Category: Uncategorized

The story behind the story – Echoes from the Past

The novel ‘Echoes from the past’ started out as a short story I wrote about 30 years ago, titled ‘The birthday’.

My idea was to take a normal person out of their comfort zone and led on a short but very frightening journey to a place where a surprise birthday party had been arranged.

Thus the very large man with a scar and a red tie was created.

So was the friend with the limousine who worked as a pilot.

So were the two women, Wendy and Angelina, who were Flight Attendants that the pilot friend asked to join the conspiracy.

I was going to rework the short story, then about ten pages long, into something a little more.

And like all re-writes, especially those I have anything to do with, it turned into a novel.

There was motivation.  I had told some colleagues at the place where I worked at the time that I liked writing, and they wanted a sample.  I was going to give them the re-worked short story.  Instead, I gave them ‘Echoes from the past’

Originally it was not set anywhere in particular.

But when considering a location, I had, at the time, recently been to New York in December, and visited Brooklyn and Queens, as well as a lot of New York itself.  We were there for New Years, and it was an experience I’ll never forget.

One evening we were out late, and finished up in Brooklyn Heights, near the waterfront, and there was rain and snow, it was cold and wet, and there were apartment buildings shimmering in the street light, and I thought, this is the place where my main character will live.

It had a very spooky atmosphere, the sort where ghosts would not be unexpected.  I felt more than one shiver go up and down my spine in the few minutes I was there.

I had taken notes, as I always do, of everywhere we went so I had a ready supply of locations I could use, changing the names in some cases.

Fifth Avenue near the Rockefeller center is amazing at first light, and late at night with the Seasonal decorations and lights.

The original main character was a shy and man of few friends, hence not expecting the surprise party.  I enhanced that shyness into purposely lonely because of an issue from his past that leaves him always looking over his shoulder and ready to move on at the slightest hint of trouble.  No friends, no relationships, just a very low profile.

Then I thought, what if he breaks the cardinal rule, and begins a relationship?

But it is also as much an exploration of a damaged soul, as it is the search for a normal life, without having any idea what normal was, and how the understanding of one person can sometimes make all the difference in what we may think or feel.

And, of course, I wanted a happy ending.

Except for the bad guys.

Get it here:  https://amzn.to/2CYKxu4

newechocover5rs

In a word: crane

Yes, it’s that huge device that is attached to a tall building and either raises or lowers building materials.  I’ve often wondered how the drive, so far up in the air can see where to pick up or drop a load.

Typically cranes are used to move large or heavy loads, like large fiberglass swimming pools from the roadside into the front or back yard.

The are train breakdown cranes, dock side cranes and broken down cranes, usually on the road in the middle of rush hour.

They used to have dog men, people who hung on grimly, going up or down with the load.  Not me when the building is sixty or seventy floors up.

There can be smaller cranes built on trucks that are for smaller jobs like lifting boats, sometimes parts of houses.  We had one near us once lifting a swimming pool into a front yard.

Then there is the crane, a bird.  Cranes are usually tall birds with long legs.

In Asia the crane symbolises happiness and eternal youth whereas in Japan the crane symbolises good fortune and longevity.

And other uses such as:

The boy craned his neck to see the batter hit a home run.  

Usually if I crane my neck, it causes days of muscular pain, ie literally the definition of a pain in the neck!

It means to distort your body or neck in order to see something more clearly, especially if you are in a bad position, like behind a pylon or tree.

It can also be used to describe a trolley with a large boom with a camera attached.

The first case of PI Walthenson – “A Case of Working With the Jones Brothers”

This case has everything, red herrings, jealous brothers, femme fatales, and at the heart of it all, greed.

See below for an excerpt from the book…

Coming soon!

PIWalthJones1

An excerpt from the book:

When Harry took the time to consider his position, a rather uncomfortable position at that, he concluded that he was somehow involved in another case that meant very little to him.

Not that it wasn’t important in some way he was yet to determine, it was just that his curiosity had got the better of him, and it had led to this: sitting in a chair, securely bound, waiting for someone one of his captors had called Doug.

It was not the name that worried him so much, it was the evil laugh that had come after the name was spoken.

Doug what? Doug the ‘destroyer’, Doug the ‘dangerous’, Doug the ‘deadly’; there was any number of sinister connotations, and perhaps that was the point of the laugh, to make it more frightening than it was.

