Welcome to the world of urban police legend and lore. Homicidal Humor offers a glimpse of life through the eyes of a homicide detective, whose ability to see the funnier side of tragedy has helped keep him sane. These fictional short stories, inspired by real cops and real cases, are set in areas along the Texas Gulf Coast and include historical facts and interesting tidbits about the city of Houston and its police department. All individuals, as well as locations alluded to, are fictitious. You might say the names have been changed to protect the imbeciles. Note: This book contains adult language. From the Author: "As a rookie cop I learned that idiots were put on this earth for our entertainment. I was taught not to take personally those things that street animals said or did. You must actively seek out humor, because if you internalize what you see, it will eat you alive. In this book I have attempted to expose both the humor and the reality I observed as the unwashed wallowed in the mud, the blood, and the beer." What fans are saying about More Homicidal Humor: "Being a trained investigator, I've determined the author of this book is the real deal. His stories, while generally humorous, reveal a side of the criminal element that the media rarely thinks you need to see. It's a reminder of why you should keep a sense of humor, and also own a gun. Jesse Jackson probably won't buy a copy of this book, but you ought to." --Sheriff Jim Wilson, Handgun Editor, Shooting Times "It's like having an old Irish cop tell you 'Now, Lad, let me tell you what really happened out there.'" --Sergeant Brent Boren, Houston P.D. (ret) "Welcome to the real world. Pure fiction based on nothing but the facts. Things Mom never told you about." --Sergeant R. L. Pagel, Houston P.D. Westside Command From More Homicidal Humor: Poor Grandma This scene took place in a cemetery. It was a clear, hot and dry-blast furnace kind of central Texas mid-summer day. It was almost noontime. The flag-draped coffin was still above ground and the preacher was coming to the end of his graveside service. He was going through the Dust to dust, ashes to ashes routine that everybody and their dog knows was wrapping up the show. The dead man was a decorated military veteran. The immediate family sat upon folding chairs and they had been seated under a canvas awning set up for shade. The dead man's aged sister sat on the front row at the far end. Beside her sat a rather angelic looking little girl about seven to eight years old. The child was holding a purse in her lap and wearing ruffled white socks and black Mary Jane shoes. At the end of the ceremony a group of men from the local VFW chapter moved forward and gave the 21-gun salute. At this point the old woman became overcome by either the heat, emotion, grief or a combination of all three. She fainted dead away and passed out-slumping onto the ground. For a moment nobody moved and there was complete silence. Then the angelic-looking little girl sitting next to her blurted out, "God Damn-they done shot Grandma!" Uncle Bob sure as hell would have approved and could not have orchestrated it any better himself.

He drove. The road was lined with fireworks stands, put together with plywood and scrap lumber, with hinged wooden shut-downs over counters packed high with brightly wrapped pyrotechnics from China. Hand lettered signs identified each stand. They seemed to be family enterprises. We later learned that the teen-aged son of each family was obliged to sleep in the shuttered stand with a .357 magnum tucked under his pillow to protect the investment from vandals and thieves. According to law, the fireworks purchased on the reservation must be set off on the reservation, but of course mainlanders came over and filled up their trunks, turning their own quiet neighborhoods into war zones, terrifying the family pets and invariably blowing off some of the little digits of their own children. Don’t get me started on fireworks. More distractions for the dumb. Fireworks have killed and maimed more people than marijuana, which to date hovers around zero, but one is legal and encouraged, the other one can get you hard time. Don’t get me started. There is no new consciousness born, and no consciousness is ever destroyed. All consciousness resurfaces somehow. That's why we continue to go from life to life, all of us, the same beings, from the limitless beginning of time... every sentient being has been your mother." Rimpoche Nawang Gehlek

The reluctant hero from Alien Invasion and Other Inconveniences is back in all his droll glory — and this time the fate of humankind is on the line. Jesse has had the worst year of his life. First a race of homicidal (but very polite) aliens invaded Earth, killing pretty much everyone and enslaving the few people left behind, including Jesse; his best friend, Michael; his sort-of girlfriend, Lauren; and the girl of his dreams, Catlin. Now Jesse is revered as some sort of Chosen One all because he managed to kill one of the alien lords and escape — even though he’s not really sure how he did it. But it’s hard to argue with the multitude of new talents he is developing, including (somehow) killing aliens with his mind and grasping glimpses of alternate futures. With thousands of aliens already on Earth and thirty million more about to arrive, Jesse has to decide whether to embrace his maybe-destiny before the world is completely destroyed. No pressure.

