Yet another recent DOGS review

A review recently posted on AMAZON for DOGS IN THE DISTANCE

Five Stars (out of five)

Great read, great playlist

By Melina Rivera on June 21, 2015
Format: Paperback

Great read, great playlist, had me hooked from the very beginning , it was a book I didn’t wanna put down and at the same time I didn’t want It to end, lots of great imagery and character development that kept me intrigued to the last word. I highly recommend this book! Not only are the chapters short which is great but the story flows in an interesting way, it keeps you wanting more . Can’t wait to read Devils Breakfast!

DOGS playlist

A list of some of the songs directly or indirectly referred to in DOGS IN THE DISTANCE. NOW OUT IN PAPERBACK!



Stone Roses: I Wanna Be Adored
Psychedelic Furs: Pretty in Pink
Nirvana: Smells Like Teen Spirit
Sister Mercy: This Corrosion
Soundgarden: Fell on Black Days
Sex Pistols: Submission
Nine Inch Nails: Closer
Billy Idol: White Wedding
The Stooges: Gimme Danger
Joy Division: She’s Lost Control
Thom York: Black Swan
Wire: Lowdown

Another DOGS review

A DOGS IN THE DISTANCE review by a recent reader.

Excellent Read. The only downfall is that I took …

By Rodney B Amieva on June 18, 2015
Format: Paperback

Excellent Read. The only downfall is that I took to long to read it. The character development is flawless and keeps you glued to the pages one after the other. Your sucked in right from the first page. with the chapters being short it gives you time for the story to sink in. I felt that this could be a movie or a TV show at times. When you are in this book you are involved right away.


A new customer review from Amazon.

Five Stars (out of five)

Recommended. A novel that’s layered

By Scott E. Martin on June 7, 2015
Format: Paperback

A very satisfying read! Recommended.

A novel that’s layered, involving, moody, seductive, smart; immersing the reader in the environs of Portland.

Enjoyable to the end.

P.S. Don’t miss the playlist!

Of DOGS and Pirates


So, I came across someone trying to find my book for free on pirate sites. I have to say, I don’t approve of the whole stealing creative work thing unless there really is just no other way to see/read/hear whatever it is. BUT, at the same time, I was kind of thrilled somebody would go through the effort. If people have the time and interest to read DOGS IN THE DISTANCE or anything else of mine, it’s a beautiful thing. So, I guess what I’m saying to pirate person is don’t do that…but I’m kind of glad you did that.

As for the rest of you. Just buy DOGS IN THE DISTANCE already!

DOGS and worms


“The murders are connected.” Gillian’s diagrams had a new shape. The gallery of the dead was now connected with lines. It all appeared perfectly linear. Five murders, one after the other. And so on, and so forth, until the end. Murder one was outside of Detroit back in ‘03. A twenty-two year old man named Rick Detrich found naked, bound and dumped by an old factory. Number five was Eric Thurman. Found naked, bound and dumped in the trash by a converted warehouse nine years later. “Maybe the killer just had a fondness for industrial architecture.” My joke didn’t go over well. “I don’t know why you can’t take this seriously. There really are such things as serial killers in the world.” “Yeah, and there really are such things as white Goldfish, that doesn’t make it real likely we’ll come across one.” “Goldfish? What the fuck are you talking about?”

He went back to his staring and imagining. A grand hypothesis was in the works. Eric Thurman would herein be referred to as “Victim Number Five.” At least in Gillian’s mind. “If you’re so sure it’s a serial killer, don’t you think you should contact the Bureau?” Gillian gave me the best fuck you look I had seen in some time. I wasn’t about to drop it. “You clearly think you’re onto some sort of pattern. Why don’t you share it with our comrades from Quantico?” I expected him to react with anger. What he did was worse. Sheer stubbornness and determination. “No, it’s mine until I can’t get any further with it. That’s all there is to it.”

