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Blood, Sweat, & Tears Discography Grid $2.00

These information documents for each of the official Trade Mark of Quality releases includes the known details for each genuine TMQ title. This includes the TMQ catalogue number, artist, record title, track list, musicians, venue, recording date, master tape and record matrix info and the other particulars for each album.

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Mercury Media llc

Bob Dylan Great White Wonder Discography Grids from $2.00 $34.00

These information documents for each of the official Trade Mark of Quality releases includes the known details for each genuine TMQ title. This includes the TMQ catalogue number, artist, record title, track list, musicians, venue, recording date, master tape and record matrix info and the other particulars for each album.

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Michael Cooper

Brian Jones: Butterfly in the Park $50.00

Brian Jones: Butterfly in the Park is available EXCLUSIVELY from our site. In the 1960s, Michael Cooper was a successful photographer working in the London music scene. His photographs were the foundation of album covers from the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band to the Rolling Stones’ Their Satanic Majesties Request. He was a fashion photographer for Vogue London, and collaborated on an early film adaptation of A Clockwork Orange featuring the Rolling Stones. He was as much a part of the culture of 1960s London as he was its chronicler. Michael photographed many of the icons of the counterculture movement of that unique period. But it was his close friendship with the Rolling Stones that formed the foundation for his extraordinary career. Brian Jones was the multi-instrumentalist band leader who arranged and designed the Rolling Stones’ musical direction, crafting a music fusion which has defined their sound and attitude ever since. He was the musical genius who created a cultural and musical phenomenon. Brian Jones: Butterfly in the Park collects over 120 images chronicling Brian Jones’ career, his life, and in many ways his relationship with Michael Cooper, who was ever at Brian’s side with his camera, ready to record Brian’s magical presence. Adam Cooper and his wife Silvia have opened the Michael Cooper Collection archives to bring us an insider’s view of Brian Jones and the Rolling Stones in the recording studio, live on stage, at play with their friends in Ireland and Morocco, on the cover photo shoot for Their Satanic Majesties Request, and so much more. With an introduction by Paul Trynka, and new contributions from Donovan, Linda Lawrence Leitch, Andee Nathanson, Prince Stash Klossowski de Rola, Brian’s son Julian, and his grandson Joolz Jones, Brian Jones: Butterfly in the Park offers a unique insight into one of the most enigmatic and influential musical figures of the 1960s, as some of Brian’s friends recount their own personal experiences in nearly 9,000 words. Brian Jones: Butterfly in the Park comes in softcover, full color, 8.5x11, 154 pages. ISBN: 978-1-947521-31-5 Media one sheet. Download here.

Brian Frazer

Cartoons with my Dad $18.95

“...captures the beauty, nuance, and complexity of the father-son relationship.” —Stefanie Wilder-Taylor, author of Sippy Cups Are Not for Chardonnay When his mother was diagnosed with MS, Brian Frazer lost both his parents to the demands of the disease. His father, Sam, was his mother’s sole caretaker for forty years, unavailable to his children or his art. After his mother died, Brian had the opportunity to reconnect with Sam. But how could he reestablish the relationship? The answer was in a doodle. One day—on a whim—he suggested his father draw a cartoon that Brian had written. The old spark returned to Sam’s eyes. With every cartoon, Sam came back to life, and so did Brian’s connection with his dad. Brian Frazer is an author, stand up comedian, and self-proclaimed neurotic. Cartoons With My Dad chronicles Brian’s quest to find his relationship with his father, and in the process, find himself. Paperback, 7x10, 267 pages ISBN: 978-1-947521-09-4

Nile Southern and Adam Cooper

Chicago 1968: The Calm Before the Storm $50.00

In the late summer of 1968, writers Terry Southern, William S. Burroughs, and Jean Genet were deployed by Esquire magazine to cover the Democratic Convention in Chicago. With photographer Michael Cooper and poet Allen Ginsberg inseparable parts of their coterie, the “fab 5” (as Michael Simmons dubbed them) were unflappable, capturing the calm and riding out the storm. These were turbulent times, as growing opposition to the Vietnam War inspired the Yippies to organize one of the biggest youth demonstrations of all time. Pot-smoking peaceniks descended upon Chicago from all over the country to protest the 1968 Democratic National Convention and the anticipated coronation of the Establishment candidate, Hubert Humphrey. Chicago was a Republican stronghold, and Mayor Richard J. Daley wanted to present a peaceful “law and order” city that wouldn’t tolerate any “outside agitators” or “unpatriotic” long-hairs. No one could have foreseen the unprecedented mobilization of tens of thousands of young people from all over the country, and the lengths to which Mayor Daley went to shut them down. Michael Cooper and Terry Southern, no strangers to absurdity and highly attuned to the strengths and aspirations of youth culture, witnessed the deployment of the national guard, a belligerent police force “run amuck” and rioting, and the outrageous aggression unleashed on the protesters on the streets of Chicago—harkening to the hugely funded militarization of police forces today, and the continual need for their reform.Chicago 1968: The Calm Before the Storm captures Michael Cooper’s celebration of his writer-friends and the protests in which they were playing a part—¬moments before the chaos and terror that became Chicago ’68. Accompanied by one of the great new journalism pieces by Southern, we have, with Cooper’s photos, an intimate and wry, world-weary account of a pivotal cultural moment whose city-sponsored violence has echoed throughout history and offers us a cautionary reminder for today. Chicago 1968 recalls the events of three fateful days in late August that must never be forgotten. With original research, curated ephemera and fresh commentary, Nile Southern and Adam Cooper highlight their fathers’ distillation of this pivotal moment in American history, exploring the fault lines between reportage, activism and poetry.As the National Democratic Convention returns to Chicago this summer (2024), this book is more relevant than ever, particularly with the Democratic Party navigating its stance on Israel’s war on Gaza, and how forcefully the growingly disenchanted youth vote will express its demand for a peace candidate. Why we love this book... Chicago ‘68: The Calm Before the Storm documents the visual poetry, both in photos and written text, that is the Yippie Movement. We chose to publish this due to the timely nature of events mentioned in the book, as history often unfortunately repeats itself. Police brutality continues in prevalence, just as it did during the protests of 1968 at the Democratic Convention in Chicago. This piece of visual history includes never before seen photographs of the emotion, power, and intensity demonstrated during this time, and we are proud to publish this book at Genius Book Publishing, Inc.