Winner of the 2018 Anthony Award for Best First Novel Winner of the 2017 Agatha Award for Best First Novel Also a Lefty Award Winner and a Barry Award-Nominated Title The Surprise Hit of the Season! Actress Dayna Anderson's Deadly New Role: Homicide Detective Dayna Anderson doesn't set out to solve a murder. All the semifamous, mega-broke actress wants is to help her parents keep their house. So after witnessing a deadly hit-and-run, she pursues the fifteen grand reward. But Dayna soon finds herself doing a full-on investigation, wanting more than just money—she wants justice for the victim. She chases down leads at paparazzi hot spots, celeb homes, and movie premieres, loving every second of it—until someone tries to kill her. And there are no second takes in real life. Praise: "[A] winning first novel and series launch...Garrett writes with humor and insight about the Hollywood scene. Readers will look forward to Day's further adventures."—Publishers Weekly (starred review) "A smart, sassy debut, introducing an appealing protagonist with amusing friends."—Library Journal (starred review) and Debut of the Month "Veteran TV writer Garrett uses her Cold Case experience to inform her debut, which sets up more than one charming character and isn't afraid to go cynical on all things LA."—Kirkus Reviews "Funny, lively characters populate this new Detective by Day series...this will be an entertaining entry into the amateur sleuth genre."—RT Book Reviews "Fun, smart, endearingly flawed, and impressively determined, Dayna Anderson is a heroine readers will fall in love with...I relished every unexpected twist and turn of this highly entertaining mystery!"—Kyra Davis, New York Times bestselling author

Welcome to the world of urban police legend and lore. Homicidal Humor offers a glimpse of life through the eyes of a homicide detective, whose ability to see the funnier side of tragedy has helped keep him sane. These fictional short stories, inspired by real cops and real cases, are set in areas along the Texas Gulf Coast and include historical facts and interesting tidbits about the city of Houston and its police department. All individuals, as well as locations alluded to, are fictitious. You might say the names have been changed to protect the imbeciles. (Note: This book contains adult language and some police scenarios that would be rated at least PG-13.) Street life, history and blarney mixed with gunpowder and cold steel A behind-the-scenes introduction into a world I hope you never see up close. This book contains stories of killers, con men, street cops and detectives, covering the days of Bonnie and Clyde to the present. What readers are saying about The Clot Thickens: "As a rookie detective, Brian was my first partner. He once told me that we were just human trash collectors. 'We pick trash up off the streets. The courts process them and the prison system recycles them.'" -- Sgt. W. L. Andrews, Houston Police Department (Ret.) "These stories come across like they are being told across a kitchen table. This is the knife and gun club that I know all too well." -- Dr. Robert Jordan (Medical Examiner's Office), Las Vegas, Nevada "This book gives me flashbacks. Reading the stories you cannot only envision the beer joint, but you can almost smell the tobacco smoke, the stale beer and the blood." -- Officer Harry Womack, Houston Police Department (Retired C.S.U.) From The Clot Thickens: I was called to take photos at a traffic fatality scene. It was a Sunday afternoon major auto/motorcycle wreck and traffic was backed up into next week. A nineteen- to twenty-year old on a crotch rocket motorcycle plowed into some innocent Sunday driver, ruining his day and ending the life of the cyclist. I parked behind two women who were also headed to the death scene. I did not know it at first but they were professional mourners. Both women were corn-fed and chipmunk-cheeked lovelies. Either one of them would have field dressed at 250 pounds on any given day. The ladies in question stepped from their car and each slung a rather large purse over her forearm. They both wore wide brimmed straw hats and waddled toward the wreck site as they visited and adjusted their panty girdles. As they conversed politely among themselves I walked about fifty feet behind them. They walked a full block and a half until they got about fifty feet from the wreck site. You could make out a motorcycle wedged under the side of a 10-year old Buick. A sheet was draped over what was ob-viously a body that was awaiting the medical examiner's office to arrive. It was at this point that both women stopped and threw their arms in the air. The first bellowed, "Oh Laud Sista, das June Bug layin' in duh street. Laud have mercy!" The second followed up with, "Sweet Jesus duh po' sweet baby boy daid." First one and then the other would wail and carry on and then the other would chime in with a follow-up. They wailed and caterwauled for the news cameras for several minutes, trying hard to make sure they'd done enough to make it on the evening news. Then they gathered themselves up and waddled back to their car.

They told her to peer into the mind of a killer. They didn’t say which one.... It happened in a place of privilege in New York City, when a twelve-year-old boy committed an act of violence that stunned the city and the nation. Now forensic psychiatrist Tamsen Bayn has been hired by her fiancé, who is also a lead prosecutor in the case, to interview the accused boy’s parents and unravel the mysterious causes of an inexplicable crime. But when she does, Tamsen discovers something more shocking than the psychological history of a family and the pain of a deeply troubled boy. Tamsen begins to examine a shadowy connection between this crime and a pattern of violence around the country. Suddenly Tamsen is caught between science and the law, between the man she loves and a truth she must pursue. Inside an explosive mystery that involves genius, greed, hope, and murder, Tamsen may become the most dangerous player of all: the one who knows too much....

The imaginative Calvin and his pet stuffed tiger, Hobbes, take part in death-defying battles with aliens, meditate on the meaning of life, terrorize little Susie, and question parental authority.