Frank Corso

“I write these stories because I don’t think anyone would believe the real ones….”

The Author grew up in Boston and the South Shore of Massachusetts. He has a Bachelor of Science Degree from the University of Southern California, and graduated with high honors in Marketing and Management. He is a research consultant, and the creator of Frank Corso Mysteries, specializing in visiting corporate management, their competitors, vendors, and customers. He lives in Houston and New Orleans with his wife and children.

The Author will endeavor to answer all emails and respectful inquiries: frankcorsomysteries@gmail.com

Inquiries for creative rights acquisitions: info@frankcorsomysteries.com

EXCERPT

"…By the time I reached The French Market, my head was cold. So I strolled among the various vendors inside the green tented area to warm-up. I ran across a cart merchant of feathered hats, Mardi Gras masks, and other tourist souvenirs. I considered a stack of wool black berets under a Che Guevara poster. Observing me checking-out the poster, the seller reached under the rug covering of his cart’s storage and pulled one out with a red star on it.

          “No thanks, the plain one will do,” I said. “By the way, may I ask you a question? I’m looking for a house where they have séances somewhere around here, and I forgot the address at my hotel. The lady’s name is–”

          “That’s the Hoodoo Witch’s house,” he knew immediately.

          Excited, I said, “Yes, that’s her!” 

          Pointing over my shoulder, he said, “It’s down this way to the left on Gov’nah Nicholl’s Street. It’s a narrow white house…what we call down he’ah, a ‘shotgun’ house…cauz they’re so small you can blow everybody inside away with a twelve gauge from the street side. It’s down to the right just before you hit Bourbon Street. It’s sandwiched between two other big’gah houses. You can't miss it…it looks like a middle seat in the back of a cah.”

          He dropped his ‘r’s’ like he was born and raised in Boston, and I considered if that’s how I sound or just how I hear things. “Thanks, man, how much is the hat?”…

          Having paid twenty dollars for a ten dollar hat, my plan was to casually survey the Hoodoo Witch’s house from the other side of the street and see if any brilliant ideas came to mind. Sometimes, staring at a place is all I need for the angle or approach to randomly hit me."