Tyler Colins's Blog, page 29

Day Four, Only Two More

. . . days of the Forever Poi promo.  You’ve got Rey again, hey!

Me, JJ and Linda, private eyes from the Triple Threat Investigation Agency get a new case: figuring out who burned down two art galleries (and left two bodies in the ashes). 

There are a lot of suspects . . . and more bodies . . . and one crazy, but thrilling, rollercoaster ride.  We deal with a femme fatale, torch, angry exes, eager-to-please lovers, and a former queenpin, among others, and trying to pry (legitimate) info from them is no easy feat.

There’s also this dude, a big brute and associate of a double agent JJ accidentally killed, who wasn’t happy about what happened—and he decides to let JJ know exactly how not happy he is.

If you’d like to learn how we tie up the loose ends and solve the case, please check us out at:

Day Three, Not Quite Free

Welcome to the third day of the Forever Poi promo.  It’s JJ today, hey-ho.

For 99 cents, you can get a copy of our third exciting case.  In case you’re not familiar with us, we’re private eyes from the Triple Threat Investigation Agency—me (JJ), my cousin Rey, and her BFF, Linda.

Two up-and-coming art galleries are torched and two bodies found in the rubble.  We’re hired to find the arsonist by our new adjuster friend, Xavier Shillingford.  It’s a complicated and crazy case, with several possible suspects and another cast of curious characters . . .

  Crispy:  known island torch

  Cholla:  beautiful femme fatale

  James-Henri:  Cholla’s brother, and ex-lover and gallery partner of one of the victims, Carlos

  Mary-Louise:  the second victim

  Bizz:  a local artist with possibilities

  Bayat:  one of Cholla’s starry-eyed (will-do-anything) lovers

  Franklen:  another one of Cholla’s starry-eyed (will-do-anything) lovers

  Morten:  a tough-as-nails associate of a deceased double agent

  Race:  Cholla’s ex (one soured by an ugly divorce)

  Dan:  Cholla’s ex (one soured by an ugly divorce)

And the list goes on.  There are a sundry of potential reasons for a sundry of crimes.  We’re certainly kept on our still-newbie toes.  But we excel at persistence and perseverance.  LOL

If you’d like to learn how we solve the case, please check us out at:

https://www.amazon.ca/Forever-Poi-Tyler-Colins/dp/1079716483

Day Two, Bargain for You

It’s the second day of the Forever Poi promo.  Hi there.  It’s Linda today.

I’m going to keep it short and sweet, and provide an excerpt which I hope piques your interest.

For 99 cents, you can get a copy of our third case as private eyes from the Triple Threat Investigation Agency.  Someone torched two art galleries and left two bodies in the ashes.  It proves complex with many twists and turns, and suspects . . . and bodies.  Just when we’re sure we have it figured out, something unexpected happens!

“Why do you suppose he’s not returned calls?” Rey asked as we followed the Jag along Kapiolani, five cars behind. “Guilt? Sadness? A combination of?”

“Only he can answer that.”

“Who’s the woman looking very Audrey Hepburn?”

“The same one I’ve seen twice already.”

“But who is she?”

“Your guess is—”

“As good as mine, yeah.”

“Xavier mentioned a half sister. Maybe that’s her.”

“From what little I’ve seen, there’s absolutely no resemblance. James-Henri has a dumpling nose and a donut-round face.”

“And he has hazel eyes while hers are powder-blue,” I added. “I did say ‘maybe’.”

“She’s certainly very attractive. And that designer red lipstick is awesome.”

The sporty car pulled into one of three empty spaces before a row of unexceptional townhouse-condos near Ward and Prospect. Most had once been dusty pink and were now just plain dusty. I maneuvered into a parking spot on the street.

Rey scanned stores and checked her cell. “That’s Carlos’ place.”

“Really?” I looked at her, surprised. “How do you know?”

“Gail emailed just before you picked me up. She told me she’d be researching the two as soon as she got home, but had done some preliminary stuff and came across this address. Given his background and everything, she found it weird.” She appeared perturbed. “Not what you’d expect a successful gallery owner-slash-consultant to live in, is it?”

