Cowboys

When I was a kid the Dallas Cowboys were often referred to as the "Cardiac Cowboys." That was becuase Roger Stuabach had the ability to often save the game during the last two minutes and turn a loss into a win. Aikman was able to do the same thing when he was quarterback.

Often Tony Romo seems to do the "Cardiac Cowboy" deal in the opposite way where he plays well up until the final two minutes. That was not the case today in a game that went right down to the end.

Minnesota was tough. A continued lack of a running game by Dallas will doom the season IF they don't fix it.

Sample Sunday: "Carpathian Shadows Volume 2"

After several Sundays of good books from other authors, I decided that today it was my turn. Before there was Mind Slices there was Carpathian Shadows Volume 2. The anthology, published several years ago by BooksforaBuck.com, contains a number of stories, including mine. 

The gist of the setting is that deep in the heart of the Carpathian Mountains, in Transylvania, lies a castle. This castle was once home to a nobleman who, it is claimed, warred with the church, bound his servants with a curse of silence, and ruled his lands with a grip of iron. Fortunately for modern-day visitors, Lord John Erdely has been dead for centuries and his castle now a haven for tourists. Or so, at least, is the claim.

Each visitor to a local hotel receives a fancy invitation--they're invited on a free tour and paranormal investigation. When a freak storm hits, forcing the visitors to overnight in Lord Erdely's castle, the tourists learn that Erdely's power is not limited merely to ancient fairy tales.

My story, "By The Light Of The Moon", explains what happens to those who learn too much of the Carpathian castle's secrets. If you are intrigued by the sample below ordering is easy. Available in print and e-book forms at the publisher, Amazon, and elsewhere, while supplies last you can order an autographed print copy of Carpathian Shadows Volume 2 direct from me for the low price of ten dollars. That includes the media rate postage.

“By The Light Of The Moon”

"Is he here?"

"Yes, Commander."

"How is he?"

What he was asking was whether or not the suspect had made it alive into his station. He should have but sometimes accidents happened in the field. The young officer stepped a little ways into the room. New to his job, he was working hard to impress, which is why the Commander had chosen him. Things had to be contained, and he knew he could keep the man, more like a boy at twenty, in line.

"Typical American." The young officer couldn't keep the scorn out of his voice, "Very emotional. Fits of screaming and crying when we placed the cuffs on him. He's sitting quietly in Interrogation 4 now."

"Good. That will be all."

The young man saluted, swiveled in his black spit-polished boots, and strode confidently out of the office. The Commander sat back and smiled to himself while he listened to the pleasurable sound of the boots striking the floor fade away down the long hall. To be young again and so sure of righteousness, of purpose. Not that it really mattered, as fate ordained everything.  His die was cast long ago, as was my own, he thought, and the idea depressed him as it had the last few months.

He stood and stretched, feeling his spine pop before he walked down the same hall. Unlike the young man before him who had turned right so that he could pass the front desk and go back out on patrol, the Commander turned left and, with a few steps, began to feel like the walls were closing in on him. The truth was, they were as he journeyed deeper into the old section of the garrison. This part had been built into the mountain long ago, and the Commander secretly suspected that there had to be a tunnel from here up to the castle far above. He suspected it but had never tried to find out because he knew that in such matters, a lack of knowledge was safer than knowing the truth….

Also available for your Kindle at $3.99

Time Change Night

And forget the batteries...you have big stones to move back.

October 2013 Reads and Reviews

In addition to interviews, news, market calls, free book alerts, Sample Sundays featuring various authors, and lots of other things on the blog, this is the complete list of the “October 2013 Reads and Reviews.” All reviews are mine unless otherwise noted.

Pariah by Dave Zeltserman (FFB Review)

Second Watch: A J. P. Beaumont Novel by J. A. Jance

The Necklace by Shirley McCann

Death’s Brother: A Top Suspense Story by Bill Crider

The Julius Caesar Murder Case by Wallace Irwin (FFB Review--Patrick Ohl)

Missing Dog Tags: An American GI in North Korea by Kenneth Eaton

One Angry Julius Katz and Other Stories by Dave Zeltserman

Tamarack County by William Kent Krueger

FLANK HAWK: A First Civilization’s Legacy Novel by Terry W. Ervin II (FFB Review)

The Rules by Mark Troy

The West End Horror by Nicholas Meyer (FFB Review-Patrick Ohl)

The Devil’s Bones by Larry D. Sweazy

That was October. November has already gotten off to a good start with Moon Shot: Murder and Mayhem At The Edge Of Space with more to come.
 
Thank you for your support and your participation here on the blog.  I am glad to keep this going as long as I can.

Memory Time

The below is of Sprague Lake as posted by staff of Rocky Mountain National Park today on Facebook.  Another beautiful place I have not seen with my own eyes in more than 30 years.

Review: Moon Shot: Murder And Mayhem On The Edge Of Space Edited by J. Alan Hartman

As long as humans are involved in space exploration, crime is a distinct possibility. It is a common occurrence in this anthology of 14 short stories. Recently released by Untreed Reads, Moon Shot: Murder And Mayhem On The Edge Of Space proves that in space they may not hear you scream, but thanks to surveillance cameras and other technology they often see you kill.

