If you want to read real life detective fiction that’s thrilling and suspenseful then that’s our style in the Tom Stone Detective Stories. We don’t read the news and then write, but we’ve written our crime stories and then see the news breaking.
An example were the March 16, 2021 massage parlor shootings in Atlanta that were terrible and heartbreaking. It was similar to the short story Tom Stone: Massage and Murder, available on Amazon.
A 21-year-old man was arrested in southwest Georgia within hours after the killings.
According to an Associated Press report:
Five people were shot at Youngs Asian Massage Parlor in a strip mall near a rural area in Acworth, about 30 miles north of Atlanta, Cherokee County Sheriff’s Office spokesman Capt. Jay Baker said. Two people died at the scene and three were transported to a hospital where two of them also died, Baker said.
Police in the Buckhead neighborhood of Atlanta, responding to a call of a robbery in progress, found three women dead from apparent gunshot wounds at Gold Spa. While they were at that scene, they learned of a call reporting shots fired at another spa across the street, Aromatherapy Spa, and found a woman who appeared to have been shot dead inside the business.
Massage and Murder is different as Detective Tom Stone hunts for a woman who was employed at a massage studio in North Hollywood. A man is shot and Stone goes on the hunt for a masseuse who flees the scene. He finds her and has to make a decision about justice.
But first, he confronts the owner of a bar where the masseuse is believed to be.
I searched her eyes. Solid and cold. “Some guy was shot down the street at the Bangkok Massage Parlor, and now he’s fighting for his life at St. Joseph’s Hospital.”
“Like I said, I don’t know anything.”
I looked hard through the darkness and saw the silhouette of a woman move from the table and down a hallway at the back of the bar, disappearing from view.
“Maybe she does.” I called out to her. “Excuse me—”
I dashed around the pistol-packing hostess, banged my knee against a table, and headed toward the hallway, under a sign that read Restrooms. At the end of the hallway, there was a security door that led to a parking lot in the back, but I didn’t hear it open. On either side of me were two more doors: Guys, Gals. Both were shut.
Jasmine came up behind me without the gun in her hand.
“Choices. Which one?” I asked.
She glanced at the door marked Gals.
I tried the handle, but it was locked.
“Do you have a key?”
I knew it was a dumb question as soon as the words left my mouth. Jasmine knew it too, and rolled her eyes. But she didn’t answer.
“I don’t want to break the door down, and I already hurt my knee in there so would you ask her to come out?”
She gave it a thought.
“Help me out, will you?”
“Help you out?”
“Yes. And her, too. I just want to ask her a few questions. What’s her name?”
“Emily. And why does a tough cop like you need me to help you out? Go ahead. Bust in there and drag her out.”
I wasn’t desperate enough to break into a woman’s restroom. “That’s not what I’m here for, and you’re not being helpful.”
“You don’t want to arrest her?”
The question made me curious. “Why would you ask?”
“Isn’t that what cops do? Arrest people?”
“Only if we have to.” The closed door made me think I’d have to. Following up with witnesses and suspects was never easy.