Domestic Thriller Stories

The Macaw Repeats the Sum

By Jamie F. Bell

Arthur liked his work. He enjoyed the quiet ritual of it, the methodical transformation of chaos into order. He was a cleaner. A specialist. Tonight's job was a 'level three spillage' in a 24-hour convenience store just off the M4. He entered through the back, the manager having been paid handsomely to close for 'emergency plumbing issues.' The 'plumbing issue' was currently being arranged in neat, black bags in the walk-in freezer. Arthur's job was to erase the process.

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The Palming of the Queen of Spades

By Jamie F. Bell

The rain wasn't just falling; it was a solid, percussive thing, hammering on the flat roof of the 'Last Chance Gas & Go' with a fury that made the windows vibrate. Inside, the four of them were marooned in an island of fluorescent light, surrounded by a world that had dissolved into grey water. The road was gone, the car park was a lake, and the only sound besides the storm was the gentle hum of the drink cooler and the anxious tapping of Mrs. Gable's pen against her crossword puzzle.

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A Tenor in Aisle Three

By Jamie F. Bell

The 'Stop & Shop' hummed. It was a low, constant thrum from the rows of refrigerators lining the walls, a sound that Chloe insisted was 'masking the residual spirit energy.' Raj, crouched over his laptop on top of a stack of unsold newspapers, called it 'the sound of electricity doing its job.' Brenda, who was methodically checking the expiry dates on a family-sized bag of pork scratchings, didn't call it anything. She just wanted to be sure their stakeout snacks were fresh.

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The Unstuck Nickel

By Jamie F. Bell

The bell above the door of the 'Quik Snax' hadn't so much chimed as it had given a weary, metallic sigh. Leo, who was in the middle of a profound study of a grease stain on the counter, didn't look up. Tuesdays were for the ghosts of the night shift, the people who moved through the world on a different frequency. This one felt different. The air tasted of ozone and burnt sugar, a combination that wasn't on the store's usual olfactory menu of stale coffee and industrial floor cleaner.

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