Two Hundred And Twenty-One Baker Streets

Cover Two Hundred And Twenty-One Baker Streets
Genres: Fiction
Author of the gambling themed godpunk urban fantasy Wild Card, Jamie provided me with a story in her self-confessedly favourite story-telling milieu, the creepy carnival. One of the delights (and frustrations) of editing an anthology is the inevitable “I want more!” moments; I guarantee you’ll want more of Sanford ‘Crash’ Haus and his companion Jim Walker.
    THE CANVAS TENT held in heat like an Alabama kitchen, though it didn’t smell nearly so pleasant. The odors of dust and grease paint ming
...led with the smells of pungent herbs: patchouli, sandalwood perhaps. But there was no mistaking the funk of a blue drag somewhere beneath it all. That scent—the reefer— brought back all sorts of memories. Some good, others best left in the trenches.
    She’d sent me in here alone, and though Agent Trenet didn’t say it, I knew she meant to test me. No genius needed to figure that out, this being my first case. I turned in a circle in the tent, focusing on all the tiny details: the way the stitches on the psychic’s garish red scarves were fraying; the coffee stains on the rickety table peeking through the moth-eaten silk cloth.
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