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Down with the Underdogs

Page 24

by Ian Truman


  By Warren Moore

  Broken Glass Waltzes

  By Andrew Nette

  Gunshine State

  By Gerald M. O’Connor

  The Origins of Benjamin Hackett

  By Rick Ollerman

  Blood Work

  By Chantelle Aimée Osman

  Mystery! The Origins Game Fair 2018 Anthology

  By Marcus Pelegrimas

  Blind Eye

  By Gary Phillips

  The Perpetrators

  Scoundrels: Tales of Greed, Murder and Financial Crimes (editor)

  Treacherous: Grifters, Ruffians and Killers

  3 the Hard Way

  By Gary Phillips, Tony Chavira, Manoel Magalhães and Bryan Lee

  Beat L.A. (Graphic Novel)

  By Tom Pitts

  Hustle

  American Static

  By Thomas Pluck

  Bad Boy Boogie

  Life During Wartime

  By Michael Pool

  Texas Two-Step

  By Robert J. Randisi

  Upon My Soul

  Souls of the Dead

  Envy the Dead

  By Rob Riley

  Thin Blue Line

  By Sandra Ruttan

  The Spying Moon (*)

  By Charles Salzberg

  Devil in the Hole

  Swann’s Last Song

  Swann Dives In

  Swann’s Lake of Despair

  Swann’s Way Out

  Second Story Man

  By Scott Loring Sanders

  Shooting Creek and Other Stories

  By Linda Sands

  3 Women Walk Into a Bar (TP only)

  Grand Theft Cargo

  Precious Cargo

  By Ryan Sayles

  The Subtle Art of Brutality

  Warpath

  Let Me Put My Stories In You

  Albatross

  By John Shepphird

  The Shill

  Kill the Shill

  Beware the Shill

  By Nathan Singer

  Blackchurch Furnace

  By Anthony Neil Smith

  Yellow Medicine

  Hogdoggin’

  The Baddest Ass

  Holy Death

  All the Young Warriors

  Once a Warrior

  Worm

  Psychosomatic

  The Drummer

  Choke on Your Lies

  XXX Shamus

  By Liam Sweeny

  Welcome Back, Jack

  Presiding Over the Damned

  By Art Taylor, editor

  Murder Under the Oaks: Bouchercon Anthology 2015

  By Ian Truman

  Grand Trunk and Shearer

  Down with the Underdogs

  By James Ray Tuck, editor

  Mama Tried 1

  Mama Tried 2 (*)

  By Nathan Walpow

  The Logan Triad

  One Last Hit

  The Manipulated

  By Lono Waiwaiole

  Wiley’s Lament

  Wiley’s Shuffle

  Wiley’s Refrain

  Dark Paradise

  Leon’s Legacy

  By George Williams

  Inferno and Other Stories

  Zoë

  The Selected Letters of the Late Biagio Serafim Sciarra

  By Eric Miles Williamson

  East Bay Grease

  By Jim Wilsky

  Sort ’Em Out Later

  By TG Wolff

  Exacting Justice

  By Frank Zafiro and Eric Beetner

  The Backlist

  The Short List

  The Getaway List

  By Frank Zafiro and Jim Wilsky

  Blood on Blood

  Queen of Diamonds

  Closing the Circle (*)

  Down & Out: The Magazine

  Volume 1 Issue 1: Reed Farrel Coleman (featured author)

  Volume 1 Issue 2: Bill Crider (featured author)

  Volume 1 Issue 3: Barry Lancet (featured author)

  Published by ABC Group Documentation, an imprint of Down & Out Books

  By Alec Cizak

  Down on the Street

  Breaking Glass

  By Brandon Daily

  A Murder Country (*)

  By Grant Jerkins

  Abnormal Man

  A Scholar of Pain

  By Robert Leland Taylor

  Through the Ant Farm

  Published by All Due Respect, an imprint of Down & Out Books

  By Greg Barth

  Selena: Book One

  Diesel Therapy: Selena Book Two

  Suicide Lounge: Selena Book Three

  Road Carnage: Selena Book Four

  Everglade: Selena Book Five

  By Eric Beetner

  Nine Toes in the Grave

  By Phil Beloin Jr.

  Revenge is a Redhead

  By Math Bird

  Histories of the Dead and Other Stories

  In Loco Parentis

  Welcome to Holyhell (*)

  By Paul D Brazill

  The Last Laugh: Crime Stories

  Last Year’s Man

  By Sarah M. Chen

  Cleaning Up Finn

  By Alec Cizak

  Crooked Roads: Crime Stories

  Manifesto Destination

  By Pablo D’Stair and Chris Rhatigan

  You Don’t Exist

  By C.S. DeWildt

  Kill ’Em with Kindness

  Love You to a Pulp

  By Paul Greenberg

  Dead Guy in the Bathtub: Stories

  By Paul Heatley

  FatBoy

  By Jake Hinkson

  The Deepening Shade

  By Preston Lang

  The Sin Tax

  Sunk Costs

  The Carrier

  By Tom Leins

  Repetition Kills You (*)