According to editor Jay Hartman, the inspiration for the anthology was a story submitted by Suzanne Berube Rorhus several months ago. That story set abroad the International Space Station titled “A Murder Far From Home” starts off the anthology.  Chrissie Isaac is very much dead thanks to the slit in her carotid artery. With Atlantis docked to the station there are nine possible suspects on board and not one of them is a homicide detective. The beautiful Chrissie had been possibly borderline at her job, but she definitely was far better at creating drama and sexual tension. The ISS doctor has to determine who did the deed in a case where almost everyone had plenty of motive.

Beauregard wasn’t supposed to die. But, he did after what would have been routine surgery on Earth. Surgery at the Lunar Base is a far different thing in “Virtual Crimes, Real Consequences” by Elizabeth Hossang. An investigation is launched and Commander Ortiz is going to have to make some tough decisions.

Jack Bates is up next with “Rocket Garden” set at the NASA complex in Florida. It is night and the visitor center is closed. That is part of Jacob’s plan to deal with problem and the easiest part. Everything else is kind of up in the air including the large moon that illuminates all.

Mars make the first appearance in the anthology in “Where Egos Collide” by Laird Long.  Dr. Lazar wants to surrender to the warden of the “Martian Territory Correctional Facility.” He claims to be the same Dr. Lazar that is, according to reports, the one who has threatened to move the Earth from its orbit unless the United States pays him ten billion dollars. This Dr. Lazar wants protective custody. Unfortunately for him, they already have in protective custody another Dr. Lazar who seems to know everything.

Homicide Detectives as well as cops in general are nearly obsolete thanks to advances in technology and computers. Those few homicide detectives left are referred to as “Fedoras.”  In this story of the same name by Jeremy K. Tyler Detective Stone is human with a few cybernetic enhancements. Something bad had happened onboard The Caledonia that has resulted in four fatalities. What happened is just one of the things Detective Stone has to figure out.

“Mayhem on Mars” by E. Lynn Hooghiemstra features a crew that is slipping over the edge. Things are going wrong with critical systems and Saskia hasn’t been able to fix the problems on a permanent basis. The personnel involved are also failing at important times and despite all their training are having emotional crises. If Saskia can’t figure out what is happening everyone will be dead –-one way or another.

Michael has a serious problem in “At the Corner of Night and Nowhere” by Toby Speed. His wealthy wife wants out of the marriage and to return to Earth. Mary Beth has it all planned out and makes it very clear she is done with the marriage as well as life on Mars. Now, Michael has to figure out what to do as the clock ticks down to her departure.

Pickpocketing is just one of the things at work in “On Gossamer Wings” by Wenda Morrone.  Little J knows how to move things through Penn Station and bypass the cops. The guy wearing the Star Trek pin would do well to listen. An upcoming moon shot could be at stake in this alternative history story.

It is supposed to be a relaxing evening at home. A little wine, a little music, and off to bed in “Crime of Passion” by Suzanne Derham Cifarelli. That was until the intercom buzzed and ruined things for Amelia McGhee. At least she is still alive. According to detectives from the settlement police, Mr. Henry Watkins, colleague at the high school, has been murdered.  Just like on Earth, on Mars, the cops want you down to the station immediately and answer questions.

Being the great grandson of the wealthy founder of the Moon colony has its privileges. The very privileged Henry Compton, Junior, has a problem and would like Mr. Tybalt Kenyon to help him in “The Case of Frankenstein and Spanish Nun” by Andrew MacRae.  The family put Henry Compton in charge of the only library on the moon and, despite their attempt to put Junior somewhere he would do no harm, a book has gone missing. Not just missing, but stolen for ransom. With over twenty thousand people at the base, finding the suspect or suspects and retrieving the book without paying the ransom first may be impossible.

Detective Ba has a strange case in “Downhill Slide” by Jeff Howe. Six weeks out from an automatic promotion a return to Earth, the detective has a murder mystery to solve at the deep space mining operation known as Ceres Station One. The beautiful Eliso Espinosa has killed her husband according to the records and her confession. But, she didn’t.

For the past eight years a special day for killing has been designated in this tale from Percy Spurlark Parker. “Death Day” is about to happen again and private investigator Max Pomeroy doesn’t have a target in mind. That is until Roget Byoyack walks in and wants to hire Pomeroy to keep him alive. It’s going to be a challenge and one the first vice president of finance for the Mars Mineral Mines Corporation can well afford.

It is a huge discovery in “Goodbye Moon” by Mary McCarroll White and Jay Taylor made it.  While Jay’s personal life is a mess this space scientist knows what is happening on the moon.  An object that has fascinated him for years and one with that he is going to share one final link.

Sneezing can be a problem in space when one is in the suit. It should not be a problem when one is working inside the moon base. In “Moon Dust” a simple sneeze has proven fatal for Robert Egan who has been ejected out an air lock. Parker Morgan and Cassidy Diaz have to figure out what went wrong and put a stop to it in this story by Lance Zarimba. After all, “In Space, no one can hear you sneeze.”

The book closes with brief biographies of each of the authors.