“He did have financial issues according to Ald.”

She gestured the duo. “They don’t appear to want to do much but yak and watch.”

“Maybe they know we’re back here.”

“Then why stop?”

“You got me,” I replied with a fleeting smile, keeping a vigilant eye on the two lest they shot off again.

“He must have a key.”

I concurred.

“It’s odd that Carlos lived here and James-Henri there. I mean, they were lovers, at least until recently. I can’t imagine one allowing the other to live in such a . . . a blah place.”

“Blah?” I grinned.

“Ugly. Cheap. It’s not in keeping with the lifestyle or persona he was projecting.”

“You mean successful gallery owner?” I asked dryly, noting that neither sportscar occupant appeared anxious or concerned.

Rey grunted into her cell when taiko drumming announced a call. “We got James-Henri and an Audrey Hepburn wannabe in sight. What’s up? You at the office?” She glanced at me and shrugged. After a few uh-huhs, she disconnected. “Lindy-Loo wants us to head home when we’re able.”

“Is she all right?”

“She’s something, that’s for sure,” my cousin replied flatly and gestured. “Our prey aren’t doing much.”

“Either are we,” I said regretfully.

“To hell with that.” With Reynalda Fonne-Werde melodramatic (reckless) flair, my cousin sprang from the Jeep and strode purposefully to the Jag.

If you’d like to learn how we [eventually] wrap up the case, please check us out at:

Day One, Back to Having Fun

Today’s the first day of the five-day Forever Poi 99-cent promo.

We’re taking turns, so today, you’ve got Rey.  Hey!  Poi was an exciting (and challenging) case, to say the least.  Let me give you a quick rundown.

Our third Triple Threat Investigation Agency case as official private eyes has me, JJ, and Linda out to solve a double-arson—and murder.  The perp who torched two Chinatown art galleries also left two charred bodies in the rubble. 

We think the pyro and killer are the same person but there’s a slew of possible culprits.  The day before the fire, Carlos Kawena, one of the arson victims, had this real ugly break-up with his partner, James-Henri Ossature.  There were financial issues, too. 

Maybe James-Henri was desperate to collect insurance and be rid of his lover at the same time.  What about the second victim, Mary-Louise Crabtree?  She was a former queenpin, among other things, so maybe someone she’d p’o’d in past murdered her? 

It gets pretty complicated pretty fast . . . but we love to be tested and prove that we’re skilled private eyes (even if we’re fairly new to the game, er, profession).

If you’d like to learn how we solve the case, please check us out at:

Living the Life Being Live

HA-HA-HA-HA, the Triple Threat Investigation Agency’s latest case, is now live on Next Chapter’s new website:

https://www.nextchapter.pub/books/ha-ha-ha-ha

You can begin reading the book directly on this page . . . and, if your curiosity is piqued, there are purchase links in the beginning and end if you decide to buy and continue reading the book.

A quick blurb . . .

The pretty P.I.s from the Triple Threat Investigation Agency—JJ, Rey, and Linda—have a new [non-paying] case, thanks to a serial killer who has taken a serious interest in them.  The GrimReaperPeeper has challenged them to “play the game”, by his rules.

Rules are made to be broken, however—or, at the very least, changed.

Baffled, the trio attempt to determine who he might be . . . not an easy feat, given the lack of constructive evidence and cast of oddball characters. As they endeavor to stop the man from killing again, they must solve a couple of other cases: verifying whether a hubby has a roving eye and ascertaining who is stalking a young, beautiful woman.

Could it be that these two cases somehow intertwine?  And who will prove the ultimate winner in this deadly game of taunts and perplexities: the clever and cunning killer, or the persevering and persistent private eyes?

Another feature on the page: direct commenting on my book pages, which allows us to communicate directly.  Perhaps you’d like to offer feedback . . . ?

Aloha from JJ, Rey, and Linda!

The Flopping Bouncing Blank-Minded Bed-Time Blogger

It’s Saturday and the post of the day just wasn’t coming; the funny thing is, it did, during the night.  Then . . . blankness.