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Barney Terrell

Cold Wrath $14.36 $17.95

"Cold Wrath: The 1896 Rampage of James C. Dunham" is a book that delves into a chilling crime from 125 years ago. On May 26, 1896, Jim Dunham killed six people, including his wife, her parents, his brother-in-law, and two farmhands. What remains a mystery even today is why he did it and why he spared his three-week-old son, leaving him beside his murdered mother. Back in those days, Santa Clara, California was a small farming community near San Francisco, and Jim Dunham was a family man with big dreams. But something went terribly wrong that spring, derailing his plans. We are certain that Jim Dunham committed these gruesome murders, but the unsettling truth is that we may never fully understand why. "Cold Wrath" by Barney Terrell takes us through the known facts, eyewitness accounts, the intense manhunt, and the enduring questions surrounding this horrifying event. Even after all these years, it's important to grasp the motivations that drove Jim Dunham to unleash his wrath upon his victims.

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Donald L. Redden PhD

Commitment to Courage - Second Edition $15.50

Sometimes the safe path isn’t the right one As a young man, Don Redden didn’t have big plans for his future beyond raising a family, a good career at General Electric, and making it through the Vietnam War alive. His plan was simple, honest, and safe. When Don’s tour of duty in the Army was over and he got home alive, it looked like he was on track to achieve everything he had set out to do. A chance encounter with an FBI agent led him to make a momentous decision and abandon the safe path he had set for himself. He would apply to join the FBI. This began the adventure of a lifetime. From bank robberies to kidnappings to murder, Don did what he had to, sometimes against protocol and sometimes against instinct, to protect those he could and bring justice for those he couldn’t.