But there was no doubt about one thing in his mind right then: he’d made a mistake. A very big. and costly, mistake. Just how big the cost, no doubt he would soon find out.

His mother, and his grandmother, the wisest person he had ever known, had once told him never to eavesdrop.

At the time he couldn’t help himself and instead of minding his own business, listening to a one-sided conversation which ended with a time and a place. The very nature of the person receiving the call was, at the very least, sinister, and, because of the cryptic conversation, there appeared to be, or at least to Harry, criminal activity involved.

For several days he had wrestled with the thought of whether he should go. Stay on the fringe, keep out of sight, observe and report to the police if it was a crime. Instead, he had willingly gone down the rabbit hole.

Now, sitting in an uncomfortable chair, several heat lamps hanging over his head, he was perspiring, and if perspiration could be used as a measure of fear, then Harry’s fear was at the highest level.

Another runnel of sweat rolled into his left eye, and, having his hands tied, literally, it made it impossible to clear it. The burning sensation momentarily took his mind off his predicament. He cursed and then shook his head trying to prevent a re-occurrence. It was to no avail.

Let the stinging sensation be a reminder of what was right and what was wrong.

It was obvious that it was the right place and the right time, but in considering his current perilous situation, it definitely was the wrong place to be, at the worst possible time.

It was meant to be his escape, an escape from the generations of lawyers, what were to Harry, dry, dusty men who had been in business since George Washington said to the first Walthenson to step foot on American soil, ‘Why don’t you become a lawyer?” when asked what he could do for the great man.

Or so it was handed down as lore, though Harry didn’t think Washington meant it literally, the Walthenson’s, then as now, were not shy of taking advice.

Except, of course, when it came to Harry.

He was, Harry’s father was prone to saying, the exception to every rule. Harry guessed his father was referring to the fact his son wanted to be a Private Detective rather than a dry, dusty lawyer. Just the clothes were enough to turn Harry off the profession.

So, with a little of the money Harry inherited from one of his aunts, he leased an office in Gramercy Park and had it renovated to look like the Sam Spade detective agency, you know the one, Spade and Archer, and The Maltese Falcon.

There’s a movie and a book by Dashiell Hammett if you’re interested.

So, there it was, painted on the opaque glass inset of the front door, ‘Harold Walthenson, Private Detective’.

There was enough money to hire an assistant, and it took a week before the right person came along, or, more to the point, didn’t just see his business plan as something sinister. Ellen, a tall cool woman in a long black dress, or so the words of a song in his head told him, fitted in perfectly.

She’d seen the movie, but she said with a grin, Harry was no Humphrey Bogart.

Of course not, he said, he didn’t smoke.

Three months on the job, and it had been a few calls, no ‘real’ cases, nothing but missing animals, and other miscellaneous items. What he really wanted was a missing person. Or perhaps a beguiling, sophisticated woman who was as deadly as she was charming, looking for an errant husband, perhaps one that she had already ‘dispatched’.

Or for a tall, dark and handsome foreigner who spoke in riddles and in heavily accented English, a spy, or perhaps an assassin, in town to take out the mayor. The man was such an imbecile Harry had considered doing it himself.

Now, in a back room of a disused warehouse, that wishful thinking might be just about to come to a very abrupt end, with none of the romanticized trappings of the business befalling him. No beguiling women, no sinister criminals, no stupid policemen.

Just a nasty little man whose only concern was how quickly or how slowly Harry’s end was going to be.

…

© Charles Heath 2019-2024

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to go on a treasure hunt – Episode 88

Here’s the thing…

Every time I close my eyes, I see something different.

I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox.

But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.

Once again there’s a new installment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt.

…

We have a situation

…

Home wasn’t home anymore.

I stood inside the front door, as I had many times in the past, but this time it was different.

Maybe it was the near-death experience, maybe I hadn’t been there for a few days, maybe I had irrevocably changed in those few short days.

It seemed that I was someone else, that the old Sam had gone away, and a new version had replaced him.  Had I finally grown up, or was I still reeling from the ordeal and, more likely, mourning the loss of what had been my one true friend.

Right then, it felt like Boggs had never existed, and that Nadia had invaded that space.

Nadia.

