Jenna Mckee downshifted her green ‘75 Beetle attempting to gain better control on the icy road. The rear slipped and, for an instant, fence posts were brought to false daylight before returning to night’s embrace.      “Damned bastard.”

Felix had solved the mystery, which would satisfy the legate’s orders. He knew the thief’s opportunity, means, and even had a witness. But, not the motive, and he was a curious man. As he pushed his nervous horse alongside the column of legionnaires, the first rain of a promised storm began to fall. The dark…

By: Wade Newhouse The Mott-Wilson Funeral Home was on the block behind the Sheltonville Little Theatre—to get from one to the other you just had to go around the corner, and on busy days they both used the empty lot across from the railroad tracks for overflow parking.  Clark Picone purposely parked on Franklin Street…