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THE ENCHANTING LIFE OF FLANNIGAN BIXBY

It was only slightly raining when Timothy Dinwiddle began his usual walk to the train station but still he wished he hadn’t forgotten his red umbrella with the purple dots. The umbrella was a present from his ever-traveling sister, Bertrice, a purple-spotted souvenir from her August trip to Vienna, where she was paid exactly $256 American dollars (“and not one …

A DATE NEAR DOWNING STREET

The taxi door fluttered open, a bright flap of yellow against the sluggish October wind. One last look to the driver with graying teeth and gangly, corn-husk hair and Daniel Plinkers peeled himself out of the car. (This after sitting for twenty seven minutes in downtown traffic as the taxi meter skipped along and his elbow ached from not one but two …

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IN THE LAND OF WORROMOT

To the one who knows it all, I salute you. I admire you. I’m even jealous of you. (Don’t tell.) You should know that I used to be one of you. I used to understand the deepest threads of philosophy and the longest ribbons of words a voice can speak. Now my sister, born yesterday under skies blue enough, joins …

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FREDDIE RUSTLER AND THE MAGICAL MEAL

Here’s something you might not know: If you’re meeting a magician for breakfast, you must never order soup. The act is very much like using an umbrella to kayak stormy waters or dressing in clown costume to mow an unsightly lawn. It is simply not done. Some say the soup rule originated with Binkler Jaminoo, a famous slight-of-hand master burned …

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THE CASE OF THE MISSING VEUVIAN COLPETTA [Part Three]

Another white wine, chilled so her fingers ran down the glass to clear away a light layer of frost. How he knew – when she didn’t say – that she only drank Sauvignon Blanc could’ve been a mystery worthy of Premier Private Detective investigation but something about a missing painting or a dangerous message or a knife made for cutting flesh and not cheese, …

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THE CASE OF THE MISSING VEUVIAN COLPETTA [Part Two]

“Perceptions are like waves. They ebb and flow with the moon.” This was one of the many strange things Mr. Dupoil told Miriam while they waited for Sandoval Jorgi to return home. He also told her, “Men who wear gloves shouldn’t be trusted.” And, “Never eat refrigerated cheese.” They had knocked on Mr. Jorgi’s apartment door every hour on the …

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THE CASE OF THE MISSING VEUVIAN COLPETTA [Part One]

Miriam Baxter lived life on the periphery, or so she told anyone who might ask. Really, she lived at 55 Snowflake Drive in a skinny building wedged between tall pines and a railway, and made from ten little apartments neatly stuffed inside a dark brick frame. With prim type – Didot italic for those who know their lettering – the …