1K Serials: Legacy Of Death, Ch. 7



By Richard Paolinelli





Bolton had been right about one thing, Barlow was not the last victim. Despite teams of Inspectors, patrolmen and clerks checking out any and all leads nothing had turned up but more victims. Three more victims had fallen to the knife of the Dyson’s killer, the name the press had given the killer once word had gotten out about the carvings on each of the victims.

Seven women in five days and still not one shred of evidence or a single lead existed that gave anyone hope that the killings would end with an arrest. With each hour that passed without sleep and without any positive news or leads, Bolton’s temper worsened until finally he bit off some poor policewoman’s head for merely offering to get him a cup of coffee.

Kiner stepped in quickly and ordered Bolton to go home and get some sleep.

“You’re no good to this investigation like this Mac,” Kiner said, gently putting a hand on Bolton’s shoulder to ease the sting of his words. “Go home and get a few hours of sleep before you collapse. We’ll call if anything turns up. It’s only ten in the morning and he’s never attacked during daylight. There’s time for you to get some rest.”

Grudgingly, Mac acquiesced. Too tired to trust himself behind the wheel of a car, Bolton resigned himself to a BART ride home to his apartment in San Bruno after he failed to reach Owens at her office or on her cell phone. He left a message for her, letting her know he was going home and that he would call her later after he’d caught a nap.

His place was only eight blocks from the station and his father’s apartment was situated nearly halfway between the two. Bolton decided to stop by and see how the old retired cop was doing. Nick Bolton had put in twenty-five years on the job before cancer had finally slowed him down and confined him to a wheelchair along with a live-in nurse.

“Hello Mac,” Chelsea Jackson greeted Bolton at the door. “He’s asleep right now, he didn’t have a good night.”

“I know the feeling,” Bolton replied wryly. “I’ll just look in him for a minute and then I’ll get out of your hair.”

Bolton quietly entered the bedroom and sat next to his father’s bed, watching and listening to the rhythm of his father’s breathing as he adjusted the covers on the bed. As he pulled back, he noticed that his father was now awake.

“You’re supposed to asleep, old man,” Bolton said.

“And you look like you need it more than I do,” the elder Bolton shot back. “You look worse than I do son. You’ve got another bad case, worse than Parker from what Kiner told me.”

“Pretty much.”

Nick Bolton sat up a little and looked his son in the eye.

“You’ll get him son,” he said. “He’s been lucky so far, but he’ll slip up soon enough.”

“I know dad,” Mac said. “What scares me is how many more he’ll kill before he slips up enough for us to catch him. But for now, you go back to sleep.”

“I will if you will.”

“That’s my next stop,” Bolton told his father as he stood up. “A few hours sleep, then I’m going to try to grab a quick dinner with Lisa.”

Nick Bolton quickly reached up and gently grabbed his son’s arm.

“You ever gonna get around to marrying that girl, son?”

“Working on it Dad,” Bolton said, covering his father’s hand with his own. “Just as soon as I can find enough time between major cases.”

“Make the time son,” the old man said, lying back in back and quickly drifting off to sleep. “Make the time.”

“I will dad, I promise,” he whispered before leaving the room.

Ten minutes later, Mac Bolton was sound asleep on his own couch, but it wasn’t a peaceful sleep. His dreams all began with him and Lisa together in a peaceful park and they all ended with nightmare visions of mutilated women riding the iridescent tail of comets in the sky above, each calling out for him to join them.

* * * * *

This cleansing was proceeding smoother than ever before. Over halfway completed and no interference yet from outside forces. Still, there was one who presented a problem, one who might unwittingly interfere with the holy task. Before that could be allowed to occur, action would be taken to permanently remove the threat.

* * * * *

He’d only intended to sleep for a couple of hours, but he must have rolled over and turned off the alarm in his sleep. He was awake, but it was now past eight and the sun had set two hours ago. After a quick shower and a change of clothes, Bolton was starting to feel human again. Before he could grab something to eat or give Lisa a call, his phone rang. He could hear Kiner bellowing at him long before the receiver reached his ear.

