Always Chasing 'Em: Short Mysteries

By N. L. Quatrano and D. K. Ludas

In this collection of short mystery stories, Ludas and Quatrano have selected some of their personal favorites as well as some award-winning short mysteries from years gone by. Some are PI stories, others are cop stories. ALL of them are people stories. Some of these were published but are no longer in print, and so, readers of D. K. Ludas and N. L. Quatrano will enjoy this glimpse into the authors' short story beginnings. The title comes from their love of the original X Files television series. Mulder and Scully were always chasing the aliens but Ludas and Quatrano's characters are always chasing the bad guys - and gals. These two are the authors of the Amazing Grace Trucking Company books, a southern women's inspirational fiction series published by Two Stone Lions Press. Their first book, MERCIFUL BLESSINGS, won the Royal Palm Literary Awards and was a finalist in the Indie Book Awards.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Twisted Hair Publications
• Release date: Jul 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9780999048948

Book preview

Dear Reader,

Thank so much for buying this collection and we hope you’ll enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed writing these stories.

When we first met, we were members of the NJ Romance Writers organization. It was around 1995, at a Mass in St. James the Less in Jamesburg, that we decided to go have a cup of coffee and get to know one another. A few hours later, we left that café as fast friends, a relationship that has grown stronger with every passing year.

We moved on to Sisters in Crime-Central Jersey where we found that our writing passion was in mystery, not romance – but you can’t completely take the happy ending out of us! Look for stories from us that have, we hope, satisfying endings if not happy ones. We learned about the power of relationships in NJRW; we learned the power of twists and ironies in Sisters in Crime.

Now, though we live 900 miles apart, we write an inspirational series together–and so many of you have waited so patiently for our next book in the series, that we thought you might enjoy this collection of some of our award-winning short stories. Most have been published elsewhere and are now out of print, but for some, this is a publishing debut!

Please let us know what you think–we’d love to hear from you. And we hope you’ll continue the journey with us and the Blessing clan as they solve not only the mysteries that life puts in their paths, but the mysteries that life and faith are, too.

Stay well and remember that you are loved, cherished, and wonderfully made! Don’t ever believe anything different.

Hugs to all,

Daria and Nancy

Table of Contents

N. L. Quatrano

Backroad Girl

Buckelew House

Cold as Ice

Sussex County Dragnet

Both authors

Boa in the Attic

D. K. Ludas

Jack of Diamonds

All Washed Up in Ocean Grove

Pillar of the Community

The Tell-Tale Skirt

Backroad Girl

N. L. Quatrano

SHE SAT CROSS-LEGGED on the side of the road, under the stop sign. When she saw my car, she jumped to her feet and waved frantically. I stopped, checked that the door was locked and lowered my window a little to talk to her. If my husband knew I was picking up strangers, he’d be so upset he’d never speak to me again. But hadn’t I just been praying for God to use me today?

Lady, I really need a ride home. I been here in this sun for an hour. I can’t walk any more. Could you take me home? Tears filled her eyes. Please, ma’am?

Maybe sixteen, legs badly scraped up as though she’d fallen–or been pushed around. Dirty feet, not bare as I first thought, but the Dollar Store flip flops were broken, offering poor protection to be walking along our hot, blacktopped back roads.

Are you okay, honey? You hurt?

No ma’am, I’m fine. She looked at her knees and back at me. I tripped when my shoe broke.

Where you living? I asked.

’Bout four miles from here. Down on Crotty.

I know some people who live on Crotty. You know the Johnson’s by any chance?

I know Michael, we used to go to school together. Before I had to drop out. You know Mr. Bill? she asked, her dark brown eyes hopeful.

Works at the General Store, right?

That’s him. He’s my grandpa. I live with him, but I gotta get home before he leaves for work. He’ll be worried.

She had no hat, purse, jacket, or cell phone. Pretty girl with a garish, faded purple scar on her face, beautiful auburn curls pulled back into a ponytail, and a pack of no-name cigarettes rolled up in the sleeve of her black tee shirt. JESUS LOVES ME in white letters adorned the front. Her faded denim shorts hung on her emaciated frame.

I looked at her hard. A kid, tired, scared and shouldn’t have been out in the back woods alone. Reminded me of my own daughter, about the same age. The one who never made it back home. I prayed that I wouldn’t regret my decision and unlocked the door.

Come on–I’ll give you a lift.

She climbed in with a hint of excitement.

Put your seat belt on, young lady.