Until now, right this moment, I hadn’t really thought about what I was about to do.  Since being in the hospital, every movement I’d made felt mechanical, and someone else was manipulating the controls.

Wanting to leave was a knee-jerk reaction, and one that failed to recognize others may have a role in what happened, like my mother.  I gad completely discounted her because of her association with Benderby, but what if that was no longer the case.

With Alex off the hook, they no longer had to worry about Nadia or what I might say or do, not that there was anything we could do.  I felt for Charlene who literally was between a rock and a hard place, having to compromise her principles to uphold justice and her disappointment in her father.

To be honest, his actions came as a surprise, despite the rumors of corruption.  It didn’t occur to me that it might have been the lesser of the evils, getting Vince off the streets, nobbling the Cossatinos, and to a lesser extent, using the situation as a bargaining chip with the Benderby’s.

But all of that was moot.  Another rumor circulating, according to the newspaper I’d seen at the hotel, was that a third term for the current sheriff was looking unlikely.  It was joined by an interview with Benderby on the construction of a new resort on the mall site.  Noticeably absent were any reports on Boggs, the treasure, or Cossatino.

I considered briefly whether I should go to the newspaper and tell them the whole story.  If he considered it had any element of truth, he’d publish it and be damned, but the thought of how his wife, an Ormiston, would take the news of finding her father, only for the body to disappear, would serve no purpose.  If there was a body, I would not hesitate.

But, now, it was enough to make a decision on what I would do next.  Pack a bag, tell my mother I was leaving, and call Nadia.

It was impossible to fit a lifetime into a bag.  It was fortunate, perhaps, that my situation had not afforded me the luxury of too many possessions, or anything of value.

Even so, what fitted wasn’t much.  I wanted to believe it was going to be a new start, but it seemed like I was just running away, that the problems I was running from would just come with me. 

And, then, there was Nadia.  I was today’s flavor of the month, but would I be in a month, or two? 

That thought was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening.  I stepped onto the passage just as my mother closed the door.

“Sam.  Where have you been?  I’ve been calling, and leaving messages.”

She wasn’t angry, but there was an edge to her tone.  I should have at the very least sent a message to say I was OK.  It didn’t help my phone battery had died.  I’d put it in the recharge, and minutes later continually dinged with missed messages

“I had to get away.  Either that or I would have done something I regretted.  I thought you’d moved in with Benderby.”

“You thought wrong.  This business with Alex.  I remember you told me he was responsible for what happened to you and Nadia, and when I overheard him arguing with his father, I realised you were telling me the truth, and neither of them could be trusted.  I just told him I needed some time to sort out some issues.”

“You’re not going back?”

“No.  What are you going to do?”

“There’s nothing for me here.  I’m not going back to the warehouse, nor do I want to be here anymore.  Not while Alex is put and about.  It’s only a matter of time before he comes after Nadia and I.”

“Then you’re still going to Italy with her.”

“For a while, see how it works out.  You should come too, at least for a holiday, think about what you’re going to do.  Personally, I think you should also leave, start fresh somewhere else.”

“Maybe you’re…”

We both heard the screeching tires of a car coming to a sudden stop outside, followed by the slamming of doors.

Alex not waiting to clean up his mess?

A sudden pounding on the door revised that assessment, if anyone was here to do us harm they would have kicked the door down.

I moved my mother behind me, and the protection of the door as I opened it.

The sheriff.

“We have a situation,” he said in his most serious tone

Warning us the Benderby’s were coming for us?

When neither of us responded, he added, “Elsie Boggs has the Benderby’s at gunpoint at the Blue Circle, and she will only talk to you.”

…

© Charles Heath 2020-2022

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to see the planets – Episode 16

Space command, one of our captains is missing

…

Before I called, I had one question for the second officer; where were we heading. The answer was not surprising, Uranus.

The next question was why the alien pirate had told us. The first answer that came to mind, we would never get there in time, that is, he had a much faster ship than us.

Us humans were going to have to get a lot savvier in a hurry.

I had a special channel to call in space command if anything went wrong. As the Admiral had said, he didn’t want our mistakes to be front-page news.

This was not a mistake, but it was news that might start riots. A lot of people had been against going out into the universe to explore.

