D. A. Ratliff
Bio
A Southerner with saltwater in her veins, Deborah lives in the Florida sun and writes murder mysteries. She is published in several anthologies and her first novel, Crescent City Lies, is scheduled for release in 2024.
Stories (73/0)
Fix This
Fix This D. A. Ratliff The dragonfly landed on a budding branch, glanced around, then flitted away as I wished I could. I watched the diaphanous winged creature fly toward the next perch as the chatter from the garden party guests returned to my head. Time to join the real world again, if one could call this pretentious gathering orchestrated by an equally pretentious man–my father–real.
By D. A. Ratliffabout a year ago in Fiction
The Tower Talks
The Tower Talks D. A. Ratliff “If walls could talk.” How many times a day does someone say that? I have lost count because I quit counting quite a long time ago. Let me introduce myself, I am the White Tower, and when I tell you I have seen it all, I am not exaggerating. Allow me to tell you my story.
By D. A. Ratliffabout a year ago in Fiction
Sacred Ground
Sacred Ground D. A. Ratliff The twin suns of the Icai system were beginning to peek over the horizon as Renata Ledger raced toward the ancient viaduct. Since arriving on the planet, when she was twelve years old, she had met the sunrise on the ancient bridge. Running to the highest point, she stopped, dropped her backpack, leaned on the stone ledge, and watched the orbs rise, one slightly behind the other, and bring light to the day.
By D. A. Ratliffabout a year ago in Fiction
Follow the Footsteps
Follow the Footsteps D. A. Ratliff My quarry sat across the open dining area, holding court with his main henchman, a couple of beauties, and a few locals. I have to say—if I were going to flee from authorities, an island in the South Pacific would be the place to go. Add in a country with no extradition agreement with the United States, and it’s just about perfect.
By D. A. Ratliffabout a year ago in Fiction
Tied With Twine
Tied With Twine D. A. Ratliff A Detective Elijah Boone Mystery Louisa DeLong wrapped her arms around her, pulling her sweater tighter against her slender body. Mist floated in the air, obscuring the trees as she made her way along the Bayou Lafourche in the early morning hours. The note clutched in her hand instructed her to meet him south of Lockport on LA-1 and park behind his truck. He would wait for her along the banks of the bayou.
By D. A. Ratliffabout a year ago in Fiction
The Neighborhood
The Neighborhood D. A. Ratliff A Detective Elijah Boone Mystery Mama Leone set the plate of Spaghetti Pomodoro on the table with all the flourish of a waiter in a five-star restaurant, certainly not at a family restaurant in a semi-residential neighborhood of New Orleans. Since leaving the Navy, where I served as an MP, I relocated to New Orleans and joined the NOLA police department. As a rookie officer, I spent many hours on the streets in this community among the shotgun and garden houses, small businesses, and docks along the Mississippi River. I grew to love the area so much that I bought a house, married, and planned to raise a family here. Still have the house, but not the family.
By D. A. Ratliffabout a year ago in Fiction
Going Home
Going Home D. A. Ratliff I hadn’t planned on going there. Fate brought me to speak at a seminar in my home state, and the fact that I was only an hour’s drive from my old homestead gnawed at me. I tried to push it away, but the itch was there and needed attention.
By D. A. Ratliff3 years ago in Fiction
The Mug
"The Mug" By D. A. Ratliff I hadn’t been here in a long time. Not since my grandfather’s funeral, when my father had the funeral director swing by as we returned from the gravesite. My dad told us to stay in the car as he exited, brand new padlock in hand. He strode with a purpose to the building, pulled away the crime scene tape, and padlocked the latch at the top of the wooden door. Just as purposefully, he returned to the limo and announced, “No one will enter there again.”
By D. A. Ratliff3 years ago in Criminal
“Grann’s Secret”
“Grann’s Secret” Deborah A. Ratliff The tinkle of a bell attached to the door frame announced her arrival. Intense aromas from bins of fragrant herbs and incense assaulted Veronique Bergeron’s senses, and memories of her childhood hiding in the nooks and crannies of her grandmother’s Bourbon Street voodoo shop swept over her. Memories she had long repressed.
By D. A. Ratliff3 years ago in Families