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<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> <!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd"> <html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> <head> <title>Untitled</title> <meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"/> <style> /* ePub CSS */ h1, .h1 {padding-top: 15%;} .indent {text-indent: 5%;} .center {text-align: center;} .right {text-align: right;} .margin {margin: 0 5%;} .margin-indent {margin: 0 5%; text-indent: 5%;} .bigmargin {margin: 0 5% 0 10%;} .bigmargin-indent {margin: 0 5% 0 10%; text-indent: 5%;} .hugemargin {margin: 0 5% 0 15%;} .hugemargin-indent {margin: 0 5% 0 15%; text-indent: 5%;} img {max-width: 94%;} body {margin: 0 3%; text-align: justify;} .spacer {padding-bottom: 1em;} </style> </head> <body> <h1 id="c2">Chapter 1: Back to December</h1> <div class="spacer"></div> <div>A sense of dread tugged at my heart as I pulled into the narrow parking space of the Bowling World parking lot. I turned off the ignition as retired detectives Jay C. Rider and Chris Boyd looked up, acknowledging my arrival with a wave. “Well, here I am,” I said out loud as my shoes hit the pavement with a loud thud. I slammed my Suburban door shut and slowly made my way toward them. Even from across the parking lot their somber expressions told a story: The two men were standing in the very spot where Melissa Witt had parked her white Mitsubishi on that fateful December night in 1994.</div> <div class="indent">“Let’s get started,” Rider directed. He pointed at the stained and worn asphalt as we made eye contact. “This is it. This is where Melissa parked that night.”</div> <div class="indent">I scanned the pavement, almost expecting to see the bloodstains left behind from the blitz attack that had left Melissa Witt critically injured. I let out a gasp at the thought, and then immediately turned away from the detectives. I yanked at the oversized sunglasses that were perched on top of my head and quickly put them on in an attempt to hide the tears that were forming. “I’m…” my voice trailed off as I rapidly surveyed the expansive parking lot. “I’m stunned.”</div> <div class="indent">Boyd nodded. “It’s hard to believe that the son of a bitch attacked her in such close proximity to the building, isn’t it?” he barked.</div> <div class="indent">“He was bold,” I offered back.</div> <div class="indent">“That he was,” Rider added.</div> <div class="indent">As Rider and Boyd dove into a serious discussion about the details surrounding Melissa’s abduction and murder, I slipped away quietly. There was something I needed to do. With my head down, I slowly made my way to the entrance of Bowling World. “Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen…” I counted. How many steps had separated Melissa Witt from safety on the night she was attacked? “Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two.” I needed to know. At “forty-five” I stopped abruptly in front of the glass doors of Bowling World. “Forty-five steps away from safety.” My thoughts shifted into overdrive. Forty-five was also the number of days between the date of Melissa’s abduction—December 1, 1994—and the date her body was recovered in the Ozark National Forest—January 13, 1995.</div> <div class="indent">Unsettled by the strange coincidence, I bypassed the retired detectives and hurried back to my Suburban. Inside the safety of my SUV, I slumped down in the driver’s seat and reached for a notebook resting on the dashboard. Months earlier, I had carefully written the title “Witt Case” across its cover. I flipped through the pages before landing on what I was looking for—a crude outline of events from December 1, 1994:</div> <div class="indent">6:30-6:40pm—Witness hears a woman shouting “Help me” in the Bowling World parking lot. A young boy, Jeremy, was with his mother at the bowling alley that night. Jeremy reported leaving Bowling World to retrieve a book from his mother’s car. He heard a woman scream “Help! Help me!” Underneath the words “Help me” I had written: MELISSA WITT CALLS FOR HELP WHILE SHE IS ATTACKED in bold, red ink.</div> <div class="indent">Directly under those words I had also jotted down this note: Melissa Witt’s car keys were located in the parking lot of Bowling World at approximately 7:45pm. The keys were immediately turned in to the front desk inside the building. In the column to the left of these notes I had written: NOBODY noticed the blood spatter on Melissa’s keys.</div> <div class="indent">I stared at the words, willing an answer to suddenly appear among my copious notes. “Back to the beginning,” I whispered to myself. “If we want answers to this case, we need to go back to the beginning.”</div> <div class="indent">A knock on my window interrupted my train of thought. I rolled down the window when I saw Rider standing there. As usual, the exceptionally dressed retired detective was all business. “You coming?” Rider asked. “I want to walk through the timeline of events once again,” he said.</div> <div class="indent">I leaned across the console to place the notebook back in its original place on the dashboard.</div> <div class="indent">“I’m coming,” I assured him.</div> <div class="indent">“Good. I want to go back to the beginning.” My head snapped quickly back in Rider’s direction at the sound of his words.</div> <div class="indent">Astounded by the second strange coincidence of the morning, I responded by slowly repeating Rider’s own words back to him as I nodded: “Back to the beginning.”</div> <div class="center">?</div> <div class="spacer"></div> <div>As I drove home, Rider’s words continued to echo in my head. When I arrived at my office, I decided to once again take a closer look at the events that unfolded on the day Melissa disappeared. From all reports, the day started off routinely. She spent the first part of the morning with her mother, Mary Ann. The honor student would head to Westark Community College next. After that, she went to lunch at the Chick-fil-a in Central Mall with her friend, John, then off to her job as a dental assistant.</div> <div class="indent">Before she left that morning in 1994, Melissa had a minor disagreement with her mother. She had asked to borrow money, and Mary Ann, in an effort to teach her daughter money management, had told her no. Melissa and her mother were especially close. They shared the same beautiful smile, kind heart, and innocent outlook on life. So this argument, while minor, was unusual for them.</div> <div class="indent">Panged with guilt, before Mary Ann left for work that morning, she left a note for Melissa reminding her she would be bowling with her league that evening and offered to buy her a hamburger. She signed the note, “<i>Love, Mom.</i>”</div> <div class="indent">At five o’clock that evening, after clocking out of her job as a dental assistant, Melissa discovered that her 1995 Mitsubishi Mirage wouldn’t start. After trying to start the car a few times, Melissa gave up and waited with a co-worker until a local businessman, later dubbed the Good Samaritan, gave her car a jump.</div> <div class="indent">Police reports explain how Melissa’s dome light was left on by mistake, draining the car battery. Investigators tracked down the Good Samaritan and interviewed him multiple times before ultimately clearing him in the teenager’s disappearance and murder.</div> <div class="indent">“<i>People ask about the Good Samaritan all the time because those events leading up to Melissa’s abduction seem suspicious</i>,” Rider once explained.<i> “I mean, the Good Samaritan seems suspicious until you realize how many times he was questioned</i>. <i>He was cleared of any suspicion in Melissa’s murder</i>.”</div> <div class="indent">We know that, once Melissa’s car started, she went home to change out of her uniform. Those clothes were found crumpled on her bedroom floor. Mary Ann Witt was able to determine that her daughter had then donned a white V-neck sweater and jeans.</div> <div class="indent">Melissa must have seen her mom’s note, because authorities believe she headed to Bowling World, arriving between 6:30 and 7:00pm. She parked in the northwest corner of the lot, but she never made it inside. There were no cameras to record the events that unfolded in that parking lot that night. Witnesses would later tell police they heard a woman screaming “<i>Help me!</i>”</div> <div class="indent">Since Melissa never entered the bowling alley that night, her mother simply thought she had decided to go out with friends instead. Mary Ann went home expecting to see her daughter later that evening. Hours passed and Thursday slowly turned into Friday.</div> <div class="indent">At nine o’clock on Friday morning, Mary Ann reported Melissa as a missing person. When the patrolman took the report that December morning, one of the very first things he asked Melissa’s mother was if she and Melissa had argued. Mary Ann told him there had been a small dispute over money. Once he knew about the argument, according to Jay C. Rider, the officer chalked it up to a routine missing person situation. After all, Melissa was considered an adult and it wasn’t illegal for her to decide not to come home.</div> <div class="indent">However, Melissa’s friends and family knew that it was not like Melissa to take off without telling her mom where she would be. So by Saturday, Melissa’s friends and family were frantically passing out flyers, blanketing the River Valley with over 6,000 pleas for help in finding the missing teenager.</div> <div class="indent">Once news stations picked up the story on the search for Melissa Witt, the Fort Smith Police Major Crimes Unit, led by Jay C. Rider, asked to see the missing person report that had been filed. The report had little information. The patrolman knew little more than a 19-year-old girl didn’t come home after an argument with her mother. There was no evidence to suggest that Melissa had been abducted. The officer had seen this type of scenario play out hundreds of times before. He was certain Melissa would return home soon. Three days after the initial report of the teenage girl affectionately called “Missy” by her friends and family was marked as a “runaway case,” the tide shifted and the Fort Smith Major Crimes Unit had boots on the ground actively searching for the missing teen.</div> <div class="indent">Almost immediately, investigators received a shocking phone call from a bowling alley employee. This call would turn the Witt case upside down. The employee described how at approximately 7:45pm, a set of car keys were found in the parking lot and were turned in to the front desk of Bowling World. The keys held an important clue. The name spelled out on the keychain was “Missy.” Even more shocking, no one had noticed the spatters of blood that were slowly drying on the metal keys.</div> <div class="indent">Immediately, investigators began a search to find the person who turned in Melissa’s keys on December 1, 1994. After making repeated pleas in partnership with area news stations, after nearly two months, the construction worker who found the car keys came forward. Curtis McCormick had been working at a Tennessee construction site since he had turned in the keys and he had no idea about Melissa’s abduction until he returned home to Arkansas.</div> <div class="indent">After his arrival, McCormick’s brother was discussing the Witt case with him and that’s when the two realized that Curtis was the person police were looking for. When interviewed by investigators, McCormick described how he had spotted the keys when he was distracted by a car with its headlights left on when he arrived at the bowling alley sometime between 7:30 and 8:00 p.m. with his wife and teenage son. According to McCormick, he found the keys laying on the pavement where police later found Witt’s car abandoned.</div> <div class="indent">As I reviewed the details of Melissa’s disappearance over two decades later, I sat on the floor of my living room, poring over the news footage that captured Melissa’s friends and family distributing flyers with her smiling photo and identifying information. I could feel their sorrow. <i>Where is Melissa? </i>That question loomed with each news piece. I watched what started out as hopeful interviews with friends and family slowly turned into desperation, despair, and sadness. The answer to their most pressing question “Where is Melissa Witt” had an answer. Her friends and family just didn’t know it yet. December would slip quietly into January before the Ozark National Forest would give up the secret that was hidden amongst its dense trees and thorny undergrowth. Melissa Witt was dead. But the smiling faces of her friends and family in this early December news footage had no idea of the horrors that awaited.</div> <div class="indent">I closed my laptop and wondered aloud if Melissa’s killer had watched this same footage in the days after her disappearance. I envision him huddled on his mother’s expensive couch that cold December weekend, glued to the television, wondering if his terrible secret was safe. When I close my eyes, I can see his smug face, reliving every gruesome detail of Melissa’s murder. I imagine him running his murderous fingertips along the steel of her Mickey Mouse watch. I opened my eyes and reached for my iPhone. I opened the Facebook app and scrolled briefly until I found the profile of the man I believe is responsible for killing Melissa Witt. “There you are,” I say out loud as I enlarge his profile photo on my phone. I stare at his smiling face and steely eyes. <i>Did you do it?</i> I think to myself. <i>Did you kill Melissa Witt?</i></div> <div class="indent">I close the Facebook app as Jay C. Rider’s words from our meeting in the bowling alley parking lot flood my mind. “<i>Back to the Beginning</i>,” he had said. Instinctively, I grabbed one of my notebooks. This one, titled “December 2016,” stored a wrinkled copy of an email I had received on December 28, 2016. The one sentence email packed a punch: “<i>Probably not relevant, but my old college roommate told me he was meeting Melissa the night she disappeared.” </i>He had no way of knowing it at the time, but this email was beyond relevant. It turns out, his college roommate knew Melissa Witt. Stranger still, his college roommate had actively been contacting me about the Melissa Witt case.</div> <div class="indent">I sank back into the worn and cracked leather of my black office chair and thought back to a description of the Bowling World parking lot given by law enforcement regarding that cold December night. Despite the fact that the dark bowling alley was teeming with cars, there was very little activity happening outside. Inside, however, Bowling World was bustling with bowlers, friends sharing a beer after work, and kids playing video games or pool. The empty parking lot provided the perfect opportunity for a 19-year-old girl to be spirited away under the cloak of darkness.</div> <div class="indent">Like a predator carefully stalking his prey, he watched and waited. His eyes intensely focused on her every move as an unsuspecting Melissa parked her 1995 Mitsubishi Mirage, turned off the engine, and stepped out into the shadows of the Bowling World parking lot. Suddenly, Melissa is caught off guard. She looks up in a mix of fear and surprise. But it’s too late. His sharp eyes are locked on the target. He is ready to strike. And then, it happens. The hunter makes his move.</div> <div class="spacer"></div> <div class="spacer"></div> </body> </html>

