Hello, friends! I’m C.S. Poe and finally back with another chapter of my free read, Choose Your Own Adventure story— The Murder Collection! It’s been a while, so you are welcome to re-read previous chapters here. Or if you’re new to this, each chapter ends on a cliffhanger and readers must choose the main character’s next action! Pretty neat, huh?

And would you check out the spiffy new cover art we have for The Murder Collection? Courtesy of Dianne over at Lyrical Lines.

Blurb: Dean Stewart recently graduated from a prestigious art college in New York City. Riding the high of a major success that has put him in the spotlight of the art community, there’s tremendous pressure for Dean to unveil his next collection. The only problem is, he doesn’t have one. In fact, Dean hasn’t felt any inspiration in months, and the funds from his first sale aren’t going to pay for his apartment and work studio forever.
Just when Dean can’t afford a single distraction, he gets noticed by homicide detective Jiro Watanabe, and not in a good way. Without warning, Dean is thrust into a world of mystery and murder, when all he wants is for Jiro to ask him out on a date that doesn’t involve the police station.
The art world just got a whole lot more cutthroat.

When we last left our intrepid duo, I believe everyone wanted Dean to recognize the dead guy in the tub of turpentine… so here we go!

–

Trying to recognize a dead body congealing in a tub of turpentine and what, at this point, had to be mostly his own fluids, was not what I had envisioned after a long day of painting.

Or no painting.

Frankly, I couldn’t imagine such a moment ever happening in my life.

But Detective Watanabe had asked me to look at the guy and I wanted to prove I was a big strong man, so I fucking looked.

God, did I regret it.

It took a minute for me to process who I was seeing, because it was a bit difficult to look past the bloated mass and face practically drooling off the skull. But I noticed that stupid van dyke facial hair… and then the huge gold ring on the hand hanging out of the tub….

I turned, shoved Watanabe out of the way, ran from the water closet, and vomited into a nearby trash bin, much to the annoyance of the surrounding cops and crime scene personnel. I slowly got down on my knees and hugged the bin as if it were a life raft.

“Oh my God,” I moaned.

Watanabe was at my side in seconds. He put a strong hand on my shoulder. “Sorry,” he said gruffly. “I shouldn’t have asked—”

“I know the guy,” I said. I looked up, and by the expression on Watanabe’s face, I was assuming I was a fabulous shade of sickly green.

Just Saw My Art Rival Dead Green.

“Who is he?” Watanabe prompted. I think he was a bit concerned I was on the verge of passing out— but he was also a cop, and the cop wanted the name more than he wanted to rub my back when the dry heaves started.

“Uh… Bradley. Jordan Bradley,” I answered. I wiped my forehead with the back of my shaking hand. “He— I went to art school with him.”

“How long have you known him?”

“A few years.”

“Were you friends?”

“No.”

“Lovers?”

The question startled me enough that I momentarily forgot I wanted to puke again. “Wh-what? No way!”

“It’s just a question.”

“I wouldn’t have dated Jordan Bradley if he were on fire and my affection would be all that put out the flames.” I considered the kneejerk reaction. Maybe I shouldn’t be telling a cop that the dead man in my studio was someone I actually loathed.

Watanabe clearly thought the same thing. “You didn’t get along?”

“We had…uh… artistic differences of opinion.”

“Rivals, then,” he concluded.

“You make it sound so dramatic.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“I mean, Jordan once threw one of my projects out the window and a taxi ran over it,” I admitted.

“Sounds a bit dramatic to me, then.”

“Yeah, but it was all him, not me!”

Watanabe stared at me with a hard crease between his eyes.

I stared back.

He eventually motioned with a small gesture for me to follow him out of the studio. I got to my feet, knees like Jell-O, and stumbled into the hallway after him. Watanabe motioned me to lean against the wall, then proceeded to question the every-loving hell out me. From what I had for breakfast, my daily route to and from the studio, to every single interaction I’d had with Jordan Bradley over the last month.

“And the last time you saw Mr. Bradley was when?”

“I don’t…,” I let out a frustrated huff. “A few days ago.”

“For what reason?”

“We bumped into each other at a coffeeshop.”

“How long did you talk?”

“Long enough for him to make fun of me.”

Watanabe stopped writing in his notepad and looked up.

“I’ve had a bit of an artist block lately, and he’s been rubbing salt in the wound,” I said, looking down and speaking to my shoes.

“What exactly did he say?”

–

READERS’ CHOICE:

What did Jordan say to Dean in the coffeeshop:

“Dean. It’s been so long. How’s that collection coming—is it at the MoMA? I’d love to see it.”

or

“Oh, I’ve been fine. Busy. So busy. I have a show opening this week. If you’ve got nothing going on, I can add your name to the list and get you in.”

–

Southernmost Murder

Aubrey Grant lives in the tropical paradise of Old Town, Key West, has a cute cottage, a sweet moped, and a great job managing the historical property of a former sea captain. With his soon-to-be-boyfriend, hotshot FBI agent Jun Tanaka, visiting for a little R&R, not even Aubrey’s narcolepsy can put a damper on their vacation plans.

But a skeleton in a closet of the Smith Family Historical Home throws a wrench into the works. Despite Aubrey and Jun’s attempts to enjoy some time together, the skeleton’s identity drags them into a mystery with origins over a century in the past. They uncover a tale of long-lost treasure, the pirate king it belonged to, and a modern-day murderer who will stop at nothing to find the hidden riches. If a killer on the loose isn’t enough to keep Aubrey out of the mess, it seems even the restless spirit of Captain Smith is warning him away.

The unlikely partnership of a special agent and historian may be exactly what it takes to crack this mystery wide-open and finally put an old Key West tragedy to rest. But while Aubrey tracks down the X that marks the spot, one wrong move could be his last.

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C.S. Poe is a Lambda Literary and EPIC award finalist author of gay mystery, romance, and paranormal books.

She is a reluctant mover and has called many places home in her lifetime. C.S. has lived in New York City, Key West, and Ibaraki, Japan, to name a few. She misses the cleanliness, convenience, and limited-edition gachapon of Japan, but she was never very good at riding bikes to get around.

She has an affinity for all things cute and colorful and a major weakness for toys. C.S. is an avid fan of coffee, reading, and cats. She’s rescued two cats—Milo and Kasper do their best on a daily basis to sidetrack her from work.

C.S. is a member of the International Thriller Writers organization.

Her debut novel, The Mystery of Nevermore, was published by DSP Publications, 2016.

 

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