Did yours truly get up at any time between flopping and bouncing for hours on end, to write down that notion?  Did yours truly remember in the a.m.?  Of course not.  It was . . . sheer blankness.

What I do remember:

flopping from one side of the queen-size bed to the other like a water-filled balloon being propelled from one side of the room to the other

flipping like a flapjack (and rather craving a plate with blueberry preserves)

bouncing like a bunny from the headrest to the footboard, and

contemplating worthy post ideas to, uh, post.

Could have gone with a review.  Read two great manuscripts recently, but neither are officially published, so that wouldn’t have been fair to the authors.

Might have gone with some editing/proofing tips.  Yawn.  Literally (and frequently).

Didn’t think about featuring an author . . . until now.

Didn’t want to have the Triple Threat Investigation Agency gals post on my behalf—they’re busy on the Murphie the missing (birdnapped) mynah bird case.

I don’t normally leave things until the last minute (but there are circumstances that make it difficult to follow the Girl Guide motto of “be prepared” . . . especially, well in advance).

So, there you have it . . . a post about . . . producing a post . . .

Hmm.  Now I have flapjacks on the brain.  Guess I’ll just have to make some, won’t I (elsewise that craving’s going to hang around, unlike that middle-of-the-night post notion)?

Enjoy your weekend!

A September Swan Song . . . Not

While there are times I want to walk away from this blog—simply not having the time or energy to post one more thing—I still can’t quite bring myself to sing that final swan song.

I know, in time, I’ll be able to approach this with fresh information/ideas.  The posts will flow freely once again.  It’s just a question of time and timing.

Rey, JJ, and Linda have been an enormous help over the last while, posting on my behalf with items of interest [primarily] to them.  But without them, I’d have doffed my top hat and bowed out long ago.

Writing is a labor of love, that’s for sure—has been for years.  The ability to write tales, weave plots, bring characters to life, like the three private eyes from the Triple Threat Investigation Agency, is sheer joy.  Of course, it doesn’t always come easily.  In fact, at times, it’s as if I have to bang my head into a wall to make something happen . . . other than the promised headache.

Editing is something else that also brings immense pleasure.  I’m not a great editor, but I’m a pretty darn good one.  I love being able to help others, to bring some life to their stories however and wherever I can.  A thank-you is never expected (and, frequently, doesn’t come), but assisting someone in bettering themselves is gratifying.  That not everyone wants the advice—the “tips”—is fine.

The point of this post?  Nothing of major note, to be honest . . . except to say thank you for following me (and the trio from the agency) . . . to let me help where/ when I can . . . to read these posts and “like” them.  I’d like to think that over the years, I’ve triggered the odd smiles or chuckles, or provoked notions or impressions.

There’ll likely be a swan song, one day—just not today.

A Song by JJ

I guess it’s time for me to provide something “creative”.  I’m not into poetry very much and I didn’t feel like writing a short story, so  . . .   I thought I’d go with a song.  Which, I suppose, isn’t very different from a poem.  But what do I know about songwriting?   

Of course the song I penned, Cousin Reynalda thought was too twangy, too syrupy, too croony.  She wanted something more fun and uptempo . . . and suggested I pen one about my Cash, who she calls my “sometimes boyfriend”. 

“Love’s a great theme, Cousin Jilly,” she purred.  Uh-huh, it’s a cliched and overdone one, but what the heck? 

Yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah,
Yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Ouch!

He’s cool, like ice / And sometimes he don’t play nice. / He’s tough, like steel / That’s what gives him appeal. / That one knows he’s hot / Ain’t no one thinks he’s not.

The women like what they see / And we all have to agree / He’s way too charming / To be a true darling.

Yeah, yeah, yeah,
Yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Ouch!

He’s cool, like ice / And sometimes he don’t play nice. / He’s tough, like steel / That’s what gives him appeal. / That one knows he’s hot / Ain’t no one thinks he’s not.

Likes to pat himself on the back / So proud of that six-pack. / Lives life on the dangerous side / Loves the thrills it provides.

Yeah, yeah, yeah,
Yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Ouch!