LaDonna Humphrey

Connected by Fate $15.50 $17.95

Connected by Fate unfolds against the haunting backdrop of the Ozark National Forest, where the unresolved murder of Melissa Witt has cast a long shadow over the dense woodlands for almost three decades. The mystery, woven into the fabric of the remote mountaintop, has become a part of the lore of the land, with the true identity of the murderer eluding capture, concealed by the forest's imposing presence. Enter LaDonna Humphrey, driven by a profound sense of justice and a personal commitment to uncovering the truth, despite never having met Melissa Witt. LaDonna's connection to the case transcends the ordinary, fueling her with a relentless determination that has defined her life for almost a decade.LaDonna's investigation is a riveting narrative of courage, resilience, and an unwavering pursuit of truth in the face of overwhelming odds. Each breakthrough and setback, each clue unearthed and lead followed, draws her deeper into a web of intrigue that extends far beyond the initial crime.Connected by Fate is more than a true crime story; it's a testament to the power of human spirit and determination fueled by the knowledge that solving Melissa's murder is not just about bringing a killer to justice—it's about restoring dignity to a life cut tragically short, and offering closure to a community haunted by the specter of an unsolved crime.

Steven W. Booth

Continuity $19.95

Carlos San Sebastián wants nothing more from life than spending time in the company of beautiful women, gambling, seeking adventure, and generally enjoying himself. However, he is also the heir to the patriarchy of his family of time-travellers, a fate he would do nearly anything to avoid. When Carlos is summoned to the family residence in the middle of the deal of his lifetime, he can see his opportunity to thwart fate slipping away.What Carlos finds at the residence is worse than any responsibility he ever contemplated. His father is inexplicably murdered out of continuity, six years before Carlos is born. It is up to Carlos to prevent the murder and protect the family.Carlos is no detective and hardly skilled as a time traveller, but with less than 24 hours to thwart the murder, he must seek the help of the one person his father demanded not be involved: his estranged sister, Monique.As the clock ticks on, Carlos and Monique must unravel the secrets of their family and time travel itself. Continuity takes the reader on an exploration of the laws of time travel and through the psychology of a family capable of anything.

Mercury Media llc

CSNY Discography Grid $2.00

These information documents for each of the official Trade Mark of Quality releases includes the known details for each genuine TMQ title. This includes the TMQ catalogue number, artist, record title, track list, musicians, venue, recording date, master tape and record matrix info and the other particulars for each album.

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Mercury Media llc

David Bowie Discography Grids $2.00

These information documents for each of the official Trade Mark of Quality releases includes the known details for each genuine TMQ title. This includes the TMQ catalogue number, artist, record title, track list, musicians, venue, recording date, master tape and record matrix info and the other particulars for each album.

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Mercury Media llc

David Crosby Discography Grid $2.00

These information documents for each of the official Trade Mark of Quality releases includes the known details for each genuine TMQ title. This includes the TMQ catalogue number, artist, record title, track list, musicians, venue, recording date, master tape and record matrix info and the other particulars for each album.