“Where in blazes have you been Bolton?” snapped Kiner. “Our friend has paid us another visit, we’ve just got a report of another victim in the park. Get down there, right now.”

It took over an hour, catching BART back to his car and then out to the newest crime scene. CSU was already working the scene and Bolton quickly found Sanchez first, not wanting to look at the figure lying under the black tarp anytime soon.

“What have we got so far,” he asked the tech, who was looking like she’d aged ten years in the past four days.

“Um, not much more than the others,” Sanchez replied, looking uncomfortable with the conversation.

“What does that mean, Sanchez?” Bolton asked, confused by the woman’s attitude. “Do we know the name of our vic yet?”

Sanchez did not answer, but merely bent over the covered body of the eighth victim and lifted away the covering.

It was Inspector Townsell. A single knife wound to the chest and the damned carving on her forehead confirming the identity of her killer.

“How the hell did this happen?” Bolton rasped, forgetting that just days before, he had considered Townsell a likely suspect. But before Sanchez could answer, a pair of men in long, black overcoats that screamed out Internal Affairs approached them.

“Inspector Bolton,” the taller of the two men said as they both flashed their badges. “Sergeants Cooper and Baker, IA. Can we have a word?”

“I’m in the middle of another murder investigation gentleman,” Bolton replied tersely, as he heard Sanchez walk away from the three men. “You’ll have to wait until I get back to the office.”

“I’m afraid that’s not good enough, Inspector,” Cooper said as the shorter Baker quickly stepped behind Bolton. “You can come along quietly or we can arrest you right here.”

“Arrest me?” Bolton exclaimed. “On what charge.”

“Suspicion of murder, Inspector,” Baker said coldly. “Ten counts of cold-blooded murder.”


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Like what you’ve read so far? Be sure and sign up for Richard’s newsletter, “Postcards From Infinity“, and if you’d like to become a patron you can do so right here. Any amount you choose will be appreciated and will help keep this blog, these weekly serials and Richard’s podcast, “A Scribe’s Journey” up and running. Thank you for reading and for your support.


Books 3 & 4 of the Timeless Series

If you haven’t had a chance to pick up copies of my Space Opera/Steampunk/Time-traveling Space Pirates novella series yet, you really should correct the oversight.

The Timeless (Book #1) and Secret of the Sphinx (Book #2) are out and available in print and e-book formats across several platforms. (Links below)

The next two books are scheduled for release very soon. Odin’s Runes (Book #3) will come out around Thanksgiving Day and Empire of the Golden Dragon (Book #4) will be released around Christmas Day. Check out the recently finished covers:

odins runes copy

empire copy


The final two books of the series – Blackbeard’s Treasure (#5) and The Last Quest (#6) – should be out before spring of 2020. They are loads of fun to read and suitable for readers as young as age 10 that will also be enjoyable to readers as old as 110.

Here’s the links for the two books currently available. You can get The Timeless for $0.99 as an e-book while Secret of the Sphinx is currently $1.99. Print copies go for $7.99 each:


1564615499The Timeless E-Book Amazon

The Timeless Print Format

The Timeless E-Book Other Platforms






Secret of the Sphinx E-Book Amazon

Secret of the Sphinx Print Format

Secret of the Sphinx E-Book Other Platforms


In Case You Were Wondering About Yesterday…

You might have noticed this post yesterday: Dear Wayback Machine and have been wondering what prompted it.

Well, it goes back to our good friend ChinaMike, the Lord of the House of 770 Vile Aromas, and his many minions (Camelflop, Frau Butthurt and others). They like to cherry-pick authors websites – usually in an attempt to attack said author by taking said cherry-picked portion of his or her website out of context. By not linking directly to the site this bars the ability to examine the rest of the website and getting an accurate read on the author in question.