My first attempt to raise him failed. It was when I realised it would be around 3am where he was, and hardly at his console waiting for me to call him.

But, 10 minutes later, he was calling me.

‘I take it this is about Vanderhoven and Myers.”

Again, it took a moment to remember that the ground crew could monitor everyone on the ship, a precaution because we were heading where no human had been before.

“We were boarded by an alien who transported onto and off the ship the same was transport inanimate objects. He purported to be chasing after the pirates who stole the plutonium fuel rods bound for Venus, and was asking for our help in chasing down the perpetrators. It was a ruse to keep us occupied while his men were looking for Myers.”

“They stole plutonium?”

Again, not my first question. “I think the first revelation might be the more significant, that there are other life forms out there.”

“And hostile?”

“I don’t think they plan to attack Earth sir, because according to this alien, they have had people on our planet since before the second world war.”

“And you believe him?”

“Do we know of any rogue earth-based people who could secretly put together a ship vastly superior to this one, which is supposedly the best we’ve ever had?”

His silence told me there wasn’t, not that he’d probably tell me if there was, but his expression spoke volumes. He also looked deep in thought.

Then, “In the absence of the captain, you’re it. I’ll confirm it within the next few hours. Do you know where they’ve gone?”

“I believe so. One of Uranus’s moons, Coronis.”

“That’s nothing but ice.”

“Maybe. Well, know more when we get there.”

OK. I want a more detailed report of the incident in two hours. Something you should be aware of, your ship is capable of an SSPD factor of 10, not 4. We were not going to tell anyone until after the shakedown. I’ll talk to the Engineer, and he’ll get back to you when it can be implemented. Keep me informed.”

The screen went dead.

As number one I was responsible for making the Captain look good. As captain, I was now responsible for a priceless ship and all 2,223 souls aboard.

Too much, too soon.

But before I had time to consider it, the scene officer was back.

“Sir, we have a problem.”

…

© Charles Heath 2021-2023

Jump Now – A short story

It was 2 am, the ideal time to assemble a team that would be clandestinely boarding a vessel.

Dark and moonless, it was fortuitous rather than planned, and, dressed in black from head to toe, it was hard to see the others in the inky darkness.  At least something was on our side.

Up until this point, we’d had nothing but bad luck, though I was more of the opinion we had a traitor in our midst because some of the events could not have any other explanation.

It had caused me to be far more selective in who I gave details of the mission to.

Each of the four team members had arrived and let themselves into the shed.  It was not far from the ocean, and a small pier where there was a landing craft waiting.  From there, it would be a half-hour trip out to the ship in question, where, if we got close enough, we would either have to go over the side and swim, or pull alongside, but either way we’d have to go up a rope.

A lot depended on the crew member we had recruited getting a rope overboard, and given the luck we had so far, if there was a flaw in the plan, that was it.

Aside from the four people sitting in front of me, there were only three others privy to what was about to happen.  Now, with recent events, it was hard to imagine that one of them could betray us. That’s why I hadn’t completely told them what they were about to do, just that they needed to be prepared to get wet.

“I’m sure, now we’re here, you can tell us what’s going on.”  Robert was the most trusted of my team and my best friend.

“And why all the hush-hush,”  Linda added.  She had been amused at the secrecy and my explanation.

I was never very good at spinning a story.  She knew that but had not questioned why.

“It’s been touch and go for the last week.  It’s why we’ve all been on standby, with this last-minute call out.  We’ve been waiting for a particular ship to leave port, and now it has.  So, without further ado, let’s get to it.  A boat ride, just enough time to gather the courage to the sticking point, and then with any luck we won’t have to go into the water and swim, but a short shimmy up a rope.  I hope you’ve all been working out.”

The boat ride was in silence.  I’d worked with this group before and they were not big on talking.  Aside from the fact that noise traveled over water, and since we had a specially silenced motor on the boat, there was not going to be any unnecessary conversation.

We could see the ship once we reached the headland, and aside from it’s running lights, there were lights where I presumed the bridge was, and several in the crew quarters.  Closer again, I got the impression it was not moving, or if it was, it was very slow.  It was hard to tell in the darkness.  That same darkness aided our approach.

When we were within several hundred yards I could see that the ship was not moving, and, in fact, had the anchor out.