The fourteen stories in this anthology are all good ones and showcase a lot of variety in the book. Some are harder edged mystery reads than others while some lean heavily on technology as compared to other ones. Moon Shot: Murder And Mayhem On The Edge Of Space makes it clear that wherever humans go, murder and mayhem will follow. It is only a question of time---and opportunity.

Moon Shot: Murder And Mayhem On The Edge Of Space

Editor J. Alan Hartman

Untreed Reads

http://www.untreedreads.com

October 8, 2013

ASIN: B081ZTH2W3

E-book (estimated 198 pages)

Material supplied by the Editor in exchange for my objective review.

Kevin R. Tipple ©2013

Thuglit 8--Now Out

Thuglit 8 is now out and you can get it here.

Bill Crider's Pop Culture Magazine: Cries of the Lost -- Chris Knopf

Bill Crider's Pop Culture Magazine: Cries of the Lost -- Chris Knopf: In Dead Anyway, which I reviewed here ,   Chris Knopf introduced Arthur Cathcart.  In that book, Cathcart nearly dies when his wife is kil...

FFB Review: "The Shootist" by Glendon Swarthout ---Reviewed by Patrick Ohl

Friday means Friday’s Forgotten Books with Patti Abbott. B. V. Lawson is subbing for Patti this week and collecting the links so look here for them today. Her blog is one you should be following already if you haven’t been as there is always lots of good stuff there.

I am partial to Westerns though I don’t get that many submitted for review. Don’t know why that is any more than why I get so many requests to do horror novels when I don’t read or review them. One of life’s little quirks. As we start the merry month of November which includes the national holiday of Thanksgiving as well as my birthday (which should be a day of praise and worship) I give you the below review of The Shootist by Glendon Swarthout as submitted by Patrick Ohl.

Weave a circle round him thrice

And close your eyes with holy dread

For he on honey-dew hath fed

And drunk the milk of Paradise.

Last year, when I reviewed Shane by Jack Schaefer, I admitted that I did not know much about Westerns and that I intended to rectify the mistake. And so today I’d like to talk about another Western that was recommended to me by Bill Pronzini: The Shootist by Glendon Swarthout. Western fans might recognize the title as the title of John Wayne’s final movie, and for good reason: that movie was adapted from the book by the author’s own son, Miles Hood Swarthout. The film co-starred such legendary actors as Lauren Bacall and Jimmy Stewart, and it included other high-profile names: Ron Howard, Scatman Crothers, Richard Boone, Harry Morgan, and John Carradine all come to mind. I consider the movie to be one of the finest Westerns ever made, a poignant valentine to the Western and the type of iconic hero John Wayne might have played. (Indeed, the movie began with a unique sequence, in which a series of clips from Wayne’s glory days in film were used to show his character’s glory days.)

So Glendon Swarthout had a tough act to follow, even though his novel came before the film. I don’t know much about Westerns – honestly, when I think of vintage Westerns I think of the books in the section next to the vintage mystery/thriller section in my favourite used bookstore. Based on my brief perusal of those books, they seem rather similar in content and style, in a derivative pulp-fiction kind of way. But I’m not qualified to comment – I’m as ignorant on the subject as the average mystery writer today is ignorant of the Golden Age of Mysteries. This is simply my impression. So imagine my delight when I discovered that The Shootist was just as good a book as it was a movie – in fact, it might be even better.

John Bernard (J. B.) Books is the titular “shootist” (a term that was once the popular word for a gunman). He comes all the way from Creede, Colorado to El Paso, looking for a doctor. Specifically, he is looking for Dr. Charles Hostetler, who once saved his life when he was shot in the belly. As a consequence, Hostetler is the only medical man Books will trust. Books complains about severe pain in his crotch. After an examination, Hostetler delivers his diagnosis: Books has a carcinoma of the prostate: cancer. He can’t expect to live much longer, and his eventual death is going to be slow and excruciatingly painful. At Books’ request, Hostetler delivers the harsh truth about the kind of death he can expect:

Hostetler pursed his lips. "You will waste away. The process will be slow at first, then rapid."

"Waste away?"

"Loss of flesh. Known as `cachexia.' bones of the face become prominent. The skin takes on a grayish cast. You will be a pretty awful sight. No one will dare tell you, but you will. Pretty awful."

"What else?"

"There will be increasing severity of pain. In the lumbar spine, in the hips and groin."

"What else?"

"Must we go on?"

"Yes."

"Your water will shut off progressively. The bladder will swell because you can't unload it. You will gradually become uremic. Poisoned by your own waste products, due to a failure of the kidneys. By this time the agony will be unbearable, and no drug will moderate it. Hopefully, you will become comatose. Until you do, you will scream."

"Jesus Christ."

Charles Hostetler picked up his bag, walked to the door. His look for the first time was severe, almost angry. "I regret you forced me to be specific, Mr. Books. If you need me, telephone. Good day, sir."

And thus, J. B. Books gets ready for the hardest battle of his life, a battle he is guaranteed to lose. He has gained a reputation as an assassin, and he’s never backed down from a fight. If these are to be his last few weeks on earth, he is going to go out like a man.

