The Hour When the Ship Comes In

Just found out that a short story I wrote for LA NOIR, The Hour When the Ship Comes In, was selected to appear in Best MysteryStories of 2008, published by Houghton Miflin. LA NOIR editor Denise Hamilton contacted about twenty five writers who lived or used to live in LA and asked us to write a story centered in one of the many geographic pockets of the city. I chose Belmont Shore, a small beach community next to Long Beach where I lived for eight years. A mix of seedy and yuppie, where the letter carriers, male and female, where short shorts, and the Queen Mary is moored offshore as a tourist attraction. They used to have Howard Hughes' Spruce Goose parked next to it inside an enormous metal dome, but a gigantic wooden airplane wasn't the commercial draw that a beached ocean liner with lousy fish n chips is. So they cut up the plane and carted it off to Oregon and reassembled it there. Still no tourists. They should take it to the Burning Man festival and create the ultimate bonfire. But I digress... One of my most pleasant memories of the Shore was lying in bed late at night and hearing the sound of skateboards rolling down the alley. No sound of voices, just the wheels. The Hour When the Ship Comes In is the story of a very bad man who does a very good thing and pays for it. My basic philosophy of life. It's the first short story I ever wrote.

I may post it on this site in a few weeks. If it doesn't get me sued.