That was not expected.  Were they waiting for us?  Had they discovered the cream member who was working with us?  We’d know soon enough if there was no rope in the designated point, not far forward of the stern, a spot where we could maneuver the boat under the hull curvature.

The driver piloted the boat slowly to the designated point and the rope was there.  He would stay with the boat and wait.  The four of us would go up and collect what we came for.

I watched the three go up the rope before me, waiting for the last to stop at the top and then go over the side onto the deck.  It took nearly a minute before I got the signal it was clear to follow.

It had been too easy.

I went up the rope slowly, slower than the others, something else other than the object of the exercise on my mind.  Not three days before I had a conversation with my boss, telling him that I’d been doing the job too long and that it was time to retire.  Approaching forty wasn’t exactly retirement age, but in this job, lasting that long was almost a miracle.  The places I’d been, the sights I’d seen, and the people I’d met.  And how many lives I’d used up.

It was a dangerous thing, thinking about anything other than the job when you’re on the job.

I reached the top and pulled myself over the railing and onto the deck.  A little off balance it took a moment to stand.  By then it was too late.

Two of the three other members of the team were sitting by the superstructure, heads on their heads, two members of the crew were watching them, guns at the ready, and Linda had one pointing at me.

“I can’t imagine how MacIntyre thought he was going to convince Petra to defect.  Or how this charade of a rescue attempt was ever going to work.”

I put my hands up.  Not entirely unexpected.  “It was not the mission objective.”

“What…”

I was surprised that she had made her move so early.  If it was my operation, I would wait until we were well into the superstructure, heading to the cabin where Petra would be waiting, and then make the move.

Three seconds, three shots, two guards taken out, and Linda incapacitated.  She would not be moving or fighting back any time soon.  The Petra came out of the shadows, and I collected Linda’s gun and stood near her, just in case Petra missed the target.

Petra cut the two other’s bindings, and said, “get to the side and jump now.”

Linda looked up at me.  “What now?”

I shrugged.  “Time for us to leave.”  I gave Petra a nod, and she went over to the side, took one look back at Linda, shook her head, then jumped.

“You’re just going to leave me here?”

“If it were up to me, I’d shoot you, but MacIntire is getting a little soft in his old age.  But yes, I’m leaving you here.  Now, I really must go.”

I took a last look at Linda, who realized that if she moved it would only worsen her injury, and jumped, not exactly my preferred way of leaving the ship.

The boat came up alongside me and two hands dragged me on board, at the same time we could hear the sound of the anchor chain being pulled up, and the propellers creating a wash as the ship started moving.

Job done, and not one that pleased me.  “Let’s go home,” I told the driver, “it’s past my bedtime.”

—-

© Charles Heath 2020-2021

NANOWRIMO – 2024 – Day 21

Behind the Green Door

…

Michael wakes in a concrete cell.

He’s finally discovered the reality of the secret police, landing in interrogation.

After all, he’s still trying to understand why he wasn’t escorted straight to interrogation the moment he walked through the door on day one.

Was it possible still, after all this time, she eas protecting him?

Or was it possible, even remotely, that she was still alive.

It couldn’t be possible because he had video evidence of her being killed unless that was a staged event.  He was shocked when he received it, more shocked when he saw it, and completely dumbfounded when management lied about what happened.

Drugged and dumped.

He could only imagine what they might be doing to Miranda because if it was him, he would probably completely update the programming.

Unless in doing so, they destroyed the only level five robot they had.

Michael is beginning to think Elsie was smarter than all of the management put together.  It was even more of a mystery why she decided to spend her life with him, when he knew there were so many more interesting and cleverer men to choose from.

He gets a few hours to contemplate his fate before he’s taken to meet the interrogator.

It’s no surprise that when he finally gets to interrogation, the man on the other side of the table is Ross Pendleton, the youngest son of the management brothers.

Pendleton starts with the threats.

Michael issues a counter threat, part of what he considered a hail Mary plan.

It works.

Ross has to consult with his brothers.

…

Word written today 2,000, making a total of 38,998 words

Searching for locations – Gold Coast, Queensland, Australia – 3

Quite often on holidays, we train ourselves to get up early because when you’re away in a different place, you don’t want to waste the day.

I’d like to think that since we can’t do a lot of the usual touristy activities we can sleep in and take a more leisurely approach to the day.