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Bob Bossin

Davy the Punk $17.95

In Davy the Punk, Bob Bossin tells the story of his father’s life in the gambling underworld of the 1930s and ‘40s. This sometimes poignant, sometimes outrageous memoir of father and son is packed with streetwise stories and troubling revelations about Canada and the United States as they were in the first half of the twentieth century. In the 1930s, Davy Bossin was known in the underworld as “Davy the Punk.” He was the “bookies’ bookie,” a layoff man who connected Toronto to the betting rackets in New York, Chicago, Detroit, and elsewhere. Davy’s colleagues and friends were some of the top outlaws in America. A consummate storyteller, Davy often regaled his pals with tales of horse-racing, the mob, and the equally gritty underside of show business. Eagerly taking it all in was his son Bobby, who would grow up to become indie-music pioneer Bob Bossin. By turns funny, insightful, and moving, Davy the Punk is the story of horse racing, the Great Migration, antisemitism, baseball, gambling, show biz, and most of all, fathers and sons.

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Patrick Shattuck

Dawn's Web $15.50

Dawn is a rebellious girl skilled in secrecy. Zander is a sullen boy armed with a fiery temper. Dr. Duncan Bright treats patients who invent lovers, struggle with addiction, and constantly challenge and berate him. His dedication to guiding his clients through the turmoil of life is tested when he meets teenagers Dawn and Zander—their escalating violence and erratic behavior become his greatest challenge. When a body is found in Central Park, Dawn and Zander are the prime suspects, and the police come to the psychologist for his insight. As he is drawn deeper into the investigation, his professional and personal lives become jeopardized. Dawn’s Web, a gritty, page-turning psychological thriller, explores the twisted minds of Dr. Bright’s patients, the motives of murderers, and his own flawed intentions.

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Dead End: Inside the Hunt for the I-70 Serial Killer

