Written by Stephen F. Moloney “And if you need anything – and I mean anything – you call me, alright?” insisted Tess, as she continued to squeeze Mustang in a big bear hug. “I mean it, day or night.” “I will …” replied Mustang, using what little oxygen remained in...
Written by Stephen F. Moloney “And you’re sure she said it was down this way?” asked Travis, skeptically, raising his voice enough to be heard over the whine of the golf cart’s electric motor as he tightened his grip on the handle set into the roof above where he was...
Written by Stephen F. Moloney “Ah! There you are …” said Ray, sounding a touch irritated at the momentary panic he’d inflicted upon himself with the thought he’d lost it. “I knew I’d put you in here.” With that, he pulled out the key he’d gone rummaging for through the...
Written by Stephen F. Moloney Ray woke with a start. Having been enjoying a surprisingly deep sleep, to now suddenly find himself awake left him, momentarily, lost as to where exactly he was. Through blinking, narrowed eyes that were just begging him to close them again and go back to...
Written by Stephen F. Moloney Ray navigated the Mustang towards the end of the dirt track he’d been following since turning off the main road five minutes previously and brought it to a stop. He turned the key in the ignition, causing the quietly purring engine to fall silent, and...
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...
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 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 “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 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 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 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...