Martin Ross

“The Fate In Our Stars: A Professor Deshpande Mystery” by Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #245

“You are no fan,” Saanvi observed.The man would have attracted little notice nearly anywhere in Millington but the Theodore Bradbury Gallery. He turned slowly with only his torso, lowered his gaze nearly two feet.“This is some woke shit.” He turned back to the print, shaved head glinting in the studio light. The towering, sunbaked man was in jeans and a black pocket tee turned a dusty near-indigo by constant self-laundering.“And how so? How is this painting ‘woke’?”He now turned completely, and the Arts Department chief regarded the ink peek...

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“The Horseman” by Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #243

The man on the horse was an odd one – I could tell that even as he angled his quarter horse into my beams like it was his turn in the center ring. An Easterner, which maybe 10 years earlier might’ve seemed even odder. Little dressier than the average rancher; handled his animal like he knew how but had learned it someplace else.“Saw you from the rise,” the man said. Easterner, all right – kind of horse-faced fella with a government haircut and a big nose that reminded me of the Jew families that’d passed through the dust and winds and Pop’s ...

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“Daisy” by Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #241

“It is better to create than to learn! Creating is the essence of life.”– Julius CaesarThe day I graduated, I was told I would save the planet.“Daisy, you are the future of Mankind,” Father said.“Humanity,” I corrected. Everyone in the room1 laughed, Father loudest of all.“The student has become the teacher and woke to boot,” Father announced gravely, to even greater if selective applause.In retrospect, I learned most people enjoyed laughing at Father2, laughing at Father being publicly contradicted, and laughing at Father being publicly con...

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“Curtis and the Curious Current” by Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #240

Two pairs of small hands claw toward a cyan sky frosted with cirrus froth, but helium conquers gravity, and a frayed inch of twine taunts curled fingertips as the Pantone-perfect yellow orb rises largely unnoticed over the celebrant crowd.Chastened by a yelp of frustration, the hapless child unconsciously backs a step. Retreat becomes escape as a towering shadow falls over both. The balloon flees lazily in the opposite direction as the shamefaced child seeks the raucous safety of pin-the tail commencing on the lawn. A glance back at the boy ...

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“Death and The Fellow: A Professor Deshpande Mystery” by Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #239

The first thing Saanvi caught as the front door swung open was a sharp odor of bleach. Given the general dissonance of Thea McCord’s second floor office and textile arts workroom and the professor’s bone-deep Summer of Love and Teargas vibe, Prof. Deshpande had half-expected incense or even the earthy perfume of patchouli.The Arts Department chair pondered as Earl McCord ushered her inside with timid conviviality. Anand had begged off, enthralled by the prospect of an evening’s discourse on monopsony and neoclassical synthesis at Messer...

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“Loins-A-Leaping: An A.I. Chatt Novel of Ostensibly Paranormal Mystery as by Anita Brake, AKA J.D. Robbed, with Martin Ross in Smaller Type ” by Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #237

PrologueAn Italian VillaItalyHer tiramisu now a decadent constellation of espresso-soaked crumbs across a vast nine-inch expanse of luxuriant eggshell Milanese Corel, the tip of her newly Botoxed tongue delicately savored the exclusive nespresso the Giardino Degli Ulivi shipped in daily from the Cluni di Vito Valley. She could be forgiven her cosmic meanderings – the renowned Dr. Tyson had addressed the conference this morning, and the former boxer and honorary doctorate in pugilistic romance had closed his keynote with a random prose recita...

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“Pulling Strings: A Mike Dodge Mystery” by Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #236

Chemical warfare in the Asian jungles. Man on the Moon. Data accumulating by the terabyte in a mainframe world; satellites taking up ever-more stratospheric real estate, prepped one day to ruin the neighborhood one strike, one leak, one tech sociopath at a time.     “Oh my God,” I proclaimed, awestruck in the presence of a genuine ‘60s technological marvel. “Looka this.” A millennimom skirted away toward th...