But there are other things to consider. He takes up lodgings with Bond Rogers, a widow with one son, Gillom. There is reason to worry about Gillom, who’s been keeping bad company of late. Gillom looks up to and respects J. B. Books, however, and Books decides that he will teach Gillom what it takes to be a real man. At one point, he outlines his moral code to the youngster:

"Everybody has laws he lives by, I expect. I have mine as well."

"What laws?"

Bond Rogers was dismayed. Yet she waited, evidently as curious as her son.

"I will not be laid a hand on. I will not be wronged. I will not stand for an insult. I don't do these things to others. I require the same from them."

The Shootist is a poignant novel which chronicles the last days on earth of J. B. Books, and how he slowly gets ready for his own death. Reporters come to him eager for his life story, wanting to examine the psychology of a murderer. The undertaker comes by to see about Books’ final arrangements. Other local “tough guys” hear that the great assassin is on his deathbed and decide it’d be a fine feather in one’s cap to kill the infamous J. B. Books.

Throughout the novel, the author paints a fascinating and complex portrait of Books, Bond Rogers, and her son Gillom. These three are changed forever by the experience they share in this novel. There are elements of tragedy to this all, and Books’ journey in particular is expressed by a poem which Doc Hostetler shares with Books in an attempt to make conversation. These four lines of poetry keep showing up throughout the novel, and although the poem’s initial appearance is cryptic, its purpose becomes very clear by the novel’s end.

Overall, The Shootist is a masterpiece and a must-read for anyone who enjoys Westerns. Like the best genre fiction, it uses the boundaries to craft a quality piece of fiction. The result is tragic, poignant, and beautiful. The prose, the characters, hell, even the story on its own… all of them are terrific. This is a book that comes highly recommended – it must be experienced to be understood.

Patrick Ohl ©2013

Patrick Ohl is a 20-year old Canadian crime fiction aficionado who enjoys hobbies such as taxidermy and runs a dilapidated motel in the middle of nowhere alongside his crazed mother. He enjoys relaxing in his subterranean evil lair while watching his favourite hockey team, the Toronto Maple Leafs, and will occasionally make chicken chow mein to die for. His life is accompanied by a soundtrack composed by John Williams, and James Earl Jones provides occasional voice-overs.

As Halloween Ends

As Halloween ends for another year our oldest, Karl, will be depressed. Halloween is his favorite time of the year. He absolutely just loves it. Like his misguided worship of the New York Yankees, we tolerate it secure in the knowledge that this too is just not our fault.

Love you, Karl.

Bill Crider's Pop Culture Magazine: It's Halloween, so . . . .

Bill Crider's Pop Culture Magazine: It's Halloween, so . . . .: Amazon.com: Carnival of Death (Dead Man #9) eBook: Bill Crider, Lee Goldberg, William Rabkin: Kindle Store : Matt Cahill is working security...

Halloween 2013--One Final Comic

Considering how things go, I don't know why we don't see more of this.....

Halloween 2013-- One More Comic Ttreat

Another one I found funny....

Halloween 2013--- Another Comic Treat

At least I think so as I have a lot of trouble with these dang things.........

Bill Crider's Pop Culture Magazine: Free for Kindle for One Day Only

Bill Crider's Pop Culture Magazine: Free for Kindle for One Day Only: Amazon.com: Roman Dalton - Werewolf PI eBook: Paul D. Brazill: Kindle Store : When a full moon fills the night sky, Private Investigator Rom...

Death by Killing: Out Now: Manifesto Destination by Alec Cizak

Death by Killing: Out Now: Manifesto Destination by Alec Cizak: Full Dark City Press has given a home to ADR founding editor Alec Cizak's wonderful novella, a strange blend of Philip K. Dick and Raym...

Halloween 2013-- Another Comic

Another comic for today.....

Halloween 2013

I am not a fan of Halloween at all. But, in the spirit of the day I will be posting comics I find funny that are Halloween related during the course of the day. First up today is this one....

Time to Fly

as the clock has struck midnight and it is Halloween.......

At the Scene of the Crime: Devil

At the Scene of the Crime: Devil: Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit smoking. —Steve McCroskey, Airplane! After a particularly bad murder investigation (allude...

Back Home

Slight improvement on one deal so they are leaving everything alone. A week from Friday we do it again.

Blood Work

This hump day finds us heading down to Texas Oncology at Medical City Dallas for blood work on Sandi. As far as we know, she is doing okay. The blood work determines all. Hopefully the numbers will come up better than they did last week.

And just maybe her beloved Red Sox will win it all tonight.

Stupefying Stories: SHOWCASE #8 RELEASED!

Stupefying Stories: SHOWCASE #8 RELEASED!: For the latest news, latest download links, and best of all, FREE STORIES, check out our companion webzine, STUPEFYING STORIES SHOWCASE , re...

The Education of a Pulp Writer: The Little Boy Inside and Other Stories

The Education of a Pulp Writer: The Little Boy Inside and Other Stories: "The Little Boy Inside" was one of the premium short stories published at BEAT to a PULP. A toppermost of the pulpermost to slig...

