Occupation: Con Artist, Forger, and Burglar, Retired (mostly)

I never meant to get a dog. Dogs require structure. And stability. And I, Agatha Shadewell, have never been good with those.

But then I found Chance—hungry, thirsty, and eager for a home—just as I was planning to slice off the damn ankle monitor and flee. I call him Chance because that’s what he gave me. A second one. We could still go on the lam, but now that I’m in my sixties, staying put has begun to appeal.

Chance isn’t the first dog I’ve rescued. Back in 2010—or was it 2012?—I got pulled into a situation. I can’t give you details (statute of limitations and all that), but let’s just say I walked in planning to relieve a morally bankrupt corporation of something shiny… and walked out with something furrier.

Three somethings, actually. Against my better judgment. No, I didn’t keep any of them. Just got them back to their rightful owners. I slept better that night than I had in a long while.

That’s the trouble with having a conscience. It sneaks up on you at the worst possible time—usually after you’ve picked the lock, bypassed security, and found yourself nose-to-snout with a wagging complication.

People think I’m tough. And I am. But even I can’t say no to a crying child and a hopeful mutt.

These days, I live quietly in the small town of Unlikely, having been brought here—against my will—by the very FBI agent who arrested me. To be fair, I did lead him on a merry chase for more than three decades. It’s just unjust that he holds the key to my freedom—the ankle monitor—in his pocket.

Unlikely’s not a bad place. Great senior center. Endless coffee and gossip at Penny’s Diner. And some quirky folk who insist I’m one of them. I’ve gone from dodging cops to dodging potluck invitations. Honestly? I’m not sure which is more stressful.

Oh, and did I mention murder? Unlikely ain’t exactly Cabot Cove, but we have enough murders that we’ve formed an ever-expanding crime-solving group we unironically call THE UNLIKELY MURDER CLUB.

These days, if someone needs a crime solved, a rescue, or a mildly illegal deed done dirt cheap… I might just say yes. Not for the thrill. Not even for the payday. But for a sense of belonging I’ve never felt before.

And for the wet-nosed companion who’s great at sniffing out corpses and digging up skeletons. Good boy, Chance. Good boy.

* * * * * * * * * *
Gina X. Grant’s short story, “Secrets Unleashed,” is one of 22 stories included in Midnight Schemers and Daydream Believers: 22 Stories of Mystery & Suspense edited by Judy Penz Sheluk (A Superior Shores Anthology Book 5).

Midnight Schemers and Daydream Believers: 22 Stories of Mystery & Suspense
Genre: Traditional Mystery / Suspense Anthology
Release: June 2025
Format: Print, Digital
Purchase Link

Desire or desperation, revenge or retribution—how far would you go to realize a dream? The twenty-two authors in this collection explore the possibilities, with predictably unpredictable results.

Featuring stories by Pam Barnsley, Linda Bennett, Clark Boyd, C.W. Blackwell, Amanda Capper, Susan Daly, James Patrick Focarile, Rand Gaynor, Gina X. Grant, Julie Hastrup, Beth Irish, Charlie Kondek, Edward Lodi, Bethany Maines, Jim McDonald, donalee Moulton, Michael Penncavage, Judy Penz Sheluk, KM Rockwood, Peggy Rothschild, Debra Bliss Saenger, and Joseph S. Walker.

Meet the author
Gina X. Grant lives just north of Toronto, Canada, in the small town that inspired Agatha’s new home, Unlikely, New York. She shares her life with Canoli, a rescued street dog and the real-life role model for Chance, Agatha’s canine partner in crime. Intrigued by Agatha and Chance? Grab the FREE prequel, Agatha’s First Murder, AVAILABLE NOW at ginaxgrant.com. And watch for The Unlikely Murder Club, Books 1–5, coming in 2025!

About the editor
Judy Penz Sheluk is a former journalist and magazine editor and the bestselling author of two mystery series, several short stories, and two books on publishing. She is also the publisher and editor of four Superior Shores Anthologies. Find out more at judypenzsheluk.com.