Written by Stephen F. Moloney “THACKETT?!! THACKETT, WHERE ARE YOU?!!” An exasperated sigh escaped Ray’s lips as he heard Mr. Denby’s voice echoing around the lofty interior of the machinery workshop. “Back here!” answered Ray, wearily peeling the baseball cap off his head and tossing it into his battered, metal...
Written by Stephen F. Moloney “Oh, hold up a second.” For the third time since they’d started walking through the trees off to the left-hand side of the range, Ray came to a stop so that he could crouch down and pluck an old, dirt-covered range ball out from the...
Written by Stephen F. Moloney “At fixing cars?” repeated Ray, confused at hearing such a request. “Uh … I mean, I know a thing or two – depends on how serious a repair job we’re talkin’.” Again, from the conflicted expression on his face, Ray could tell the kid wasn’t...
Written by Stephen F. Moloney “Ok, thanks, Teddy – I owe you one … Alright, man, I’ll talk to you in a few weeks then … Ok – alright, bye … bye.” With Teddy having hung up on the other end of the line, Ray brought his cellphone down from...
Written by Stephen F. Moloney Having worked up more of a thirst then what she had realised from their trek back and forth from the LaFleur Cabin, and then inspecting the Mustang hidden beneath the workshed, Maggie drained her glass of orange juice in one grateful gulp. “You want some...
Written by Stephen F. Moloney Though he hadn’t noticed that Truman’s son was also in the cart as they approached the workshed, as soon as they came to a stop in front of them, Ray had immediately noticed the presence of the sole heir to the Ballas fortune sitting in...
Written by Stephen F. Moloney For the umpteenth time since walking onto the tightly mown surface of the green, Byron got down onto his haunches, leaned his putter up against his shoulder, and buried his head into the old, battered-looking greens book he’d only glanced at once or twice over...
Written by Stephen F. Moloney The tyres on Ray’s truck screeched as he brought it to a shuddering halt on the polished concrete driveway. He quickly switched off the engine, threw open his door, and exploded out into the stiflingly humid Florida air, eyes trained like a laser beam on...
Written by Stephen F. Moloney “Feelin’ better?” asked Ray, just before polishing off the final bite of his burger. “Well, I’m not hungry anymore,” said Mustang through a mouthful of fries. “But my legs are still pretty sore.” “Yeah, well that’s to be expected,” replied Ray, knowingly, after taking a...
Written by Stephen F. Moloney With Jeanie, Malcolm, and Tess following closely behind, Ray rushed through the door at the back of the kitchen and out into the small parking lot at the rear of the diner. “Damnit!” he swore after quickly looking to the spot where he’d parked his...
Written by Stephen F. Moloney The acrid smell of oil and engine grease stung Ray’s nostrils as he slipped in through the narrow opening between the two large, metal doors that fronted Teddy’s garage. That was the problem with living somewhere like Marais des Voleurs, thought Ray, as he crept...
Written by Stephen F. Moloney “They didn’t!” gasped Jeanie, sounding as shocked as Ray had when he first heard the news but endeavouring to keep her voice down so as not to be overheard by the other customers. “That’s what Tess told me,” replied Ray, looking across the diner counter...