The Education of a Pulp Writer: The Little Boy Inside and Other Stories

The Education of a Pulp Writer: The Little Boy Inside and Other Stories: "The Little Boy Inside" was one of the premium short stories published at BEAT to a PULP. A toppermost of the pulpermost to slig...

What Sells E-Books Today?

That is the question a lot of self published authors, including myself, are asking. We know the gold rush is over and now it is harder than ever to move our books. Dave Zeltserman has a few thoughts here in a piece well worth reading.

One thing really jumped out at me since I do so many reviews. He writes:

"Online book reviews: Web reviews seldom sell more than a couple of books--print or ebook the same."

While I don't think it is the responsibility of a reviewer to sell books (or stop somebody from buying a book either) it is rather depressing to have what amounts to be so little impact.

Dallas MWA-- Reminder - Get Prosecuted on Saturday, Nov 2

As received earlier today:

November 2 - Greg Miller, former Tarrant County Assistant District Attorney

Greg Miller was an Assistant Criminal District Attorney for Tarrant County from 1987 until 2013.  At the time of his retirement, he was one of the Deputy Chief Prosecutors for the Felony Division, a position he held since 1997.  In addition to supervising felony court teams, he also supervised the Homicide-Gang Unit.

             He received his BBA from TCU in 1976; his Master’s Degree in Criminal Justice from UTA in 1984; and his law degree from SMU in 1987.  He has been Board Certified in Criminal Law by the Texas Board of Legal Specialization since 1993.

             Prior to joining the District Attorney’s Office, he was a Fort Worth Police Officer.  Among his assignments he was a Crime Scene Investigator and Homicide Detective.

             He frequently lectures at Tarrant County Law Enforcement agencies on such topics as arrest, search & seizure, confession law, and interviewing techniques.

             He is now on the staff of Behavioral Measures & Forensic Services as a Polygraph Examiner. 

The Dallas MWASW group meets the first Saturday of each month at Texas Land & Cattle, 812 South Central Expressway, Richardson, TX 75080. Meeting time is 9:30 a.m.-11:30 a.m.There is a $5.00 door fee, cash only. All who attend are invited to remain for lunch. Contact info: james@gaskin.com

--
James E. Gaskin
http://www.gaskin.com
Writer / Consultant / Speaker
Latest book: Texas Hysterical Society

Write More? Maybe Not

A lot of self published authors these days make a case that one has to write several books a year to gain increasing sales. But, this idea of "write more" may be fatally flawed. Author Libby Fischer Hellman (one heck of an author you should be reading by the way) explains why that isn't the answer in her post here titled "New Rule: No more Binge Publishing."

Flat Out Funny

For the writers among us, I stumbled across this piece doing a critique on the Bible. You can read it here titled "God's Workshop" by Sam Apple. Funny stuff.

Sandi Crafting Christmas Vests

Yesterday afternoon before the storms came rocking the neighborhood Sandi was out on our back porch working on another project.

I am sure these will be up for sale on her iOffer store here pretty soon.

 No doubt she will update her blog here when they are available.

CrimeFictionWriter: Guest post

CrimeFictionWriter: Guest post: Today I take John Floyd's spot at SleuthSayers, a group blog by and for mystery writers, when I write about how to "Market-First, W...

Bill Crider's Pop Culture Magazine: Free for Kindle for a Limited Time

 Nice to see this making the rounds elsewhere....
Bill Crider's Pop Culture Magazine: Free for Kindle for a Limited Time: Amazon.com: RESCUE eBook: Earl Staggs: Kindle Store : A Mini Novel in 5 Chapters (9500 Words). Tall Chambers leads a secretive agency which ...

Possible Bad Food

Lots of places on the updated list regarding Reser's Fine Foods, Inc. as well as a lot more products. Go to the FDA webiste and check the list. Stay safe.

http://www.fda.gov/Safety/Recalls/ucm372345.htm?source=govdelivery&utm_medium=email&utm_source=govdelivery

Cowboys

Cowboys did it again up in Detroit. Makes their record 4-4 which is not getting the job done.

Somebody is going to have to take Dez Bryant to the side and explain to him how to act. Despicable behavior on the sidelines today. I have a feeling  what happened today with Dez and his sideline temper tantrums will be a lingering issue.

Sample Sunday: Excerpt from "Bowling With The Big Dogs" by Tim Matson

Back during the summer I was asked to take a look at Tim Matson's Bowling With The Big Dogs and provide some editorial guidance. Not that it really needed much input from me. I enjoyed the book immensely. I simply LOVED this book. It ranks up there in my top five of the year as I think it is an incredible read. I offered to Tim that if he would like to submit something for Sample Sunday I would be glad to run it. He agreed and sent the long sample below which follows the Amazon Synopsis…..

Drinker. Smoker. Detective. Smartass. Psychic?
The often sarcastic Moon Mullen isn't your average overweight detective who drinks to forget the past. Not that Moon Mullen doesn't drink--- he does and is very good at it. But, instead of drinking to forget, Moon Mullen does it to control the voices in his head because he hears thoughts and emotions. Being psychic has advantages in the detective business, but Moon Mullen's gift can be a curse as it is anything but consistent. A warped sense of humor allows him to survive, and a drive to catch a serial killer threatening his small Minnesota town gives Moon a chance to bring justice to the people in his past.