Yes, ma’am, she said, clicking it. Seen the sign on your car. You’re a writer? I write poetry.

I listened for signs that she was cranked up— huffing or buzz, but her speech was urgent, not slurred or hyper.

Poetry is how I started my writing journey, I said. Still write some now and then. Don’t ever stop writing your poetry, okay? It’s important. God gives you that so you can heal yourself.

She nodded. I’m Rachel, by the way. Rachel Walker. I was at a friend’s, but they didn’t have enough gas to take me home. I gotta get home. She was upset, but not panicked. Graceful, short-nailed fingers rested on her slender thighs.

You go to school? I asked as we drove along.

Go to tech school, part-time. Gonna be eighteen in a couple of months. I’m in the culinary program and it’s cool. Had to drop out of high school when my grandma was sick, but I qualified for the part-time school after she died.

I’m sorry, honey. Must have been hard. When did she pass? I asked, the lump in my throat growing as we drove along.

Last year. She had diabetes real bad, no insurance. She was really sick, but you know, she never complained. That’s why I had to stay with her. After she came home from the hospital, she got some nursing care. Once she was stable, they stopped coming by. But Gram’s raised me. My mother lost custody of me ‘cause of her drinking, but she’s getting better, now. I might move in with her to help her out when I finish school.

My oldest daughter went to tech school. She and her husband met there. She’s a welder. Now they’ve got a baby boy, so she’s home with the little guy.

My pa was a welder, had to travel a lot. He’s in prison now, though.

What’s he in for? I asked, unsure why I’d ask the question when I probably didn’t want to know the answer.

He killed his father. Pops was molesting me when we lived with him. She looked at me, then out the window. He raped me for five years and done no time. My father got life. Don’t seem fair, does it? Her fingers traced the scar on her cheek.

"Which one of them gave you that memory?" I asked.

Pops. He was a mean drunk.

Your life being so hard doesn’t seem fair, honey. I’m glad your mom’s folks could take care of you and bring you through all this. I volunteer with the sheriff’s office and I know we’ve got way too many pedophiles living out here for you to be wandering around alone. Please don’t do it, okay?

We had about a mile to go on our journey. She looked at me. I’m gonna finish high school, you know. And I’m gonna get my license soon, too. I’m going to do something with my life. I can’t drive now ‘cause I was in a bad car accident. See?

She lifted her Jesus Loves Me tee shirt to expose a scar that started at her breastbone and continued well below the waistband of her jeans. It wasn’t that old of a scar, either. Much more recent than the one on her face.

Were you driving? I asked, stunned.

Nah, I got thrown out. Ruptured my pancreas, broke my pelvis and my femur. But I walk okay, just get tired real fast. That’s why I needed the ride.

We were coming up on Crotty. She pointed ahead to the street. That’s it, there, she said. I nodded.

You can just drop me at the corner of the first cross street.

I’ll take you home, honey. I want to make sure you’re okay.

She shook her head. Just leave me at the corner. I’ll walk back to the house. Gramps would be angry knowing I took a ride from a stranger.

I nodded and pulled over as instructed. He’s right. Remember what I said – it’s too dangerous for you to be walking around out here. Please don’t do it anymore. Stay home if you can’t get a ride both ways. And good luck in school.

Thanks a lot for the ride. You’re a nice lady.

She got out of the car and closed the door. With a wave in my direction, she turned and walked back the way we’d just driven. Before I turned right, I looked in the rearview mirror. She was gone.

ON THE WAY BACK FROM town, I drove home the long way on CR13. I stopped at the General Store, hoping I’d find Rachel’s grandfather. I wondered if I could help her reach some of those dreams, somehow. I parked and took a deep breath. I had no idea what I was going to say to him if he was there, but I needed a loaf of bread. Either way it wouldn’t be a wasted stop.

Bill was just coming out from behind the counter. He put some used paperbacks on the lender rack. Funny, I had never noticed it was named RACHEL’S CORNER.

Bill? How are you? I met your Rachel. She’s a very bright and lovely young lady.

He put the last book in the rack and turned to face me. She certainly was ma’am. Me and her grandma loved that girl with all our hearts.

I’m sorry? I glanced at the book rack, then back at him. Why do you say ‘was’?

He moved behind the counter to cash out a customer. I picked up a loaf of bread off the display and put it near the register. He rang me up and put it in a brown paper bag.

You met her today, didn’t you? he asked softly.

I felt the color drain out of my face.

It’s okay, he said, patting my hand gently. "She was killed in a car accident, four years ago today.