I walked away and left him to ponder. It wasn’t that complicated. Gillian was reaching for the exotic. That one in one hundred. The stuff of feature films and talk shows. Most murders were far more mundane. An insult from a stranger. A vengeful lover. A drug deal gone very bad. These were the phrases that appeared on crime reports in files marked “Case Closed.” But Gillian would not be swayed. I believed him when he said he saw patterns. Humans make connections. Even when there are none there to be made. We look for reason in chaos. Create myths to solve mysteries. There is a basic rejection of the inexplicable because it is too unsettling to contemplate a world of “just because.”

The same battle was being fought and lost by those hoping for a quick resolution to the Radovich case. The theory that had gained the most traction was put forward by the rookie, Hersh. He surmised that the Radovich family had been targeted because they were not the nice family that they first appeared. Mr. was into some sort of serious shit. Exactly what shit, involving who, was still the matter of some debate. But they were trying. Every tree was shaken. Every skeleton rattled out of the closet. Radovich was targeted for a reason.

“Our guest has arrived” Gillian said. He gestures across The Cube to two figures. One was a woman around my age, maybe a few years older. The other I knew as much by his slouch as by his face. It was Dave. I’m sure he was none too pleased to be asked back for another interview. I had insisted. Gillian wanted to find Eric’s computer to prove his link to the serial killer. I wanted to find out what else Dave was hiding.

Gillian was all polish and profession, the nice cop sorry to have to inconvenience them. It went without saying that I was the asshole, the bad cop in more ways then one. In fact, I wouldn’t even be in on the interview. I would just be watching it through the glass. Fish in the aquarium. Sharks in the tank. I was hoping Gillian would come through for both of us.

He showed them to their seats and dimmed the lights. No need for high-stress tactics. The woman Dave brought along wasn’t his lawyer but his mother. I would have much preferred the suit. Somehow teen-age boys weren’t very open to talking about sex and drugs with their mothers’ present.

Gillian started the proceedings. The first lines from the play. “Hey Dave, thanks for coming down again. We really appreciate it. Is it David or Dave?” “Dave is good.” “Great. Thanks, Dave. So, we brought you down here because honestly, we’re a little stuck. We’ve had a really hard time putting together a couple of things regarding Eric. We were hoping you could clear them up for us. Do you think you could do that?” “Sure. I guess.” “Eric’s sister, Amy…” “Allison” “What?” “Her name is Allison.” “Right, sorry. Eric’s sister Allison says that he had a laptop computer that he took everywhere with him. We can’t seem to find it. Do you have any idea where it is?” “No.” “Well, just think for a second. Where did he like to use it?” “I don’t know. Home.” “He never took it with him anywhere?” “Sure. I guess. I don’t know.” “Did he ever take it over to your place?” “Just once or twice to play games on.” “But it’s not there right now?” “No.” “Are you sure?” “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Maybe it’s at school” “We checked in his locker. Is there anywhere else at school he might have stored it?” “No. I don’t know.” “Please just take a second and think about it. It would really help us out with our case if we could find that laptop.” “No. Sorry. I can’t think of anywhere.”

“Alright, we’ll leave that for now. Aside from you, who were some of Eric’s other friends?” “I told that other Detective all that.” “Well, I wasn’t here for that. Would you mind telling me again? I would really appreciate it.”

“I don’t know. He had lots of friends. Bill, Tyler, Worm, Derek…” “Slow down, I write pretty slowly. Sorry. Do you have last names for these guys?” “Bill Newman, Tyler Aranasky, Worm is Denis, we just call him Worm, Denis Holcroft, I think…” “Thanks.”

How about anybody older?” “No. He has some other people he liked to hang with but that was his thing. They really weren’t my crowd.” “What kind of crowd were they?” “College kids. They were just totally into themselves just because they had their own places and went to that crappy school.” “Which school?” “PSU.” “Was one of them named Carl Kraft?” “I don’t know. Sounds right. But. Maybe.” “Did you ever meet him with Eric?” “Maybe just once when Eric and I ran into him at Kontrol. I really don’t remember.” “So, you never spent any time with Carl?” “No.”

Lying sack of shit.