Chapter One

Now

The guy with the shaker was beginning to make my teeth itch.

While I’m sure that his parents had been ecstatic when he showed some interest in music as a child, they probably didn’t envision this in their wildest nightmares. He was holding it in both of his hands, caressing it and shaking it like he had a secret he was just dying to tell. From the looks of him, I think I knew what it was, but wish I didn’t.

The bar had a typically backwoods Minnesotan name: The Deer Head Bar. This was owing to the stuffed Monster Buck head that was mounted on an age-darkened plaque that looked almost petrified. The story that goes along with the taxidermist’s work was equally old, and had magnified to epic proportions. Apparently the old guy that shot the Monster Buck just grazed a slug along the deer’s head, stunning it, and he was so afraid that it was going to get away that he ran across the fifty yards that separated them, jumped on his back, and stabbed him with his hunting knife, somehow finding the massive heart. The scar on the head of the buck was still visible, so I guess it was worth talking about. When I first moved here, I innocently asked, “Why didn’t he just load another slug in his shotgun and blow his brains out?” Obviously I’m not the hunter type, because the sneers and gasps from the crowd nearly blew my head off.

“His gun must have jammed! And besides which, you asshole, he had to save the fucking rack!”

Didn’t make any sense to me, but I don’t get off on blowing woodland creatures away. When I have a craving for meat, I’ll get it from the butcher, where I’m sure it would have said “moo” a few times before it meets its demise. In any case, I found out later that the story of Roger the Monster Buck was somewhat less than true. What really happened was that the hunter was driving back home after a heavy night of drinking, hit the deer with his rusted Ford Escort and somehow managed to rope it on what was left of the car’s roof. He then hid it in his barn for two days until Deer Opener, the holiest of holy days, and brought it out to the accolades of his peers. Not as Tarzan-like as the first tale, but much more believable.

The bar itself was typical in its Midwestern style. Along with Roger the Monster Buck, the place had the usual assortment of neon signs advertising beer and liquor, a long bar with a brass rail on the bottom to rest your feet, and several long-legged stools with stools around them so you could eat your greasy bar food and wash it down with the beverage of your choice in comfort. The bar was shaped like a boxcar, long and thin, with a flyspecked picture window in the front overlooking the main street through town, and bathrooms in the back, each marked, appropriately, Bucks and Does. I knew enough about animals that I didn’t screw that up. I also didn’t ask how the monster buck got the name Roger. Sometimes it’s best to leave well enough alone.

It was well enough into the evening that the Twins were playing on the nicotine-smeared television, Radke on the mound, and the sounds of the game were interrupted by the reverberations of heavy feet clomping over the dirty carpet. A herd of plus-sized women were stampeding in, followed by a short, thin guy holding a shaker.

Oh yeah, remember him?

The women all crowded around the karaoke machine, flipping switches and creating feedback from the microphone, getting giggles from all of them. As I listened, I figured out they were all on vacation, tired of the streets and bars of Minneapolis, wanting to go native out here in the sticks. All of them were wearing Doc Martins, and all of them had plaid shirts and blue jeans on. All of them also had multiple earrings, and most of them had earrings implanted in places that would not be considered anywhere near an ear. The leader of the flock stood on the small stage and began to sing My Guy with her tongue so far in her cheek that she could tuck it in her back pocket. The unfortunate pocket was sitting on an ass that was slightly smaller than the city of Duluth, without the benefit of the lake breeze.

The music, and I use the term loosely, all but drowned out the announcers of the ball game, but I watched anyway, trying to figure out how many hits Radke would give up in the first inning. A guy a few stools down from me was muttering, “He’s the ace? Christ! He’s given up four hits and there’s only one out!”

I didn’t know why I was putting up with these fingernails across a mental blackboard. I just stopped up to buy lottery tickets for Saturday’s drawing. Twenty-eight million bucks, and I don’t mean Rogers. Enough money that all of this crap would be a distant memory. But when I asked for my tickets, the thirst for a Seven and Seven came on me like a teenager finding out that it doesn’t grow hair on your palms like Mom always warned. And now the little flashes were growing inside my head, and that usually didn’t start until I’ve drank five or six, not the two that had already found their way down my throat.

The bar owner, Steve, walked by with a “Howza boy?”, but with the prices in this place it should have been “Howza credit rating?” I don’t really begrudge him the price of the drinks; everybody has to make a buck. He’s also a friend of mine, and has carried tabs for me when I’m a little short. He’s also driven me home when I’ve had a few too many more times than I can count; one perk of spending a ton of money in the same bar. Steve is as big as I am, six foot and a bit and about 230 pounds, but his waist has remained at about 33 while mine blossomed to 40. He was a high school football star, but blew out his knee before his senior year. He glossed over his regret by saying that it gave him more time to chase women and drink beer. His sandy colored hair was chopped Marine Corp style, and he has one of those Fu Manchu mustaches that went out of style about twenty years ago. I smiled at him, and saluted the haircut. Semper Fi, baby!