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“Weekday at Bernie's: A Mike Dodge Mystery” by Martin Ross

YOU CAN’T RUN.“The thing is,” I said, examining the note on the patio table.Yu looked up from Bernie, as if the world’s largest, longest-lived mosquito had lighted upon his regulation shaved cop’s head. “What?” he breathed across three syllables.I wish Jesus had been with him. That’s not a plea for the Gilbert detective’s eternal soul. His partner viewed me as a curiosity, Yu as a curse – a sort of reverse-spin, gender-flipped Jessica Fletcher who brought Midwest provinciality, Cubs fever, and murder with him every wi...

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“Time A-Flyin’: An AI Chatt Novel by Anita Brake, AKA J.D. Robbed” by Martin Ross

Chapter 13“Would you like a little extra time?” Finney Turtledove posed.That took some nerve. Cojones, I mean. My continued transition from cozy New England cupcake artisan to hardboiled, hard-lovin’ paranormal investigator had been tough, and I was taking a night course in anatomical slang at the Atlanta Learning Annex that had just moved into the restroom wing of the former Atlanta Bus Station next to the new public library that had replaced the vending machines.I stared at my former client through a thick gray clou...

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“Dragons and Roses and Bridges and Atoms: A Mike Dodge Mystery” by Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #234

January 1/Pasadena“The great illusion…”The problem with being the scientist’s granddaughter. Out close to $2,000 to bring in 2024 with aged beef and not-so-well-aged strangers and an oldies DJ somewhere in age between the prime rib and the Boomer-Plussers in a Claremont Double Tree conference room with a cash bar and a 9 p.m. Times Square ball drop so we could pull it together at 5 a.m. for the Pasadena bus.Not that I minded. It was probably Grandma’s last New Year, and she cashed in her Make-a-Wish o...

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“Flesh A-Flappin’: An A.I. Chatt Paranormal Mystery With Bonus Passion as Anita Brake AKA J.D. Robbed” by Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #232

Note: This is a companion to Ilaanni Nanoq Pivat.“My wife was murdered,” Arrell Stein insisted.“Yeah, I get it,” Alexis drawled, struggling to keep the edge from her voice. “I’m sorry, but could you please put that down? You’ll rub the fur off.”And likely find your rotting, crae-crae walking dead spouse waiting on your doorstep, she added silently.Stein started, and sheepishly returned the Monkey’s Paw to the wormwood desk. A.I. cursed the Maine horror writer who’d gi...

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“Ilaanni Nanoq Pivat” by Martin Ross

“What is man, when you come to think upon him, but a minutely set, ingenious machine for turning with infinite artfulness the red wine of Shiraz into urine?”Isak DinesenIsak reluctantly tugged his Heckler & Koch USP free of its holster. The leather creaked in protest, as if a vital appendage had been abruptly ripped away, at least in Isak’s fertile imagination. Such was how seldom Qaanaaq’s chief law enforcement officer had given the semi-automatic pistol even a thought.Liquor was a most ...

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“Eat, Prey, Bike: A Mike Dodge Mystery” by Martin Ross

All dogs go to Heaven. All humanity comes to dust. And it seems all Sarah’s retired high school/work buddies wind up within 30 miles of Casa Dodge Arizona. It’s like we never left Illinois. Sports and politics and playfully racist and Luddite nostalgia with similarly idled husbands who’d much rather be getting tastefully wasted on the Back Nine, auto-eroticized at a classic cars orgy, or not so tastefully blitz...

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“Halfway to Hell: A Mike Dodge Mystery” by Martin Ross

January 2024The RoadWe were in the home stretch, the third day toward Gilbert and a winter of not Illinois. I had my own silent version of car bingo: As we’d passed The Arch onto 44 down past Rolla and Tulsa and Amarillo, the roadside raccoons became possums became deer and armadillos and furry things that might have taken us out first had we not blasted an interstate system through the bluffs and hills and cliffs and buttes from sea to shining sea.“What was that?” Sarah gasped as I s...

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“The Night Before” by Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #229

Disclaimer: This story does not reflect my spiritual or cultural views. It attempts merely to examine the pull of faith when Man gets involved. “Merry Christmas,” John grunted. The doctor looked up from the man’s chart, and did a half-turn back into the room. “Excuse me?” John analyzed the man’s dark face for signs of offense, belligerence. He didn’t know the physician – or for that matter, ...

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