<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> <!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd"> <html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> <head> <title>Untitled</title> <meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"/> <style> /* ePub CSS */ h1 {padding-top: 15%;} .indent {text-indent: 5%;} .center {text-align: center;} .right {text-align: right;} .margin {margin: 0 5%;} .margin-indent {margin: 0 5%; text-indent: 5%;} .bigmargin {margin: 0 5% 0 10%;} .bigmargin-indent {margin: 0 5% 0 10%; text-indent: 5%;} .hugemargin {margin: 0 5% 0 15%;} .hugemargin-indent {margin: 0 5% 0 15%; text-indent: 5%;} img {max-width: 94%;} body {margin: 0 3%; text-align: justify;} .spacer {padding-bottom: 1em;} </style> </head> <body> <h1 id="c6">CHAPTER 1</h1> <div><b>“And then I started wondering, was Robin really the first? Could there have been others before her?”</b></div> <div class="spacer"></div> <div class="indent">The phone rings every April 8 in Susan Fuldauer’s Indianapolis home. She will pause what she is doing, look at the incoming number, glance quickly at the calendar, and smile. Mike Crooke never, ever forgets.</div> <div class="indent">“I just pick up the phone every April 8 and I call her,” Crooke says. “And I say to her ‘Hey Susan, I am not calling you because I have some good news to report about.’ It is more like ‘Hey Susan, I have not forgotten about you, your family or your sister Robin, and I never will. I am still out here plugging away. I am still out here trying to do my best.’ I always call her on the anniversary of that day and just remind her that she and her family are still in my thoughts, and they always will be.”</div> <div class="indent">Crooke, the longtime sergeant of the Indianapolis Police Department, has remembered since April 8, 1992, the day the Robin Fuldauer nightmare began. He is long since retired, but he has never, ever forgotten.</div> <div class="spacer"></div> <div class="center">***</div> <div class="spacer"></div> <div class="indent">November 2021. Our crew left St. Louis in the early morning and headed east, photographer Chuck Delaney driving, producer JJ Bailey riding shotgun, and me in the backseat taking notes of the scenery along Interstate 70. As we drive along the highway I picture in my mind what the killer saw 30 years ago. Pick an exit to get off, quickly find a small store in a strip mall, make sure a woman is working alone, get in and get out without being seen, and leave a body behind. Surely it is not that easy. It simply can’t be.</div> <div class="indent">Our first stop, like the killer’s, was Indianapolis. Interstate 70 east through Indy to the 465 loop, then a quick jaunt north. The killer wasn’t patient, he took the first possible exit, Pendleton Pike. He could have headed east or west. He could have picked any woman, anywhere, to kill. He chose to turn left at the light and go west. And then he immediately had options to kill on both his right and left. He picked the Payless shoe store.</div> <div class="indent">The Indianapolis police detectives still working the Robin Fuldauer case were waiting for us when we arrived. Like other major cities, Indianapolis had seen a huge spike in homicide cases recently. Their staff was spread thin trying to solve not only murders that seemed to be happening daily, but cold cases that had piled up over the years. Clearance rates, or rates of solving homicides, ranged around 50 percent. That meant hundreds of unsolved cases piled up each year. After 30 years, an unsolved homicide is often a file, in a box, in a closet, never to be opened again.</div> <div class="indent">“We have thousands of unsolved cases over the years,” said Captain Roger Spurgeon of the Indianapolis Police Department. “And more are coming every week. It is overwhelming. You do the best you can do, and then another case lands on your desk.”</div> <div class="indent">Spurgeon and I looked around the busy Pendleton Pike area and I knew we were reading each other’s minds: The killer could have stopped anywhere.</div> <div class="indent">“Why here, do you think?” I voiced to the detectives. “He could have stopped anywhere. Why do you think he stopped here?”</div> <div class="indent">The men looked at each other and shook their heads. A question that has never been answered here, or at any of the other crime scenes.</div> <div class="indent">“This would be one of the last places you would think he would strike,” said Columbus Ricks, one of the Indianapolis detectives. “Look at how busy this area is.”</div> <div class="indent">But Spurgeon guessed there was a method in the killer’s madness. “I think there would have been a variety of stores for him to choose from in the area,” Spurgeon said. “It was just a matter of whatever our suspect was looking for at the time. You have all of this busy traffic around this area, all of this movement, all of these people coming and going so quickly. Unless somebody really stood out to someone as behaving oddly or looking oddly, you could really go about your business with relative anonymity and nobody would ever really pay you any attention.”</div> <div class="indent">I pointed to the busy Speedway gas station that was literally steps from the Payless shoe store. Customers were filling their tanks, and numerous people were coming and going inside the store by the minute.</div> <div class="indent">“Was the gas station there in 1992?” I asked Spurgeon.</div> <div class="indent">He nodded yes.</div> <div class="indent">“That does not make any sense,” I said. “You would have to be a fool to kill somebody with this many potential witnesses around.”</div> <div class="indent">Ricks and fellow detective David Ellison both laughed.</div> <div class="indent">Spurgeon nodded again. “Welcome to the world of the I-70 serial killer where nothing makes any sense.”</div> <div class="indent">I walked up to the front door of the gas station, and then took a few steps to the Payless store. It took me less than 20 seconds. Ellison and Ricks stood alongside Spurgeon and watched me make the walk.</div> <div class="indent">“Twenty seconds,” I hollered at them. “No way somebody is killing somebody with all of these people just 20 seconds away.”</div> <div class="indent">I looked at Spurgeon again. He nodded and I shook my head. “No way,” I muttered to myself.</div> <div class="indent">I kept walking between the gas station and shoe store, and then returned to the detectives.</div> <div class="indent">“Let me make sure I have this right,” I said. “He somehow chooses this busy location in the middle of the day. Then he kills Robin with all these people around. And then what, he just disappears?”</div> <div class="indent">“Pretty much,” said Ellison. “Pretty much.”</div> <div class="indent">Robin Fuldauer was not sure where life was taking her yet, but she was moving very quickly. She was the salutatorian of her Lawrence Central High School class, located just down the street from the Payless shoe store. She graduated a few years later from Indiana University. And now she had already risen to become a manager for Payless.</div> <div class="indent">Sometime around 1pm on that April day, a serial killer was about to embark on a month-long journey, one that would take him to five cities, leaving six body bags behind. He was patrolling Pendleton Pike Road, looking for his first victim.</div> <div class="indent">Receipts from the store show the last purchase was made at 1:12pm. Police believe the killer was likely in the store at the time, saw the only other customer leave, and then made his move. He forced Fuldauer into a storage room in the back of the store, made her kneel, then shot her twice in the back of the head, execution style, with a .22 caliber handgun. There was no sign of any struggle inside the store. The killer then rummaged through the cash register, taking less than $100. Police believe he left through a back door by 1:30pm, leaving Fuldauer lying dead behind a closed door. For the next hour, Payless customers would have their run of the store, with nobody in sight.</div> <div class="indent">“I don’t believe there was an opportunity for anybody to go inside the store and observe that there was a body there,” Spurgeon said.</div> <div class="indent">The Payless store had little in the way of store security. Just a bell that would ring when a new customer arrived.</div> <div class="indent">Police records showed a woman named Lucretia Gullett was working at the Speedway gas station the day Fuldauer was killed. It was Gullett who discovered Robin’s body and called police.</div> <div class="indent">Before arriving in Indianapolis, I began the task of searching for Lucretia Gullet.</div> <div class="indent">“Is this Lucretia Gullet?” I asked the woman on the other end of the phone.</div> <div class="indent">“It is,” she said.</div> <div class="indent">“Ma’am,” I said, “I am a reporter working on a serial killer from 1992. And I believe you found the body of his first victim. A woman named Robin Fuldauer in the Payless shoe store.”</div> <div class="indent">Gullett paused on the other end. “I did not really find her body. But yes, I was there, and I called the police. But what did you say about a serial killer?”</div> <div class="indent">I told Gullett her Payless killer went on to kill numerous other women across the country.</div> <div class="indent">“What?!” she screamed into the phone.</div> <div class="indent">And I realized she was unaware. “Do you still live around Indy?” I asked her.</div> <div class="indent">“I do,” she said.</div> <div class="indent">“I am coming to town,” I told her. “Would you meet with me?”</div> <div class="indent">“I will,” she said. “And did you say serial killer?” Apparently, she was still coming to grips with this.</div> <div class="indent">I stood by the Speedway gas station with my crew and the police detectives, and watched as a woman parked her car and walked toward us.</div> <div class="indent">“I am looking for Bob,” she said.</div> <div class="indent">“Hi Lucretia,” I said, and we shook hands.</div> <div class="indent">We began walking around the area. “This brings back a lot of memories,” she said.</div> <div class="indent">“Have you been back here since…?” I asked.</div> <div class="indent">“No,” she said as she looked around. “Thirty years is a long time. I just avoided coming around here.”</div> <div class="indent">I asked Gullett to take me back to that day, as best she could.