The sound of a cat being skewered on top of the karaoke machine was beginning to overpower the ballgame and my thoughts of how much money I was wasting in this place, so I turned back to our lovely gender-bending star as she started on her rendition of that timeless classic, You Are the Wind Beneath My Wings, the rest of them acting like groupies, their eyes glistening. The guy with the shaker was another groupie, and he had the amazing foresight to bring his own instrument…yeah, right…to this musical slaughter. Copious amounts of hair gel were slathered on his black locks; spiking it up, giving the impression of an instrument of torture I remembered from a PBS special on the Spanish Inquisition. But I don’t think those nasty Catholics bleached the tips a platinum blonde. Long silver teardrop earrings with rhinestones glued to them hung from both of his small, flat ears, and sparkled when he shook his head. And while he didn’t quite keep the beat, he did manage to giggle convulsively at the end of each song, and squeak out, “Wow! That was so good! You are so cool!” His voice sounded like a cross between South Park’s Eric Cartman and Truman Capote. The high, effeminate giggle was a good match for the cold sore on the side of his mouth that stuck out like Mama Cass at a Bulimics-R-Us convention.

Our shining star started to sing Swing Low, Sweet Chariot in a style that mimicked William Shatner…For God’s sake Scotty, beam me the fuck up!...and the groupies, as if on cue, put their arms around each other and began rocking back and forth. One even sparked her lighter, tears glowing in her eyes.

Oh brother.

I didn’t know there was a part for a shaker, but our friend had access to musical information that others didn’t. “Swing low…shaakashaaka…sweet chariot…shaakashaakashake…comin’ for to carry…shakeshakerattleshake…me hoooooome…rattlerattleshake…”

Apparently cats do have nine lives, because this one was being tortured again. Not skewered this time. Maybe a blowtorch? And never a spear handy when you need one. I started to laugh out loud; I couldn’t help myself. They were so…awful. As I looked up, wiping the tears from my eyes, I noticed the glares from the moo camp. It reminded me how out of place an overweight, white heterosexual male laughing at a bar full of overweight butch women and a guy with what looked like radiation poisoning on the side of his mouth can be. Not to mention that poor cat that was being killed repeatedly in the persona of karaoke. If looks could kill, like the man says, they would all be doing 25 to life.

I have nothing against gay people or transgender, or whatever other acronym you happen to be. It seems to me that the world is a harsh place, and finding someone you can love is a rare and wonderful thing, and if it happens to be your nature, then you have the right to be just as miserable as every straight person. Get married. Find out what a thrill a minute that is. But bad talent filled with pretension? That, my friends, opens you up to all sorts of justifiable smart-ass comments and outright laughter, in my book.

My gaze was drawn back to the television as my erstwhile bar mate hollered out that Radke actually struck someone out.

“In the first inning! Unfucking believable!”

A grin spread across my face. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad night after all, and considering how shitty my life was as of late, it would be a nice change. But, as usual, it wasn’t to be.

The short hairs on the back of my neck were beginning to stand up, and a wave of…gross…started to bounce around the inside of my head. A movement caught my eye, and as I looked over at the herpes-inflamed rhythm dork for my All-American Girl Band, my already twisted brain didn’t quite comprehend what I saw.

He was still sitting there, but something wasn’t right. The irritating shaker thing was on the bar, not in his greasy hands, as it was before. And something else.

Oh. I see. His head is gone.

The body was still kind of slumped on the bar stool, the fingers in the right hand twitching slightly, and the blood from where his head used to be was beginning to spray across the bar, splattering bottles and glasses as his heart kept pumping.

Now, mind you, in the split second I saw I noticed this, I came up with the response that usually pops in my head when I have been drinking: You’ve finally done it and gone absolutely bat-shit crazy. Where’s Elvis? He’s around somewhere…

The next glance confirmed two things: I wasn’t crazy and the vibes I was feeling weren’t false.

But there was a guy wearing, of all things, bib overalls and a long-sleeved flannel shirt with red and black stripes. He had it buttoned to the top, with a black turtleneck peeking up to his jaw line. The trouble was that it wasn’t his jaw line.

It was Richard Nixon’s.

And then the screaming started.

Tim Matson ©2013

By the way, the book is FREE through Tuesday at Amazon.

Lesa's latest Contest

As posted elsewhere.....

This week, I'm giving away a copy of Spencer Quinn's latest Chet and Bernie mystery, The Sound and the Furry, and The Cat Sitter's Cradle by Blaize & John Clement. Details available on my blog, http://www.lesasbookcritiques.blogspot.com. Entries from the U.S. only, please.

Lesa

Lesa Holstine

lesa.holstine@gmail.com 

http://www.lesasbookcritiques.blogspot.com

FREE Book Alert--- "RESCUE" by Earl Staggs

I was privileged to see an early version of this and it is good. Get your copy for free while you can....

 

Moments (Tense, Passing, Ordinary...): New Review: The Devil's Bones by Kevin Tipple

Moments (Tense, Passing, Ordinary...): New Review: The Devil's Bones by Kevin Tipple: " Reminiscent in style and tone of his many westerns, The Devil’s Bones is a very complicated mystery that pulls the reader in quickly...

