Cafe Midnight

By Silver James

A burned-out homicide cop. A mysterious diner. A dead body. What could possibly go wrong?

When that cop is Joe McGwire? Everything. Back on duty after a shootout where his partner died, Joe and his best friend, Insomnia, hit the streets. Drawn to a diner called Cafe Midnight, Joe walks into trouble.

Welcome to Cafe Midnight, where the coffee's hot, you can still smoke, the payphone costs a nickel, and famous detectives hang out looking for a case.

This short story is a fond homage to film noir and the detective novels of the last century. It's a tongue-in-cheek tale about a hard-driven homicide detective and the denizens of the dark he meets while investigating his latest murder.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Silver James
• Release date: Aug 12, 2013
• ISBN: 9798201629113

Silver James

Silver James likes walks on the wild side and coffee. Okay. She LOVES coffee. Warning: Her Muse, Iffy, runs with scissors. A cowgirl at heart, she’s also been an Army officer’s wife and mom, and has worked in the legal field, fire service, and law enforcement. Now retired from the real world, she lives in Oklahoma and spends her days writing with the assistance of her two Newfoundland dogs, the cat who rules them all, and the myriad characters living in her imagination.

Book preview

Café Midnight

By

Silver James

Café Midnight is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organization, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity nd are used fictitiously. All other characters and their names, all incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. 

Café Midnight

COPYRIGHT ©2013 by Silver James

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under the copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the author is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights are appreciated.

Contact: [e-mail]

Cover design by Clary Carey, [e-mail]

Images: Dreamstime.com Police crime scene with yellow boundary tape © Saniphoto

Bigstockphoto.com Black Finger Prints © pkruger

Edited by Alan Gregory

Published in the United States of America

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Table of Contents

DEDICATION

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

TITLES BY SILVER JAMES

DEDICATION

To Sam Spade, Sherlock Holmes, Dr. Watson, Miss Marple, Hercule Poirot Charlie Chan and all the other great detectives. A tip of the fedora to the amazing writers who breathed life into these sleuths and crafted such twisty mysteries for them to solve. This is for all the fans of detective noir who might want to dip their toes into a hint of the supernatural.

Or was it all in Joe’s head?

CHAPTER 1

THE FROWSY blonde took a long drag on her unfiltered cigarette. How’s my favorite copper? she asked, blue smoke wrapping around her words.

Joe McGwire stared at her. He’d never been in this joint before. He’d been driving down the street, chasing sleep that eluded him like a felon with an active warrant. The glowing neon sign drew him in. But how could she know he was a cop? He was in plain clothes, badge and weapon both out of sight. He studied her face, his gaze lingering on her eyes. This was a woman who really had seen it all.

Fine, ma’am, he finally answered.

Jewel, she said, pointing to the name tag pinned to her rumpled Pepto-pink uniform.

The blonde poured him a cup of coffee and slid a pitcher of cream and a sugar shaker his way. She sauntered into the back and Joe could hear snatches of muffled conversation.

Thank you, young man, a cultured, feminine voice whispered at his elbow. Startled, Joe turned to his left. A demure woman in her seventies, wearing a cloche hat