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eBook Category: Horror/Mystery/Crime
eBook Description: Rick Gilroy, the new detective in Huron City, Michigan, thought that getting out of big city policework promised a future of relative ease. Then a series of dead women shatter his plans for a quiet life in the placid resort town. Things get even more complicated when Moreen Valentino, a beautiful psychic who can raise the dead, and Ed Cooper, an insurance adjustor forced into early retirement by the Sumerian god of pestilence, get involved in the case.

eBook Publisher: The Fiction Works, Published: 2000
Fictionwise Release Date: May 2006

6 Reader Ratings:

Great	Good	OK	Poor

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [191 KB] , ePub (EPUB) [223 KB] , Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [153 KB] , Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [1.0 MB] , Palm Doc (PDB) [172 KB] , Microsoft Reader (LIT) [182 KB] , Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [208 KB] , hiebook (KML) [451 KB] , Sony Reader (LRF) [254 KB] , iSilo (PDB) [141 KB] , Mobipocket (PRC) [177 KB] , Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [233 KB] , OEBFF Format (IMP) [224 KB]
Words: 51678
Reading time: 147-206 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

"...clever combination of graphic horror and satire ... characters are well developed and likable, and the story's climax is consistent with the grandest traditions of horror fiction, not to mention very creepy. I give Demonesque my highest possible recommendation."--Jeffrey A. Katt, Bloody Muse Magazine

Pausing, Ed tapped the ashes from his unfiltered Camel into an ashtray shaped like a female breast. He stared at it often, recalling what it was supposed to mean as he was fired from Mutual Life Insurance Company. It was a gift from Mr. Prescott, Mr. "Mutual" himself. You were a big boob, Ed. That's what it meant. You can't sleep with the boss' daughter--and wife--and still be employed. The ashtray was overflowing with spent butts, chewed gum, and crumpled Post-It notes: it was a big boob for a big boob.

That was five years ago. He had to gather his thoughts, fish them out of the perpetual hangover that was his mental environment. Sometimes he wished he would just get hit by a car out on Elvis Presley Boulevard and die happy in the shadow of Graceland. Ah, the dreams, Ed, the dreams.

But Ed Cooper's life always fell short of being blessed. As a kid, he was the one caught stealing when everyone else got away with it. In college, he was the one who missed out on the scholarship because he was second-best. And as an adult, he was the adulterer caught with the boss' wife when a dozen men had done the same thing. Ed couldn't stand life, it wasn't fair. He was sure of one thing, however; everyone wins the lottery once in their lifetime. His turn was coming, he was convinced.

Ed took a drag on his cigarette. In front of him, a small pile of paperwork beckoned. His most pressing matter, however, outside of smoking his cigarette, was the file in his hands. Mrs. Althea Waymouth, 51, Memphis, Tennessee: the only person who tried to make a claim against her policy in the five years he'd been with the shady outfit calling itself an insurance company.

Mostly, his day consisted of a pot of coffee before lunch, a few sports magazines, a pack of Camels and a pint of Scotch, lunch at some barbecue shack (extra onions, please), followed by an afternoon nap. Staring at the boob, he couldn't believe this was his lot in life after 37 years. His eyes wandered out of his office window, resting momentarily in the distance. Just beyond the high-rises and riverside warehouses, he could see glimpses of the Mighty Mississippi cutting a path toward New Orleans. God, how he wished he was a barge going downstream.

The beeping phone brought him back from the fantasy. Ed quickly poured over the adjustment claim form before picking up the holding Mrs. Waymouth. The actual policy was not taken out on Althea, but on her daughter Vera. Vera Waymouth, 33, unemployed, unmarried, possessed. He hated adjusting cases of possession. Usually it consisted of bad acting, theatrical makeup, and if he was lucky, some entertaining home wiring.

Reluctantly, Ed picked up the phone, "Mrs. Waymouth, this is Ed Cooper. Yeah, I'm the adjuster."

He paused, trying to answer her rapid-fire questions. There was no way Mystical Insurance Corporation was going to pay this claim. They never paid any claims. If people were stupid enough buy paranormal insurance, they deserved to be ripped off. It didn't matter if Big Foot smashed their Winnebago or if a UFO made off with their case of beer, no one was going to get paid. Except him, of course, that was Ed's philosophy.

And the more claims he could deny, the bigger the bonus. It was hard enough finding a job after being blackballed by Mutual. He was lucky Mystical needed a liar and shyster at the time he was at the peak of his craft.

"Look, I can't..." he listened. "I'll have to come for a visit..." again, he paused to listen.

She rambled on. Ed put the phone on the desk and poured some Scotch into his coffee cup. In between sips, he offered nondescript responses in the direction of the phone. "Really? Wow. That's unbelievable. Huh?"

"Are you listenin'?" Mrs. Waymouth suddenly asked.

Ed scrambled for the phone, nearly spilling his beloved Glenlivet. "Mrs. Waymouth, I can't process your claim unless you've had clerical diagnosis by a recognized clergy member."

"What?"

"You need to have a priest come and diagnose your daughter as possessed."

"Our minister was here already, says it's possession."

"Your policy states that any non-Catholic clergy that makes a diagnosis of possession must have it verified by a Catholic priest."

"We're not catholic."

Ed suddenly saw the possibility of closing this case right over the phone. "I'm sorry, the Catholics are experts on possession and we rely on their word to process a claim."

"Really, well I'll get one over here, directly. My sister-in-law's Catholic."

"Oh," Ed sucked on his cigarette, knowing in his heart he'd have to see Mrs. Waymouth eventually. "Okay, I'll come to your house this afternoon. I have to ask a few questions before I can deny, I mean, process your claim. See you later, Mrs. Waymouth."

Ed hung up the phone, tapped his ashes into the ashtray and thought about what to do next. He reached into his drawer and pulled out a copy of the Mystical Insurance Paranormal Adjustment Manual, then turned to the page concerning Satan.