He’s cool, like ice / And sometimes he don’t play nice. / He’s tough, like steel / That’s what gives him appeal. / That one knows he’s hot / Ain’t no one thinks he’s not.

That guy’s way too cool / And he ain’t anybody’s fool. / He’ll luv ya for a moment or three / Then off he’ll ride, happy to be free.

Yeah, yeah, yeah,
Yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Ouch!

He’s cool, like ice / And sometimes he don’t play nice. / He’s tough, like steel / That’s what gives him appeal. / That one knows he’s hot / Ain’t no one thinks he’s not.

Yeah, yeah, yeah,
Yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah

Yeah, yeah, yeah,
Yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah.

. . . That was fun.  I know, I know.  Don’t give up the day job.  

A Short Story by Linda

Rey wouldn’t let up (as is her “persistent” way, LOL) re JJ and me contributing a poem post.  I enjoy reading poetry, but not penning it.  So, I thought a short story would be a fun, creative thing to do.

The Non-Sisters

Sylvie and Sonie, only children of the same age, lived side by side in identical bungalows with small well-maintained backyards and lawns.  Picket fences lined both—one in sea-green and one in azure-blue.  Both attended the same middle school and both came from similar backgrounds; their parents had traveled from across the big pond to make “new lives in the great land of opportunity”.

While Sylvie’s were Austrian, Sonie’s were Greek.  The fathers were stoic but hard-working construction laborers.  Both drank, happily and heavily.  The mothers worked in warehouses, one packaging meat products and the other stuffing olives; whereas Sylvie’s mom was angry and self-centered, and a devoted drinker of anything over 30-proof, Sonie’s was happy and creative, and drank nothing stronger than Greek coffee.

The parents were friends, not overly close, but close enough that they dropped by for chitchats and the odd family functions.  Sylvie longed to have a mother like Sonie’s—a woman who designed dolls from apples, rags, and anything and everything at hand.  The portly woman was talented and so easy to talk to, unlike her cyclonic mother, who could prove “unpleasant” at the best of times.

The fathers died within a year of each other; Sylvie’s succumbed to kidney cancer and Sonie’s was struck by a forklift.  The mothers grew close—for a while.

In their late teens, the good friends, who’d always laughingly called themselves sisters, parted ways when Sonie moved to L.A. with her mother.  Daughter and mother had plans: to make names for themselves.  Sylvie went to university and pursued a degree in literature; she had no idea what she’d do with it, but it seemed a good thing to do.  The young ladies stayed in touch for a couple of years, but eventually moved on in their lives—to new friends and undertakings.

Sylvie loved her mother as far as she understood “love”; she was, after all, the woman who’d given birth to her.  But she didn’t like her, and she was fairly certain her mother felt the same about her.  Their tumultuous relationship did soften somewhat over the years after her father died, maybe because they lived together and realized they should make an effort to “get along”.  As time passed, Sylvie continued to live with her . . . seeing to her needs and taking care of her . . . eventually, at the cost of her own life and health.

Sonie loved her mother, worshipped her in fact, and over the years their bond only grew stronger.  They too lived together, did everything together, in fact.  They held doll exhibits, wrote and published short stories, and even produced two short films.  When Sonie’s mother died, a huge part of Sonie did, too.  She was lost.  Unable to function as an individual.  She ate . . . and ate . . . and ate.  Her health deteriorated . . . and then . . . she died.

Love—be it familial, friend-based, romantic—is a curious thing, defined and expressed in many ways.  Oddly, it can prove as harmful or detrimental as it can be encouraging or inspiring.  It can prompt pain and anguish, yet it can bring comfort and joy.  Yes, love is a very curious thing.

To be freeLike a little beeTo fly where one mayAny which ...

To be free

Like a little bee

To fly where one may

Any which way.

To soar under the sun

And just have some fun

To be little me

So cheery and free.

To sit on a flower

For even an hour

To embrace life

And ignore strife.

To be free

Like a little bee

To have no woes

And just repose.

. . . Hey, never claimed to be a poet.  But it sure was fun pretending to be one (he-he).

I think I’ll challenge Lindy-Loo and Cousin Jilly to pull on their rhymester caps.  You listening, ladies?