Sublime

“McAnnis, is it? Adam McAnnis?” As if committing the name to memory, to be written down later, inside a matchbook, or on the back of an OTB ticket, and slipped into the gloved palm of a man who will take care of it…

North of Mackay lay the principality of Childs Frick, son of Henry Clay Frick, baron of coal and coke, who had gained his legendary wealth during the Panic of 1873 by purchasing for a pittance the land of desperate farmers without telling them that it contained coal, the raw material of the coke essential to steelmaking, then by crushing other riva

He fired. Boom. Kelley died in a gigantic pool of blood just off of First Street. This incident—along with many others more or less like it—titillated local newspaper readers for weeks. Oklahoma City police officer Joe Burnett was now the killer of the killer of the killer of Jesse James.

As his collar indicated, 10 was indeed dead. He had been shot by a local man named Chad McKittrick, who, after being arrested and charged with a federal offense for shooting an endangered animal, claimed he had thought he was shooting a feral dog. It wasn’t the perfect crime; a friend of McKittrick’s had disposed of 10’s collar in a culvert filled

Roy and the old couple, Harvey and Rita, were the only ones left. They brought Roy to New York when he was barely twenty-five and set him up running “errands” now and again for some heavy people in Brooklyn. As a rule, they didn’t trust him with anything too complicated, on account of they didn’t think Roy was all that bright. Outside of Albert, no