C. P. Holland
mysteries by Frank J. Gillmore in print

DEAD NUMBERS

Claudine lifted her head, crossed herself, and threw an handful of dirt into the grave. C. P. Holland waited only a few seconds before he stepped forward, helped her to her feet, and cuffed her.
. . .
By the time Claudine was released on bail, it was mid-morning and Charlie was tired and red eyed. He eased himself into the cab of the truck,leaned back against the warm leather seat, and closed his eyes before he pulled out his keys. "That Claudine is something else," he muttered to himself. The motor purred like a kitten, and he headed east into the sun and home.



BIG TIME LOSER

The woman lost again. C. P. Holland watched the monitor carefully studying her. She was pretty in a faded way. In her late thirties, maybe older. She had played and lost at Doreen's table all week. A diamond solitaire was missing from the woman's left hand. Doreen dealt the cards and chatted away aimlessly, but she looked worried.



HOT SLOTS

"Hey, Charlie," George yelled, "We need you downstairs. There's trouble at thirteen." George picked up his baton and hurried toward the stairway. C. P. Holland switched the monitor to thirteen. A woman was sitting in the aisle near the dollar slots counting the same money over and over. On the floor next to her, a man in his late thirties sprawled across the aisle. Blood gushed from a head wound and soaked into the carpet.

C. P. Holland
Mirian Temple

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