE OF THE MISSING ELF

Annie Reed

Copyright © 2010 Annie Reed

Published by Thunder Valley Press

I was having a non-argument argument with my partner about whether we should get a Christmas tree for the office when the front door opened and a whole passel of elves piled in.

Up front, I should tell you that my partner is an elf.  A tall one.  Broad-shouldered, pointy-eared, strong-jawed, and with the most drop dead gorgeous blue eyes I’ve ever seen.  You might be thinking Legolas from those movies, but Diz is more The Rock than Orlando Bloom.  He even has The Rock’s glower.  The cinnamon and marshmallow-colored mullet, though—that’s all Diz’s own.

Yeah, I know.  A mullet.  But considering how great the rest of him looks, who am I to complain?

Together, Diz and I run a private detective agency called D & D Investigations out of a former bakery in a rundown neighborhood on the mainland side of Moretown Bay.  I’m Dee, the other D in D & D.  I’m not an elf.  Or a dwarf.  Or a fairy, or any one of a hundred other kinds of magic folk who call the area around the Bay home.  I’m a plain old vanilla human with curly brown hair that tends to frizz when it’s humid, which is just about all the time.  I also have a touch of precognition I’ve yet to learn how to control any better than my hair.

“You find missing people?” the nearest elf in the pack said.

I looked down at him.  Unlike Diz, who’s a good foot taller than my medium height, these elves were all way shorter than I am.  I counted seven of the mini elves.  They all wore variations of the same outfit: forest-green pants, red-and-green shirts that were more tunic than shirt, and red, green, or white scarves.  The elf who asked me whether we find missing people had curly salt and pepper hair peeking out from beneath a red knit hat with a white pom-pom on top.  They made the office look like a seasonal munchkin convention.

“Uh, yeah,” I said.  I resisted the urge to point to the lettering beneath the agency name on the plate glass window of our office—Missing Persons Are Our Specialty.  We’d paid extra for that, but no one ever seemed to read it.

The elf behind the guy with the red knit hat elbowed him.  “I don’t care what you say, this can’t be the right place,” he said in a stage whisper I could hear fine even though his voice sounded like he’d just taken a hit of helium.  “Just look at it.”

(read the rest of the story here)