Originally Pressed Mysteries
DOUBLETRBLDADDY I pulled the rental into the parking lot of Able’s Plumbing in Alexandria and spotted Jeremiah standing behind a small, white cargo van. If I was wondering why he’d called twenty minutes earlier and told me to meet him here, this answered none of my questions. Thankfully, experience had taught me that asking Jeremiah for … Read more
My father stood with both hands resting on the edge of the open hood, staring into the engine compartment of the truck in the Ecklund Chevrolet lot. “Well?” I asked. He didn’t answer right away. He leaned a little closer, studying whatever he could see beneath the plastic covers and wiring. “There’s a lot going … Read more
The old Ford sat off to the side of Swede’s garage, far enough from the other vehicles that I assumed Terrence had put it there deliberately. It was a 1970 F-100, the kind of truck that looked like a truck because nobody had thought to make it look like anything else. Long hood, single cab, … Read more
There was another albino deer sighting yesterday, out by the golf course. Kerry Langer walked into Family Foods to grab a sandwich at the Deli and couldn’t stop talking about it. He’d seen it, he said. White as snow, moving through the trees at the edge of the course. Beautiful. Unmistakable. I wouldn’t call Kerry … Read more
A Boulder of A Problem I was behind the counter, reading the letter for the third time. It was handwritten, which was unusual enough, the return address, Boulder, Colorado. A woman named Margaret Ellison had penned it, on behalf of her elderly father, who was looking to sell his collection. She’d heard about my tiny … Read more
People often assume Tony DeLucca is the hardest character for me to write. After all, he’s the narrator of the Originally Pressed series. He’s the one carrying the story, asking the questions, and trying to make sense of the mysteries unfolding around him. But the truth is, Tony is a piece of cake. That’s probably … Read more
There’s a particular kind of patience that comes with living in a small town. Not the restless kind of patience of someone waiting for something to happen, but rather the quiet acceptance that things will happen when they’re meant to, and rushing won’t change the timeline. You see this most clearly on Jefferson Street on … Read more
If you’ve spent any time in Minnesota, you’ve noticed something about how we name our lakes. We’re not particularly creative about it. Someone looked at the water and said, “Well, that’s a big lake,” and Big Lake got its name. A few counties over, a similar conversation was had. One person threw out a suggestion. … Read more
Sometime in May, they come back. You won’t see them at first, they’ll be out on the lake, too far away to make out clearly. But you’ll hear them. That call, the one that sounds like someone laughing in the dark, like joy and loneliness mixed together in a way only a loon can manage. … Read more
One of a Midwesterner’s favorite topics is the weather. If you’ve spent more than a few minutes in Minnesota, you’ve probably realized the weather can change on a dime. There’s an old saying, “If you don’t like the weather, wait fifteen minutes.” Whether the saying is true is open for debate, but it certainly gives … Read more