China_Mike-ExposedIn ChinaMike’s case it also reveals a little bit of his character. He is such a creature of website traffic he once had Chinese Web Bots coming to his site to artificially inflate his traffic hits. He was called on it when he posted a screenshot of his traffic numbers that showed 92.7% of his hits were coming from China. (Pictured)

Since then, his numbers are well below what they once were. But he seems to think everyone else sits and worries about their website numbers too. Actually, most don’t. We’re too busy writing books or creating other sci-fi/fantasy media and selling them to worry about that. So he uses the Internet Archive to cherry-pick while – he thinks – hurting the target by denying them clicks on their site.

So I got the idea yesterday that since I have copyrighted material on my site, I have the legal standing to contact Internet Archive and serve them a DMCA to remove any and all instances of my website from their service. I did so, professionally, and they responded very professionally and agreed to do so after I proved that I was the legal owner of my website.

If they want to link to something on our sites, they will do so to the actual sites. No more Wayback Machine links.

Screenshot (19)

Yesterday’s post was one of the options I was given to prove to their satisfaction that I had the right to make the request. I could have chosen a more private method, but this one served a second purpose.

It served public notice to ChinaMike and his minions that they could no longer do this, sets a precedent for me to contact their individual ISPs and request that they remove any mention of my website on these individuals websites for the same reason and, I hope, serves as a road map for other authors who have been similarly targeted.

It is time we took away these toys from these Internet brats until they grow up enough to use them properly.



Dear Wayback Machine, per your request:

Dear Sir/Madam,
Your website, Wayback Machine, has been saving copies of my website and blog which are being used without my permission by other websites.
As my website contains copyrighted material, I am officially requesting that you block my two domains:
from your service and remove any and all archived copies of my website from your servers. Neither you, nor anyone else, has been given permission to reproduce my content in any form, any where on or off the Internet.
Please see to this matter ASAP.
Thank you,
Richard Paolinelli

Really, Facebook? Really?

Facebook has sent Larry Correia back to Facebook jail for linking to his blog post regarding ChinaMike, Lord of the House of 770 Vile Aromas, refusing to take down a link to pirated material from the legal copyright owner of the material in question.

Facebook is now bullying people who are standing up to Internet bullies.

Check out the post that Fail, er I mean, Facebook doesn’t want you to see right here:


And, by the way, fuck off and die, Mark Zuckerburg, you fascist POS.

Good News, Bad News

Great news: My two fantasy football teams are both going to start the season 2-0, barring one of the greatest second halves in the history of the NFL by Jarvis Landry of course.

Good news: It looks like the Troll Wars are over. The enemy has retired from the field. Aaron Pound got himself suspended from Twitter after encouraging violence against a woman in one of his tweets. A tweet I was only too happy to report to Twitter.

John Scalzi blocked me (although I have no idea why because I hadn’t mentioned him in months) and now the Aussie Asshat, Camestros Felapton, did this:

Screenshot (18)

Which is fine by me. ChinaMike, the Lord of the House of 770 Vile Aromas, is jousting with Richard Fox and Larry Correia. It seems ChinaMike posted a link to copyrighted material owned by Richard, material that was not meant to be open to the public at large, and when he was asked to remove the link from his Google-scrape website he went full ChinaMike. Which is to say: He went full asshat. Larry’s breaks down the insanity we’ve come to expect from ChinaMike in the link above.

Some PeopleFortunately for me, ChinaMike hasn’t spent too much time with me. But, I will admit that the last two or three times he has mentioned me there it has led to a spike in book sales. His last (known to me) mention helped promote the Helicon Awards to a lot of folks who were unaware they existed. So thanks for that! And as an added bonus, he’s not being a pain in my ass troll anymore.

Which really only left our good friend, the Great Lady Cora Butthurt. Cora’s troll game is, well, non-existent. And she is in such a state of the vapors over the 2019 Dragon Awards results that she can hardly put together two words – in English or German. So continuing the battle against her alone seems pointless. She was muted before. She’s blocked now.

So, it seems the War is over and I’m still here and still writing. I’m also still publishing and being published by traditional publishers. I have stories in at least three anthologies being released in October alone.

Now, for the Bad News: This means that The Corvo will likely be the final book of the Divine Trolls Comedies series. Scalzi’s Inferno was supposed to be Book 4, the final book of the seven-book series. Yes, the last three books were a joke and were never going to be written, much less published.