KRL This Week-- JoAnna Carl,Kylie Logan, Jessie Crocket, Christopher Rice, Halloween, short stories, giveaways & more in KRL this week

As posted elsewhere earlier today....

Up this morning in Kings River Life a fun Halloween cat short story by mystery author Elaine Faber http://kingsriverlife.com/10/26/the-shopping-bag-a-halloween-cat-short-story/

Also up this morning we review & giveaway a fun group of Penguin food mysteries-"Drizzled With Death" by Jessie Crockett, "Chili Con Carnage": A Chili Cook-Off Mystery By Kylie Logan, "Murder and Marinara": An Italian Kitchen Mystery By Rosie Genova, and "The Chocolate Moose Motive" By JoAnna Carl http://kingsriverlife.com/10/26/penguin-fall-food-mysteries/

Also up a review & giveaway of Christopher Rice's new supernatural thriller "The Heavens Rise" along with an interview with Christopher http://kingsriverlife.com/10/26/the-heavens-rise-by-christopher-rice/

Halloween season seemed the perfect time to write something about TV vampires including my favorites on "Buffy The Vampire Slayer" all the way to the new "Dracula" TV show--and some of these vampires are detectives http://kingsriverlife.com/10/26/vampires-on-tv/

Also up this morning a Halloween mystery short story by Kathy Kingston http://kingsriverlife.com/10/26/this-i-know-a-halloween-mystery-short-story/

And a Halloween short story with sort of a mystery twist by Gail Farrelly http://kingsriverlife.com/10/26/lights-out-a-halloween-short-story/

Mystery author Eric Mayer shares a fun Halloween blog post with Kings River Life Magazine this morning http://kingsriverlife.com/10/26/too-old-to-trick-or-treat/

For those who enjoy mystery combined with the supernatural we have a review and giveaway of Steve Bein's new novel "Year of the Demon" http://kingsriverlife.com/10/26/year-of-the-demon-by-steve-bein/

Lastly, over in KRL Lite we have a review of the latest John Rebus novel by Ian Rankin http://kingsriverlife.blogspot.com/2013/10/standing-in-another-mans-grave-by-ian.html

Happy reading,
Lorie Ham

--

KRL is now selling advertising & we have special discounts for
mystery authors & bookstores! Ask me about it!
Mystery section in Kings River Life http://KingsRiverLife.com

Check out my own blog at http://mysteryratscloset.blogspot.com/

Review: The Devil’s Bones by Larry D. Sweazy

Late August of 2004 finds Deputy Jordan McManus in the bed of a former girlfriend early one morning while drought grips Dukaine, Indiana. Like the drought that grips the area, McManus is gripped by the past. A past that includes the love of his life, Ginny, who has been married for quite some time and has changed. Whatever they had once, years ago, has been tarnished by time and the fact she has a child and is married to Ed Kirsch. Not known for being mentally stable at the best of times, were he to discover what McManus and Ginny have done the results could be disastrous.

Instead of spending time with Ginny, McManus is supposed to be out patrolling the area. If he had been out doing his job, he might have been out at Longer’s Pond with his boss, Marshal Holister Coggins a little quicker. He might have had more time to secure the scene. He might have been able to examine the small skeleton in the mud a little bit. Maybe if he had been more focused on doing his job, he might have been able to prevent the shooting that took down Holister and wounded him by somebody who laughed like a maniac while doing it.

Moving back and forth from 1985 to late August of 2004, author Larry D. Sweazy weaves a complicated tale of pain, loss, racism, regret, and redemption in The Devil’s Bones. The read shifts in point of view throughout the book as the pieces slowly come together in various mysteries. Each secret has had a damaging ripple effect over the years and has caused numerous events --many of which Deputy Jordan McManus has little knowledge of despite being on the edge of many of them. Relying on his brother nicknamed “Spider,” a tenuous decision at the best of times, McManus works to clear his name and end the current carnage. The shooting of Holister and himself is just the start of a wave of violence that will also uncover the past and answer questions that have haunted the small town for years.

Reminiscent in style and tone of his many westerns, The Devil’s Bones is a very complicated mystery that pulls the reader in quickly and never lets go. Rich in details, characters, and setting, nothing is simple in this read where drought finally exposes all the secrets of the past.

Amazon Associate Purchase Link: https://amzn.to/3UESOeM 

ARC provided by the author way back in October 2011 for my use in an objective review. 

Kevin R. Tipple ©2013

I'm A Voracious Reader : Friday Featured Spotlight ~ Untreed Reads & 4 Myst...

I'm A Voracious Reader : Friday Featured Spotlight ~ Untreed Reads & 4 Myst...: Founded in 2008,  Untreed Reads  is a digital-first publisher and ebook distributor with one of the largest distribution channels in ...

Another Day--Another Memory

The picture below posted to Facebook today by folks at Rocky Mountain Park is of the stunningly beautiful Emerald Lake. Another place Dad and I made it to a few times over the years.

The FFB List

The list for this week is up on Patti's blog here.

Back Home

As this was a cancer doctor and blood work morning. Some of the blood work came back off so medications have been adjusted. We go back Wednesday in the hopes that the blood work will be better. If not, I don't know what happens next. Worry about that if we have to.