</div> <div class="indent">“My shift at the Speedway gas station was ending at 3pm. I was almost getting off work to go home when I received a phone call from a man who said he was the district manager of the Payless store. It was probably around 2pm,” Gullett remembered. “He told me that he had been calling the shoe store for quite a while, but that no one was answering the phone there. He was really concerned, so I told him I would go next door to Payless and see what was going on over there.”</div> <div class="indent">Gullett and I made the 20 second walk from one store to the other. “What happened when you walked in?” I asked.</div> <div class="indent">Gullett paused at the door. “This is hard,” she said. “I walked up to the front door, opened it up and looked around. I did not see anybody. No manager, no customers. I looked over to the left and noticed that the cash register was open and then I went through the aisles, but nobody was around. I really was not sure what was going on, but I knew it was not right. Then I heard someone talking in the back of the store, so I went back there and I saw a woman who had a child with her. They were looking at some shoes. I asked her to please leave, and told her something was wrong. I did not know what was happening, but I knew something was wrong. So I just immediately stopped looking around and called the police. I was probably only in the store for about 10 minutes. And then I just waited for the police to arrive.”</div> <div class="indent">Police records show they arrived at the scene around 3pm. When they did, Gullett said she then stood watch over the front door while detectives made their way inside. She watched them search the store before heading towards the back. And then she saw them open a closed door and look inside.</div> <div class="indent">“One officer looked down to the right,” Gullett said, “and I could tell he was shocked at what he saw.”</div> <div class="indent">Incredibly, some 30 years after Robin Fuldauer was murdered, Gullett says she was not aware the homicide scene she walked into three decades ago became linked to a serial killer, or that it was not solved all these years earlier. “I just became aware of that when you called me,” she said.</div> <div class="indent">“You did not follow the case over the years as it exploded?” I asked.</div> <div class="indent">“No,” she said. “I was shocked when you told me it was a serial killer. I was like, whoa! That is when I put two and two together, and like, wow!”</div> <div class="indent">Brought back to the scene, and meeting new detectives for the first time. Gullett is now spending time detailing the case to police again.</div> <div class="indent">“They wanted to know if there was anything else I ever came up with or thought about.” And then she winked and smiled. “Maybe. Maybe. It might just be a coincidence. But yes, I hope I can help.”</div> <div class="spacer"></div> <div class="center">***</div> <div class="spacer"></div> <div class="indent">Roger Spurgeon was an Indianapolis police officer at the time of Robin Fuldauer’s murder, not yet working in homicide. Now, he has been with the police department more than 25 years, most of them in the homicide unit. He would inherit the Fuldauer case, and says that in spite of the busy area, and in spite of the busy time of the day, early leads in the case quickly fizzled. “At first, because there was a small amount of cash taken, detectives thought it was likely a robbery that somehow turned into a homicide. They had a variety of potential suspects they were looking at in the very beginning. But If you describe a suspect as somebody you really have a keen interest in because of some sort of an evidentiary link or eyewitnesses, no, there was nothing there which stood out to the investigators at that time.”</div> <div class="indent">Detectives immediately began canvassing the area on Pendleton Pike. The first witness they found was the store manager at MAB paint, across the street from the Payless, He told police he saw a strange looking man carrying a long bag. The witness said he watched the man repeatedly circling the Payless store, and then watched as the man sat down at a curb nearby for nearly 30 minutes. And then around 2pm, he suddenly disappeared from sight. The witness told police the man appeared to either be on drugs or had a mental problem.</div> <div class="indent">Police would only locate less than a half dozen potential witnesses. One of them said they saw a man who matched what the earlier witness said calmly trying to hitch a ride along the highway. Police found a couple of other witnesses in the area who thought they saw something, but none of those leads panned out.</div> <div class="indent">Detective Columbus Ricks is part of the Indianapolis Unsolved Homicide Unit. Like Spurgeon, he was also an Indianapolis police officer at the time of the Fuldauer murder. “The homicide investigators tracked down almost everybody that was said to have seen something in the area or had been seen by someone. They all had enough of an alibi to eliminate them. The descriptions of the suspect were all black males…” Ricks said, shaking his head. “And within days, after Wichita, the detectives knew the killer was a white male.”</div> <div class="indent">I looked at Ricks and laughed. “How stupid,” I said.</div> <div class="indent">“Not as easy as it seems on TV,” Ricks laughed again.</div> <div class="indent">And then came the question: How did the killer get away? How did he simply walk out of the store in the middle of the day, with people all around, and disappear into thin air?</div> <div class="indent">“I think he could have easily parked a vehicle on one of these residential side streets and casually walked to it,” Spurgeon said. “And nobody would have paid any attention to him unless he was acting strangely. Obviously, he had to have some sort of wheels to get from point A to point B. But we still do not have a good handle on that. Detectives had a lot of different theories at the time.”</div> <div class="indent">Our crew walked around the area near the store. Busy streets in front, a side street on the side, and an older residential section behind it. Spurgeon appeared to be on target. The most likely answer was the killer parked a car on one of the residential streets, walked calmly to the Payless store, murdered Robin Fuldauer, and then walked back to his car.</div> <div class="indent">Time moves forward. Today, a Batteries Plus store sits where the Payless Shoe store stood in 1992. But what has not changed is that police departments in five cities are still digging, talking to each other, and hoping for a DNA match.</div> <div class="indent">“Science was not as developed then as it is now,” said Ricks. “We are going to see if DNA and new technology can assist us in solving this case.” Ricks added that another new witness may have recently emerged. Until then, we wait. The police. The families. Everyone. And they all understand that they are waiting for an answer that may never come.</div> <div class="indent">Robin’s sister Susan will never forget that day. You can still hear the sadness in her voice. “My husband found out about Robin first. He came home and told me. It was just so incredibly hard to process. It was something completely out of the realm of expectations. I immediately went to pick up my daughter and then we went to the Payless store. There was so much activity at the scene it was hard to believe. It is just a nightmare that you live through and cannot possibly process. It is just very hard to describe.”</div> <div class="indent">And then just a few days later, the bombshell of Wichita came, where 700 miles away and just three days after Robin Fuldauer was murdered, Patricia Magers and Patricia Smith were killed in the same fashion. And almost immediately, police were hit with a stunning reality: The same gun used in Indianapolis was used in Wichita. It seemed impossible with the time frame. But, suddenly, Indianapolis and Wichita had a serial killer on their hands.</div> <div class="indent">“Then it all became just surreal,” Susan said. “Wichita was connected to my Robin? And again, look at the pattern. So cold blooded. Another busy, noisy store. And then the others soon came rolling in. And then I started wondering, was Robin really the first? Could there have been others before her? This was now totally beyond belief. And then our family began grieving not just for Robin, but for all of these other families going through the same exact nightmare that we were going through.”</div> <div class="indent">There is another heartbreaking twist of fate to Robin’s story. She was not supposed to work that day, but another employee called in sick. The Payless store was short-staffed, so Robin came in to cover the shift, as she had so many times before.</div> <div class="indent">After all these years, one thought keeps sticking in Susan’s mind. “I know you cannot turn the clock back. But I usually went by Robin’s store on most days after I got off of work, just to make sure she was okay. For some reason, I did not go by that day. And I always ask myself, ‘Could I have possibly done something? Could I have possibly stopped something?’”</div> <div class="indent">Susan Fuldauer is realistic about the chances of finding the killer after all these years. But she says she will always remain hopeful. “We have always maintained hope that Robin’s murder will someday be solved. Maybe the killer is in jail somewhere. Maybe he is no longer alive. But, like the detectives tell us, we have new technology now. We have new DNA techniques. We have hope. It does not bring Robin or the other victims back. But to know that he might be stopped, and he can never do anything like this again, that would be a major victory for our family.”</div> <div class="indent">Mike Crooke, who has seen everything in his 52 years in law enforcement, insists the case can someday be solved. “I am still hopeful we will resolve this. We did not have the advances in science 30 years ago that we have now.”</div> <div class="indent">Robin Fuldauer was 26 years old. She was the first known victim of the I-70 serial killer. And while it all began in Indy, sadly, it did not end there. And on April 8, pick a year, any year, Mike Crooke will pick up the phone and call Susan Fuldauer. She will smile. They will talk. And they will cry. “It is so kind and considerate of Mike to reach out to my family,” Susan said. “He reminds us that Robin will never ever be forgotten. I appreciate that so very much. We do not talk about the what ifs, because this was such a heinous crime. It is just very comforting to know that Mike remembers us each year. That amount of kindness is really wonderful and will never be forgotten.”</div> <div class="spacer"></div> <div class="spacer"></div> </body> </html>