The entire series was nothing more than a satirical parody of my trolls. But since they have given up the game it seems unnecessary to write the final book. Which is a shame, because oh, the triggering that would have resulted.

Now, for the Greater News: That means more time for me to get back to work on the other serious projects and give you readers more great stories to enjoy. Starting with the next two stories in the Timeless series.

1564615499The Timeless, the first book of the series, recently collected Official Selection in the New Apple Summer E-Books for 2019. Its a Space Opera/Steampunk extravaganza that can be read and enjoyed by readers ages 10-110. Secret of the Sphinx is the second installment and is available in print and e-book formats.

Book #3 is Odin’s Runes which should be out around Nov. 1st with Book #4, Empire of the Golden Dragon, to follow shortly after. Trust me, there will be much more to follow.

*     *     *     *     *


AMAZON: www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07HCNWBYW

OTHERS: https://books2read.com/u/mvvBA8




AMAZON: www.amazon.com/dp/B07SZ3VRPR

OTHERS: https://books2read.com/u/4XaP5g


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Like what you’ve read so far? Be sure and sign up for Richard’s newsletter, “Postcards From Infinity“, and if you’d like to become a patron you can do so right here. Any amount you choose will be appreciated and will help keep this blog, these weekly serials and Richard’s podcast, “A Scribe’s Journey” up and running. Thank you for reading and for your support.






1K Serials: Legacy Of Death, Ch. 6



By Richard Paolinelli





Karyn Barlow worked as hard at watching her figure as she did her job at the National Bank. A petite blonde in her late twenties, Barlow counted every calorie and worked out religiously. She wasn’t going for the bodybuilder look, but she wanted to stay in shape.

If only finding the right guy was easier, she thought to herself as she jogged her way into Golden Gate Park. She’d heard about the grisly murders and took heed of the warnings from the police, but she felt confident she could take care of herself. She always carried pepper spray with her wherever she went.

The thought of the police sent her thoughts drifting back to Mr. Right. One of her regular customers was a police Inspector. He seemed like a very nice man, although here always seemed to be a shadow of sadness around his eyes, even when he smiled. He always had a kind word for her whenever he came in to the bank.

But, she allowed wryly, he was taken. She’d seen him once or twice with a nice-looking woman. They actually made a cute couple. Isn’t that about right, she mused as she turned along a dimly lit path in the park, all the really good ones are already taken. Barlow spotted a figure underneath one of the light posts ahead and instinctively reached for the pepper spray canister. But her hand stopped short of the canister as she recognized who it was.

“Oh, you scared me,” she exclaimed in relief. “What are you doing out here in…”

Barlow was stunned into silence as the figure quickly stepped forward and she saw the glittering knife rise up. Before she could utter a word of protest and reach again for the pepper spray, she felt the bite of the cold steel as it plunged into her chest.

For some insane reason, even as she fell backward into oblivion, all she could see was Dyson’s Comet glittering above her.

“How pretty,” she whispered as the darkness claimed her.

* * * * *

The park was in chaos again as the fourth victim had been found, bringing the police along with the usual horde of media and other looky-loos. Bolton and Foster arrived at the same time and walked into the park.

“Any luck on the records searches?” Bolton asked as they neared the crime scene.

“Nothing yet,” Foster said. “Although the shrink says we should be looking for someone with a case record similar to yours. Said if he didn’t know you better, you’d be at the top of his list of suspects.

“His words, not mine,” Foster added quickly in response to the look Bolton shot him. “How about you?”

“Nothing but dead ends all damn day,” Bolton replied as they neared the body.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this Inspector,” Sanchez said as she spotted Bolton, leaning over to lift the plastic sheet covering the victim.

The body had been posed after death, the victim’s hand placed together in prayer just above the bloody wound where the knife had entered to puncture her heart. Death had been mercifully swift, the woman’s face was free of pain, but carried the killer’s signature comet carving. Bolton looked closer at the woman’s face.

