GENRE: Adult Mystery
Wiry and strong as a rod of rebar, Lamar Gallivant was gifted with an uncanny aptitude for math, baseball—and burning shit down.
He hung out behind a shoe store until the black Mercedes rolled up at exactly 10:20. The sleek four-door, with tinted windows and Georgia plates, slowed to a crawl as the passenger lobbed a disposable cell phone into leaves piled near the curb. Once the sedan was out of sight, Lamar retrieved the prepaid burner and powered it up. A text message spelled out his target’s address.
Lamar hiked his baggy jeans and tore through the heart of Charleston’s river-carved peninsula. Blowing past college chumps. Dodging tourists. Sidestepping businesswomen. At East Bay Street, he zigged north alongside the Cooper River. Property values and fashion sense nosedived with each stride. Rainbow Row gave way to sun-bleached blah. Broken street lamps replaced copper carriage lanterns. Seersucker couture morphed into overstuffed stretchy pants.
Nine blocks later, the road forked at the dilapidated row houses and subsidized apartments of Fleet Landing. The east-side neighborhood, less than two miles from the opulent Battery and South Carolina’s most stately antebellum homes, was almost dead—close enough to call the coroner. Lamar plopped on a bench to retie his boot laces and shake off a flicker of unexpected jitters. He longed for the inky darkness that’d made him invisible on his previous jobs.
He should bolt—call it quits.
But fifteen grand was a lot of money.
The trouble with trouble…