Peter E. Abresch

Peter E. Abresch is a writer who has made several of his stories available as free audiobooks.

Ninety percent of the federal laws, resolutions, and appropriations pass or fail in the U. S. Congress by a handful of votes. When Alexander Judd stumbles upon the possibility of collusion in these votes, and sets out to investigate it, he quickly finds himself kidnapped by a trash-talking Elfy Cane. Who is wanted for murder. Cut the guy's heart out. Then, linked to Elfy by association, Alex finds the police are now after him. What more could a slightly out-of-shape widower ask? Well, falling in love with her wasn't one of them. Nor was having her fall into the clutches of the shadowy Church of the Dark Light, a secret coven meeting in the great building atop Jenkins Heights. Known today as Capitol Hill.

When a public garage locked up Chance Dugan's car for the night, with his wallet locked inside the car, he met the lovely Natti Moon who offered to put him up for the night. What's not to like? Except it turned into a week from hell, with both Chance and Natti on the lam from competing government agencies who are out to do them in. And when one got around to asking Chance for a hand, he only gave them a finger.

An audiobook recorded using a number of actors in stereo.

No one believed Joshua Punch.

Certainly not Karen Sawyer in present day Washington D. C.

“You're not going to believe this.” He gazed into her blue eyes. “While I was visiting Buckys's house–”

“Unknown to Buckeys.”

“Unknown to Buckeys–”

“While he's away on vacation.”

“While he's away–you gonna listen to this?”

“I'm believing it so far.”

“Somebody in there schlunked me on the head. I woke up dangling out on the ledge of the thirteenth floor of a hotel. In San Francisco. I got schlunked on the head again and I ended up back in Buckeys's house. I'm mentally being swapped back and forth with some guy in San Francisco.”

“What's not to believe?” Karen palmed up both hands. “So you're swapping bodies with another man.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “See, the difficult part was swapping bodies with someone from San Francisco.”

He stared into her big blues and one eyebrow rose.

“There's something else, isn't there? Something about San Francisco?”

“It's in the nineteen twenties.”

But believe him or not, when he landed in San Francisco he found himself in the body in of a private eye named S. Paid, who everyone called Spaid. And Spaid was smack in the middle of a war between a mob boss and a beautiful Chinese tong queen who had designs on his body. Which was okay with Josh, except when she threatened to cut off the good parts of his body. Who would feel the pain, Spaid or good old Joshua Punch? Also, Spaid's partner was killed and a couple of cops wanted to put him in a cell and throw away the key–clichés, everyone there spoke in clichés. Oh yes, and a woman wanted him to find something called the Faltese Malcom. Except…

“The Faltese Malcom?” The fat man's big belly shook as he tried to contain his mirth. “I hardly think so, Mr. Spaid. Another one of Miss O'Shaughnessy's little fictions I fear. What we are really looking for is… the Maltese Falcon.”

Meanwhile, in twenty-first century Washington, the falcon everyone wanted–the FBI, an oil company, and a couple of mobsters–was a guided missile stolen from a navy base. And everyone thought Joshua Punch had it. And if he didn't produce it, everyone was threatening to cut off the good parts of his body. And Josh had no doubt who would feel that pain.

But the O'Shaughnessy dame had it right all along.

In the end only one thing really made a difference.

The Faltese Malcom.

  • Last modified: 2014/01/31 00:02