“Aw hell,” Bolton cursed softly as her recognized who the victim was.

“The vic’s name is…” Sanchez started to say.

“Karyn Barlow,” Bolton interrupted. “She’s a teller at my bank.”

“You know this woman,” Kiner said from behind Bolton, having just arrived in time to hear Bolton’s identification.

“Just from the bank, I usually wind up at her window when I go in,” Bolton replied sadly. “She seemed like a nice woman.”

“You think there’s a connection here?” Kiner asked.

“How could there be,” Bolton said, noticing a tall, dark-haired woman next to Kiner as he stood up and turned away from the body. “I doubt our killer even knows who I am, we haven’t even gotten close enough for him to be worried about us right now.”

“I want this checked out anyway,” Kiner ordered, quickly raising his hand to cut off Bolton’s protest. “I’m not pulling you off the case, but if this guy has decided to make this personal between the two of you, I want to know.

“This case is going to heat up, the guy who found our latest vic managed to tell the press about the markings he saw. It’s only a matter of time before it gets out that there’s a serial killer on the loose now.”

Bolton couldn’t argue the point, there were already whispers among the reporters of a connection between the comet and the killings. This latest revelation would all but confirm it. This was going to turn into a political hot potato and an even larger media circus.

“Who’s your friend?” Bolton asked, nodding his head in the direction of Kiner’s dark-haired companion.

“She’s Inspector Allison Townsell,” Kiner replied. “I’m assigning her to this case, and don’t give me any grief either. You need all the help you can get and Townsell is good. She even requested to join the investigation and I think she can be an asset.

“Townsell,” Kiner waved the woman over. “Inspector Townsell, this is Inspector Mac Bolton. You’ll be working for him for now.”

“Inspector,” Townsell said, extending a hand.

“Welcome aboard Inspector,” Bolton replied, shaking the proffered hand. “Strong grip you’ve got there.”

“I work out,” Townsell said. “It gets a suspect’s attention when I decide I have to toss them around the room a little.”

“I see,” Bolton said. “Well then let’s get you right to work. I want you to get all the information you can on Ms. Barlow there and cross-check it with everything we have on the first three victims. See if there are any connections between them, no matter how slight, and run them down.”

“You’re thinking there’s a pattern to our guy’s selection of victims?” she asked.

“Right now Inspector, I’m grasping at straws,” Bolton replied. “This guy hasn’t left us a crumb to work with that will identify him, I’m hoping he’s slipped up somewhere and this seems as likely a place to start as any. Report to me if you find anything.”

“You think that will do any good,” Kiner asked after Townsell had left.

“Nope,” Bolton replied bitterly. “But it’ll give us something to do until the next victim is found and then all we can do is hope he finally makes a mistake.”

Kiner nodded his head wordlessly before turning to address the media gathered just outside the park.

“Who’s the Amazon?” Foster asked with a quick look in Townsell’s direction.

“Boss decided we needed some extra help,” Bolton answered. “Says she good at these kinds of cases, specifically asked to be assigned to us. She works out by the way, has a pretty strong grip too.”

“What are you thinking?”

“If you are the killer, and you have connections to the cops,” Bolton mused, “what better way to keep an eye on the progress of the investigation than to be right in the middle of it?”

“You think she…?”

“All I’m saying,” Bolton said, “is for you to check her out and move her up to the top of the suspect list if there is any reason to. Got it?”

“Got it,” Foster said. “You want me to get started now?”

“Yeah,” Bolton replied. “There’s nothing more for us to do here anyway, let’s get out of here.”

Bolton paused long enough to watch two coroner’s deputies gently lift Barlow’s body and place it into a black body bag.

You may not be the last victim, Bolton vowed silently as he watched Barlow being carried away, but you will have justice.


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Like what you’ve read so far? Be sure and sign up for Richard’s newsletter, “Postcards From Infinity“, and if you’d like to become a patron you can do so right here. Any amount you choose will be appreciated and will help keep this blog, these weekly serials and Richard’s podcast, “A Scribe’s Journey” up and running. Thank you for reading and for your support.