Stealth Bloggers

By Kristine Kathryn Rusch

After the murder of an antisocial regular at a neighborhood coffeeshop, Portland homicide detective Addy Shaefer catches the case. The victim proves as obnoxious online as he did in person, leaving plenty of motive but few suspects. Until Addy enlists the help of the department's computer expert. Together, they might just stand a chance of catching a killer.

"Kristine Kathryn Rusch's crime stories are exceptional, both in plot and in style."

—Mystery Scene Magazine

• Language: English
• Publisher: WMG Publishing
• Release date: Jan 18, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224425181

Kristine Kathryn Rusch

USA Today bestselling author Kristine Kathryn Rusch writes in almost every genre. Generally, she uses her real name (Rusch) for most of her writing. Under that name, she publishes bestselling science fiction and fantasy, award-winning mysteries, acclaimed mainstream fiction, controversial nonfiction, and the occasional romance. Her novels have made bestseller lists around the world and her short fiction has appeared in eighteen best of the year collections. She has won more than twenty-five awards for her fiction, including the Hugo, Le Prix Imaginales, the Asimov’s Readers Choice award, and the Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine Readers Choice Award. Publications from The Chicago Tribune to Booklist have included her Kris Nelscott mystery novels in their top-ten-best mystery novels of the year. The Nelscott books have received nominations for almost every award in the mystery field, including the best novel Edgar Award, and the Shamus Award. She writes goofy romance novels as award-winner Kristine Grayson, romantic suspense as Kristine Dexter, and futuristic sf as Kris DeLake.  She also edits. Beginning with work at the innovative publishing company, Pulphouse, followed by her award-winning tenure at The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, she took fifteen years off before returning to editing with the original anthology series Fiction River, published by WMG Publishing. She acts as series editor with her husband, writer Dean Wesley Smith, and edits at least two anthologies in the series per year on her own. To keep up with everything she does, go to kriswrites.com and sign up for her newsletter. To track her many pen names and series, see their individual websites (krisnelscott.com, kristinegrayson.com, krisdelake.com, retrievalartist.com, divingintothewreck.com). She lives and occasionally sleeps in Oregon.

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Stealth Bloggers

Stealth Bloggers

Kristine Kathryn Rusch

WMG Publishing, Inc.

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About the Author

Stealth Bloggers

Detective Addy Schaefer stood two tables away from the body, watching the coroner work the scene. The uniforms had already cleared the coffee shop. Half-full mugs sat on tables, along with two unfinished muffins. Pyka’s Coffee looked a little like the ghost ship, the Marie Celeste.

The deceased, whom the staff only knew as the Afternoon Asshole (apparently to distinguish him from customers known as the Morning Asshole and the Evening Asshole), loved his table in the back corner. He and his laptop lived there from 1:30 until 4:30, Monday through Friday, as if he were reporting in for work.

During that time, he drank at least six specialty coffee beverages, always complaining that they weren’t made exactly right.

The deceased’s name was Phinian Kep Keplinger. He was thirty years old, with an address at the very edge of the trendy Pearl District. Every building there had gone condo in the last eight years, so he owned some pretty upscale property—not that it mattered much to him anymore.

The laptop was a victim too. Someone had poured an entire cup of cappuccino on the keys, frying the motherboard. The air still had a faint scent of burned electronics. It also smelled of coffee and chocolate.

Underlying that, however, was an even more unpleasant smell. Urine. The odor was stronger than it normally was at a murder scene.

So when the coroner, Dave Nadel, finally stood up and indicated to his assistant to bag and tag the corpse, Addy asked, Did all that extra coffee he drank make a bigger mess than usual?

Dave shook his head. I thought so at first. Then I realized his clothes were wet. Someone peed on him.

Addy raised her eyebrows. None of the witnesses had mentioned that. Surely someone would have seen it. But then, someone should have seen the murder, and no one had seen that either.

Look at the bright side, Dave said. At least we got DNA.

Then he closed his kit and headed out of the building.

DNA was a start. But Oregon’s crime lab was backed up nearly a year on cases. If Addy wanted to solve this one, she was on her own.

Rufus Fardal sat in front of the two-year-old PC, wishing for the days when his computer did exactly what he wanted it to. At some point the Police Bureau would have to honor his request for a state-of-the-art machine or their computer crimes unit would be a laughingstock.

Had he known how awful the unit was, he would have laughed at it, eighteen months ago.

When he had a real job.

One that actually paid commensurate with his skills.

Which were phenomenal, even by computer geek standards. Everyone said so. Since the crash, he had been offered jobs all over the world.

All of them paid much better than this job did, but this was the only job available to him in Portland. And once he moved to this city, he realized it was folly to leave.

His office in the back corner had a view of the Willamette River. On clear days, the Cascade mountains came out.

Portland was green and gray and blue, as beautiful as a woman