I walked to my car and drove to The Pig. It was pissing down rain and seemed to be getting harder. I’m hoping Emily’s waiting because there wasn’t a place to park. The assumption had been made that I would drive. I didn’t protest. I watched her run out and step into a puddle. It was deeper than she thought. Her canvas sneakers got soaked and I heard her curse through the glass.

She got in still swearing. We didn’t hug or kiss. Jokes were more the song of the hour. “Have a nice swim?” I asked. She was too pissed to answer which was kind of a twist. Usually, I was the one sulking.

She tended to her shoes and then decided to give up. I asked her if she wanted to change. “No, thanks. I’m good. How are you this evening?” she asked with a smile. That warm smile heroin that kept me coming back for more. I knew what I was doing but I couldn’t seem to quit.

She was in a mood to be sure. Tips had been decreasing. That night was pathetic. “Nobody uses cash anymore. It’s all debit. So, instead of a dollar a beer I get fifteen percent.” “Is that a huge difference?” “Hell yeah.” “Maybe it’s the economy.” Portland’s always been a cheap town but it was getting worse. The younger they are, the more they don’t like paying. Even drunk, people were getting stingy.

We drove down MLK past the scene of the crime. It wasn’t quite in sight but still too close for comfort. I didn’t want to think about it. At least not right then.

We crossed the bridge and arrived at Dante’s. Even in the rain there were crowds outside. Some were trying to get in. More than a few were just smoking. I wondered which they needed more, the tobacco or the conversation.

It took some circling but I finally found a space. There was something on her mind but I wasn’t sure that I should ask. “You alright?” “Yeah, why?” It was a smile back but it wasn’t the right one. I knew something was wrong. I didn’t push my luck and decide to drop it. I didn’t want to know if it was something about me. Let me at least have this night before we have that talk.

Everyone knew her and we’re let right in. But we were too late to get a seat at a table and stood in the back. I always liked this club because you could sit and relax. That night, I’d end up aching from too much standing around.

The lights grew dim as a band began to play. It wasn’t her boyfriend. He’s the main act. Instead it was white lights and fog machines accompanied by a haunting score. A throwback to the old days but highly effective. Shadowy figures emerged in silhouette. It really was a vision to behold.

They remained frozen like statues in a thick layer of fog. One moved forward and commanded your attention. A boney figure, distorted by disease and ready to break. It wasn’t anorexia but something worse. He’s milked his malady for all it was worth. He was even wearing a dress.

The effect wasn’t funny or ironic but more like a shot from “Vampyr.” Keyboards and synths built the ominous sound. The stick figure singer added his distorted whisper to the scene. It wasn’t my kind of music but I was entranced. It was the best show I’d seen in a long time.
After three encores, the house lights went on. Everyone present still seemed in awe. “Wow, that was great,” Emily said. Her mood had improved and I spoke before thinking. I made the mistake of referring to a concert back in the eighties. Another charismatic singer had made the same impression. Psychedelic Furs lead Richard Butler. I might as well have put a label on my head with my age on it.

I saw a group of pretty young girls. “Are they legal?” I asked. “To drink or to sleep with?” I wasn’t sure if she was serious. So, I declined to answer the question. “The show is 18 and over. So, the answer’s yes to at least one of those.” I regretted bringing it up and dropped the topic. We’re comfortable enough with each other that there was no need to talk just to fill space. There was something on her mind but she’d tell me when she was ready. Until then I could only wait.

The crowd thinned out. I wondered if they would return. “Is Billy screwed?” I asked. She looked at me oddly. “What do you mean?” “Because he has to follow such a good performance.” I wasn’t certain but I swear I saw relief in her eyes. “No, he probably loved it. He’ll be fine.”

By the time he took the stage everyone was back in their seats. Accordions and acoustic guitars weren’t my thing. It was the Portland sound, circa Twenty-Twelve. But Billy had a voice, there was no denying that. I had no doubt the kid would be a star. He had the perfect face for magazine covers.

I wondered who decided to have these bands play together. One or the other would have been perfect. Having both in one night just seemed a little weird.