Bob Cyphers

Dead End: Inside the Hunt for the I-70 Serial Killer $15.50

In 1992, a store clerk was found shot to death in broad daylight at the Boot Village in St. Charles, Missouri. Nothing was stolen and there was no sexual assault. This bizarre and seemingly isolated murder was quickly connected with others in Indianapolis, Wichita, Terre Haute, and Raytown. The media dubbed the suspect “The I-70 Serial Killer.” He has never been captured, and the story quickly fell out of the media’s attention. But the cases never went cold for the officers in those cities. In 2021, with the advancements in DNA, St. Charles Police Captain Raymond Floyd launched a task force, bringing all jurisdictions together along with federal agencies to take one final crack at solving the crimes. The task force selected Bob Cyphers of KMOV-TV to follow them along, city by city, in the hunt for the killer. Cyphers and his KMOV crew produced a seven-part award winning series called “Chasing the I-70 Serial Killer.” Their work led to national exposure of the case in People magazine and on the Discovery Channel, winning an Edward R. Murrow Award and being nominated for an Emmy. Dead End: Inside the Hunt for the I-70 Serial Killer follows on the work done by the task force with the important goal of keeping the story alive in the public eye. New evidence, never before available to the public, is revealed here, with the hopes of triggering a memory or revealing a new lead. The task force may be closed, but the drive to find this killer is alive and well. Anyone who may have information about the case should contact the I-70 hotline at 1-800-800-3510.

Chris Westphal

Deadlines $15.95

As editor of the Empire City Dispatch—a struggling twice-weekly newspaper in coastal Oregon—former investigative journalist Jack Teller thinks he’s found refuge from his traumatic past, until he discovers the body of the outcast scion of the region’s most powerful family, Jesse McLennon. Tragic events closer to home force Teller to delve more deeply into Jesse’s life and death. Teller quickly finds himself in conflict with the McLennons, who will stop at nothing to maintain their positions of power and respect. Dark and brooding, Deadlines evokes the mist-shrouded Oregon Coast as Jack Teller is drawn into a plot of deception and revenge, and reckons with his own troubled past.

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Kimberly Croft

Dear Prudence $15.50

As the campaign manager for Senator Alex Conrad, Prudence Romain must go to any lengths to hide her past. As Senator Conrad prepares for a presidential run, Prudence can’t fight her feelings for him any longer. Despite the difference in their ages, she is shocked when he confesses his love for her as well. But their simple love affair is made infinitely more complex—and dangerous—when their relationship is made public. The press, the opposing candidate, and even Senator Conrad’s ex want to destroy their relationship. Their love can withstand the pressure, but can his bid for the presidency survive the truth?

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Mercury Media llc

Deep Purple Discography Grids $2.00

These information documents for each of the official Trade Mark of Quality releases includes the known details for each genuine TMQ title. This includes the TMQ catalogue number, artist, record title, track list, musicians, venue, recording date, master tape and record matrix info and the other particulars for each album.

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Nova West

Devil's Playground: God's country has blood on its hands $15.50

A young pregnant mother is killed, and a small town demands justice, a conviction, someone to blame. When an unlikely suspect is convicted, it raises a question: Is this the culprit, a scapegoat, or a martyr? This question prompted a mother and daughter to go beyond the official version to search for the truth. As they delved deeper into the story of this murder and conviction, they found themselves asking, how many victims came out of this tragedy, and how many perpetrators? Why did it feel like everyone involved had blood on their hands but the person convicted of this horrible crime? So, crack a cold beer, sleuths, and follow along as we search for clues and question everything. The truth could be around any corner. In this devil’s playground, no one is completely innocent. A great mystery awaits. Join us in our search for the killer.

Richard Buz Williams

Dilemma $15.50

It’s 1975 and rookie cop Edward One patrols the streets of Long Beach, California. As he gains experience as a police officer, he finds himself dealing with dangerous criminals as well as outrageously funny scenarios, learning from some of the best—and worst—officers the Long Beach Police Department has to offer. Edward One is dedicated to Truth, justice, and the law, which are not always in harmony.During this time, a twisted and violent predator who calls himself The Skulker grows deadlier with each attack. When The Skulker arrives in Long Beach, he crosses paths with Edward One, and the results are as surprising as they are deadly.Dilemma tells the captivating tale of the dangers and joys of police work in the ‘70s, and provides an insight into the corrupted thinking of a killer.

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