The Letter by Katherine Anderson

I stood at the mailbox, the metal flap hanging open on rusting hinges, and shuffled through the mail. There was the usual, bills and such, a menu from a restaurant I had no intention of trying, and a boating magazine that I hadn’t had the heart to cancel after Arthur passed. I folded the magazine around the rest of it and closed the mailbox as a small, stiff square fluttered to the ground. I looked around, up and down the street to see if there was anyone who had seen it fall, anyone who might see me bend down to retrieve it but there was no one.

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A Rose is a Rose is a Clue Unless its a Red Herring by Phillip T Stephens 

“When I saw the bouquet of 7 roses, I knew exactly who had murdered Mrs. O’Connell.” Bob kneeled next to the octogenarian’s body and jotted notes into his spiral bound pocket book with his Bic pen. One of the Bic pens he ordered 50 at a time from Amazon because (he swears), the other detectives steal them.

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The Rose Slayer by Stephen Bentley

Six murders. Two detectives. More than four million LA residents. “That’s a hell of a lot of suspects,” Bill Pawson said. His partner, Sean Wells shrugged.

Pawson and Wells, Detectives First Class of LAPD Robbery Homicide Squad, had been working this homicide case for the past three years. It was cases rather than a case. It was clear to them, their Captain, the Chief of Detectives, the media, and the public there was a serial killer at large in Los Angeles. What wasn’t clear was the identity of the killer. The cops had no clue as to who it was or why.

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The Seven Roses by Jasmine Lowe

Mrs. O’Connell wore her large twisted snaggle tooth that hung prominently in the front of her rather large gaping mouth proudly. She didn’t mind the fact that everyone stared at the tooth which looked as though it was attempting to rip its own self out of the mouth that was constantly flapping open during the constant conversation. To say Mrs. O’Connell talked a lot was an understatement.

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The Winning Loser by Joan S Peck

I became captivated the first time I saw her step out of the limo, one long, curved leg at a time. I smiled at the way she tilted her head to acknowledge the chauffeur who stood by as she reluctantly reached for his hand to help her out. As she stood tall, she was striking with long blond hair that she’d pulled back into a simple bun, low on her neck.

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Grandma's Cookies by Renee Marksi

I rubbed my temples slowly, trying to concentrate on the screen in front of me. I had to finish this paper by midnight so I could submit it for my ethics class. With 1000 words left to write, I was not seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. My daughter's laughter drifted in through my closed office door. Thank goodness my mother was able to come over three days a week to help with her so I could get my schoolwork done. That woman was my saving grace.

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Three Sisters, Santa & A Billboard by Laura Smith

In hindsight, it would have been smart to belt Santa into the passenger’s seat before heading home. In all actuality, it would have been smarter not to have contacted the CraigsList poster about buying Santa at all. This was Chrissy and her last minute plan to win the neighborhood decorating contest and surprise her sons at the same time. It was also Emily and her idea to drive with Shannon’s convertible top down and stick one of Santa’s arms out the window so that everyone would notice him driving by.

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'Tis the Season by James W George

The Christmas music emanating from the elegant viola was breathtaking. Of that, there could be no doubt.

It was a frosty morning and the second Sunday of December, but the local United Methodist Church was warm and inviting. The sanctuary was decorated, as usual, in a festive but tasteful manner. Attendance was indeed impressive, and every worshipper was absolutely enthralled by the beautiful music.

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