The Muddled Mystery of the Murdered Muse is a full-length novel, presented to you in Medium-sized chapters twice a week (Tuesday and Friday), that tells the story of Sebastian Holden, a paranoirmal investigator who solves the strangest cases this side of Jersey City and Brooklyn.

If you missed the previous chapter, read it here; if you’ve already read this chapter, read the next one here.


He was on the run from the whole world –– literally!

That’s the kind of headache the espionage business can create, if it wants to. Or if it gets tired of a particular agent who needs a vacation but refuses to take one. Because he’s become more trouble than he is troubleshooter, regardless of how hot a shot he’s become.
So they send the vacation after him. They shoot the trouble.
Or, if you did something wrong and it ended up compromising a particular mission you were tasked with completing by whatever means necessary, that would be enough to get the whole world pounding down after a pound of flesh at the back of your head in the form of a silencer attached to a Big Bang with your name carved on the bullet that longed to blind date with your brain.
U.S. Agent codenamed “The Spook” –– no one ever knew his real name ‘cept for former CIA director William Colby –– eventually couldn’t tell which mission he was on after a while because he was getting assigned to so many of them all at once. Truth be told, he was taking on too many of them, and to say that about a guy who was engineered by the U.S. Government to be able to bend space and time, literally be in two places at once, is saying along. Needless to say, spreading himself as this as he had been spreading himself got him quite confused. He started whacking the wrong people for the wronger people. One day, The Spook was living la vie en Paris, and the next he was reactivated for a mission to gather intel in North Korea while at the same time being sent off to Ukraine to quell political tensions stretching to their thinnest layer while refugees were being moved from one country they hoped to call home to another.

But never to his country. Never to the U.S. of good ol’ A..

How was it he could he be in two or more places at once, you ask? Well, that’s why they codenamed him “The Spook” –– ’cause for all intents and purposes, he was a spook. A specter. A straight up ghost. Not in the literal sense that he was a disembodied spirit; if he was, he’d have no one to run from or nowhere to need to flea to, because he’d already have lost that which we all fight so desperately to preserve.

Our physical selves.

No, The Spook was an albino, one so white, in fact, that he could actually blend in with his surroundings. Not like a chameleon, which can alter its body chemistry and camouflage to the colors all around it. The Spook could literally disappear into this air, and yet be right there next to you, breathing on your shoulder and you wouldn’t know it until you heart the Pffft! of a bullet through its slender steel silencer, and you were “spooked” for good. The “bending space and time” bit? That was a byproduct of the chemicals that caused his skin to go all Nirvana Bleached.

And that’s why he was on the run all across Europe, Asia, and the Americas, all at the same time –– hopping passenger trains by blending into the walls and avoiding any eye contact with anyone who might recognize those piercing gray eyes of his (his eyes were like little silver orbs) –– because he’d spooked way too many of the wrong guys for the wronger guys.
Now, anyone could be an enemy agent out to ghost him in that most permanent of ways.
And then there were the bounty hunters, too. At times, it seemed to The Spook that literally everyone was out to get him, and he wouldn’t be entirely wrong about that, either.
Or perhaps The Spook had simply been trying to figure out a foolproof way out of this foolish business once and for all. Again, in the secret agent industry, there’s only two ways out, and both involve flowers and and a funeral. Though the funerals are sometimes optional. 
Only he didn’t count on the consequences of the actions that set him on the run for good. Or maybe instead of being confused, which caused this mess in the first place, maybe The Spook knew exactly what he was doing all along…

>> Continue reading: Chapter 16: Just Another Brooklyn Wanna-Beatnik >>