Dying on the Edge: Sixth and Last Excerpt

 Some time in early March I will begin putting on brief excerpts from Solomon and Sheba, a tapestry of love stories, the lead one of which is based on the biblical story of the king and queen and the most intense love affair in history.  He is a white — or is he?– minister and she is blessed with a gorgeous voice and a gift for seeing the future.  This is a dramatic story of love that endures and pain that threatens to destroy.  Please watch this space.  I believe you’ll enjoy this story.

Detective Lieutenant Frank Ryman and his girl friend Jaysa have quarreled.  His cases have come apart and he is despondent.  He tells her he needs her and she says she cannot see him that night.  Anngry and surly he hangs up on her and goes home thinking that this might as well be the end for them.  He is there for her, but she surely is not there for him.  At home, he finds her there sitting in the dark.

He stood still, ambivalent.  He wanted to kiss her blind, go into her body and never come out.  And he wanted to smack her, make her pay for all the hurt she’d caused him.

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Dying on the Edge: Fifth Excerpt

Cloudy Ocean Shoreline

Hello again.  You’ll notice I use the same dark and stormy photo I’ve used before.  It’s about the gloomiest I could find and it portends trouble and grief, which is the way I view incest and other abuse, especially child abuse. I would have liked to use Munch’s “The Scream,” if I could have found an available copy.  I hope like me you read it and weep – then set out to help!

Frank Ryman, the lead detective is in his office where a young black couple has been ushered in.  He notices that the woman is somewhat unsteady on her feet and her companion is very solicitous of her.  She has been the understudy for the murdered woman.  Frank has asked the man to wait outside.

“My name is Carlotta Matthews.  I’ve never been married, so it’s Ms. Matthews, my father’s name.”

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Fourth Excerpt from Dying on the Edge

Lily Pads in Water

Det. Lieutenant Frank Ryman is telling his captain, Winthrop Pemberton, about an incident with the murdered woman that involved him.  Remembering, he is angry and embarrassed.

After a few minutes had gone by and the woman’s drinks had begun to take effect, she had come over and sat close to him.  Her perfume was expensive, exciting, but he was in love with Sofia.

“How about a kiss, lover?” she had whispered, her lips parted as she ran the tip of her tongue over them.

Sofia, Frank’s wife and the woman’s friend, was desirable.  He was faithful, not too long married, but this woman was like all the women in the Bible and good novels, like Salome and Scarlett O’Hara.  He had been forty-eight then and there wasn’t much he hadn’t been exposed to, but he hadn’t sampled all that many of the world’s women or the world’s vices, or even the world’s wares, for that matter.

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