Not this morning.

Not yesterday, either, but for different reasons.

Today, it was the shooting pains down my leg from the bad back. Perhaps that walk to the coffee shop aggravated it, but since when did exercise harm you?

Anyway, finally giving up the notion of sleeping, I bounded out of bed, sorry slowly climbed out of bed with care, at 6:40 a.m. Unless you’re going on a tour that is the greatest thing since sliced bread, who, on holidays, gets out of bed at that hour.

Me, apparently.

Just four minutes after sunrise, which I missed.

I managed to get yesterday’s and was hoping to go one better and catch the sun coming over the horizon. Maybe tomorrow.

So, what do you do in such a hideous hour of the morning?

With the beach just 50 meters away, it was beckoning me to take a walk. When I looked, there were probably a half dozen people with their dogs taking a walk. And another three or four out for a power walk.

For me, it was going to be a leisurely stroll after picking my way across the loose sand to where it was a lot more solid.

The tide was on the way in, so every now and then, the water came up the beach near where most people walked.

By the time I started the foot traffic on the path had increased exponentially as had that on the shoreline along with the number of dogs exercising their owners, and a number of fishermen perhaps trying to land a fish for breakfast.

I had time to keep an eye on the cloud formations, and the waves came in, some a lot higher than others. That meant there were also a small number of die-hard surfers hoping to catch a big one.

You could see the rain out to sea, and with the forecast for rain later I entered of it was sitting out there waiting to arrive at the appointed time. I was just hoping it didn’t rain while I was out.

All in all, it was a pleasant hour or so up the beach and back. The hardest part, trudging over the loose sand, particularly after walking for the hour.

The fishermen had caught nothing.

The number of dogs had increased, but the power walkers had been replaced by families, visitors, and older people. I think if I lived here, I would be one more of the old people, out getting my daily exercise, and then stopping off at the coffee shop for a flat white and a cake.

And the best thing about it. It was still only half past eight in the morning and just in time for breakfast.

Pity I was the designated chef.

It’s all about the Cover

And, of course, the description.

Probably one of the hardest things for a first-time author is not so much the writing but what is needed after the book is written.

You need a good description.  Short, sharp, incisive!

There’s a ream of advice out there, and I have read it all.

And, still, I got it wrong.

Then there is the cover.

I wanted simplistic, a short description to give the reader a taste of what’s in store, and let the story speak for itself.

No.

Apparently, a good cover will attract the reader to the book.

When I tendered my books on various sites to advertise them, sites such as Goodreads, and ThirdScribe, all was well with what I had done.

Then I submitted my books to a third site and they rejected the covers as too simplistic and the descriptions mundane, and wouldn’t post them.

Wow.

There’s a huge blow to the ego.  And just the sort of advice that would make a writer think twice about even bothering to continue.

But…

Perhaps the person who wrote that critique was being cruel to be kind.

At any rate, I am changing the covers, and rewording the descriptions.

Will it be a case of ‘what a difference a cover makes’?

“Sunday in New York”, a romantic adventure that’s not a walk in the park!

“Sunday in New York” is ultimately a story about trust, and what happens when a marriage is stretched to its limits.

When Harry Steele attends a lunch with his manager, Barclay, to discuss a promotion that any junior executive would accept in a heartbeat, it is the fact his wife, Alison, who previously professed her reservations about Barclay, also agreed to attend, that casts a small element of doubt in his mind.

From that moment, his life, in the company, in deciding what to do, his marriage, his very life, spirals out of control.

There is no one big factor that can prove Harry’s worst fears, that his marriage is over, just a number of small, interconnecting events, when piled on top of each other, points to a cataclysmic end to everything he had believed in.

Trust is lost firstly in his best friend and mentor, Andy, who only hints of impending disaster, Sasha, a woman whom he saved, and who appears to have motives of her own, and then in his wife, Alison, as he discovered piece by piece damning evidence she is about to leave him for another man.

Can we trust what we see with our eyes or trust what we hear?

Haven’t we all jumped to conclusions at least once in our lives?

Can Alison, a woman whose self-belief and confidence is about to be put to the ultimate test, find a way of proving their relationship is as strong as it has ever been?

As they say in the classics, read on!

Purchase:

http://tinyurl.com/Amazon-SundayInNewYork