• Revenge by Matthew C. Funk

    Bobo Trufant walked out of our precinct humming Abba’s “Mama Mia” after he’d fed the children he’d stolen to alligators. We all knew it, though the DA thought the presence of Bobo’s showtunes posters in the kiddie porn photos we found online to be circumstantial. We just didn’t know what to do about it. The […]

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  • The Best Medicine by Matthew C. Funk

    I realized, turning the corner and finding the boys laughing around the fire barrel, that I disliked most species of laughter. Surprise laughter startles me. Bitter laughter tires me. Sincere laughter makes me feel left out. I got close enough without the boys noticing me to see that they weren’t burning trash in that barrel. […]

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  • Sick Days by Matthew C. Funk

    Riding along with Homicide Detective Hendricks to take crowd photos for Narco, he starts sneezing before we even reach the first dead body. Great, gawping, “Thar She Blows” sneezes. I scoot closer. To the next scene, outside a grade school, I make sure to look at him when he sneezes. Leaning nearer to his reddened […]

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  • Love is Blind by Matthew C. Funk

    Dwayne looks very at peace for a seventeen-year-old cuffed to a table, a murder charge being written up against him by an assistant DA in the next room over. I take my boots off the table and decide to bother him. “Why’d you kill Dukey, Dwayne?” Dwayne goes on practicing his eye fucking. He’ll need […]

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  • Amphibian by Matthew C. Funk

    Toad’s eyes were as dark and blank as the six bullet holes behind him, looking way over my shoulder while we talked about who just shot his friend in the stomach. “Shit, Detective Jurgis, I was ducking; I can’t say for sure,” he said, flipping his hands into a shrug. “Probably them Grub bangers. You […]

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  • Deadly Weapon by Matthew C. Funk

    I’m cruising, drinking an Orange Julius-with-egg, thinking of My Little Pony, when the Crown Vic’s hood buckles like a boulder hit it. Engine shrieks. Cruiser bangs dead. Steam shoots straight up through the NOPD crescent. I can’t hear any of that. Just noise like God chiseling inside my skull. Two weeks into patrol, and I’ve […]

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  • Stolen Homes by Matthew C. Funk

    “You better arrest him right now for stealing my house, Detective Jurgis.” Cap Warner’s arthritic fingers knotted around the pistol pointed at Boost McClaine, “Or I’ll shoot him dead here myself.” This wasn’t like Cap. People had been acting unlike themselves a lot in the year since the Storm. I took in the situation I’d […]

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  • Not Up to Code by Matthew C. Funk

    When Fifth District Homicide popped Dobie Stallworth on murder one, we just about threw a party. Cherise, our superstar receptionist, hung a crepe string of purple, gold, green crowns above Andsell’s desk. I slipped a fresh bottle of Wild Turkey into his drawer to keep the half-empty one company. Lots of Kenny Loggins was played […]

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  • Part-Time Hero by Matthew C. Funk

    I sat Raymond down behind the Bywater hospital dumpsters, out of sight of the street, and asked him about the black eye. He looked at the grease stains on them, not at my badge or scowl. He gave me the dirt. Dirty 30 had rolled up on his auto body shop. Told him it was […]

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  • Snitch Ticket by Matthew C. Funk

    Kimmie C loved what she did. A glance at me rolling up in the cruiser and she’d strike a pose straight out of Scarface: Deep Pacino scowl sinking the beauty mark on her cheek. Chest shoved out behind crossed arms. Standing tall on her corner, towering over the gym-heads and ex-linebackers in her crew, Kimmie […]

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  • Day of Rest by Matthew C. Funk

    I heard Lou Murray beat his girlfriend blind on Thursday and I spent the next three days not sleeping, not showering, just driving the unlit streets. I saw Lou on Sunday morning buying a case of Miller Lite and some franks for the Saints game. I got him to my car by flashing my badge. […]

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  • Death Poses by Matthew C Funk

    Frankie Lewis wasn’t the strangest corpse I’d ever seen. Only in the top 10. Frankie lay curled fetal on his den floor. Eyes bugged. Mouth smiling. Fingers screening his face and two holes through his chest you could house a Chihuahua in. “Something’s wrong with this picture,” Homicide Detective Andsell said, frowning on Frankie with […]

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