  By Marietta Miles

  Route 12

  By Mike Miner

  Prodigal Sons

  By Mike Monson

  A Killer’s Love

  Criminal Love and Other Stories

  Tussinland

  What Happens in Reno

  By Chris Orlet

  A Taste of Shotgun

  By Matt Phillips

  Three Kinds of Fool

  Accidental Outlaws

  By Rob Pierce

  The Things I Love Will Kill Me Yet: Stories

  Uncle Dust

  Vern in the Heat

  With the Right Enemies

  By Michael Pool

  Debt Crusher

  By Chris Rhatigan

  Race to the Bottom

  Squeeze

  The Kind of Friends Who Murder Each Other

  By Ryan Sayles

  I’m Not Happy ’til You’re Not Happy: Crime Stories

  By Ryan Sayles and Chris Rhatigan

  Two Bullets Solve Everything

  By Daniel Vlasaty

  A New and Different Kind of Pain

  Only Bones

  By William E. Wallace

  Dead Heat with the Reaper

  Hangman’s Dozen

  Published by Shotgun Honey, an imprint of Down & Out Books

  By Hector Acosta

  Hardway

  By Rusty Barnes

  Knuckledragger

  Ridgerunner

  By Aaron Philip Clark

  The Science of Paul

  A Healthy Fear of Man

  By Angel Luis Colón

  The Fury of Blacky Jaguar

  Blacky Jaguar Against the Cool Clux Cult

  By Marie S. Crosswell

  Texas, Hold Your Queens

  By DeLeon DeMicoli

  Les Cannibales

  By Chris DeWildt

  Suburban Dick

  By Christopher Irvin


  Federales

  By Nick Kolakowski

  A Brutal Bunch of Heartbroken Saps

  Slaughterhouse Blues

  By Preston Lang

  The Carrier

  By R. Daniel Lester

  Dead Clown Blues

  By Lawrence Maddos

  Fast Bang Booze

  By Mike Miner

  Hurt Hawks

  By Tom Pitts

  Knuckleball

  By Ryan Sayles

  Goldfinches

  By Max Sheridan

  Dillo

  By Albert Tucher

  The Place of Refuge

  The Hollow Vessel

  (*) Coming soon

  Back to TOC

  Here is a preview from the crime thriller Once a Killer by Martin Bodenham…

  Chapter 1

  The two men had nothing against the old woman as they bludgeoned her to death. It wasn’t personal; she was bait, nothing more.

  Easing back on the gas, Michael Hoffman peered through the clunking wipers of his rental car, looking for the place they’d taken his mother’s mutilated body. He passed an empty Mexican restaurant, then a laundromat with a group of young men inside who looked like they were in the middle of a fight. As he checked the central locking system for the third time since leaving the freeway, a bright neon sign up ahead caught his attention—Cook County Funeral Home—Affordable Funerals by People Who Care Since 1954. Its red light, high up on a steel pole, and the pouring rain conspired to distort his view through the windshield. Rainwater pelted his face when he opened the side window and leaned out of the car, searching for a break in the wall. The entrance to the private parking area had to be close. The man he’d spoken to on the phone yesterday had warned him: if he wanted it back, he should avoid leaving his vehicle on the street.

  There it was. At the bottom of the illuminated sign stood two brick pillars on either side of a narrow driveway. Michael pulled off the road and entered the vacant car park. As he killed the engine, the digital clock on the dashboard flashed 9:10 p.m. He was late—very late—and there were no lights on inside. Maybe the man had already left.

  The iPhone in Michael’s jacket pocket rang. As he retrieved it, an image of his wife appeared on the screen. For a moment, he thought about taking the call, but decided against the idea; lying to Caroline again about where he was tonight would only take up valuable time.

  When the door at the side of the building opened, a tall, muscular man in his early forties stepped out.

  “Hello,” Michael said, jumping out of the car. He ran over to the man, soaking the bottom of his suit trousers in the puddles forming in the potholed tarmac. “I’m really sorry I’m late.”

  The man threw him a shit-look. “I said no later than quarter to nine.” He turned the key to lock the door. “We’re done here tonight.”

  “My flight was delayed coming into O’Hare. I got here as soon as I could.”

  The man shrugged his shoulders. “Not my problem. You’ll have to come back tomorrow morning.”

  “I have to do this tonight. Please.”

  “I can’t help you. Now, if it’s okay, I’d like to get out of this rain.”

  Michael reached into his jacket, and the man flinched.

  “Yesterday, you wanted a hundred.” Michael took out a bunch of notes from his Mulberry wallet. “Would two hundred change your mind? I really have to see her tonight.”

  The man relaxed then smiled. “Make it three, and I’ll give you ten minutes.”

  Moments later, Michael stood waiting in the mortuary, the pungent odor of disinfectant failing to mask the smell of death.

  “You said you weren’t family, right?” The man was wheeling out a shrouded body on a gurney.

  “Right.” Michael looked away. “I’m here for a good friend who can’t make it.”

  “It’s a good job your friend’s not here.” He nodded toward the body. “This one’s a bit of a mess.”

  The knot tightened in Michael’s stomach. “I’d appreciate some privacy.”

  “Sure. Ten minutes, remember.”

  When the man left, Michael stood in the cold room, staring at the gurney. His fingers trembled when he reached for the white sheet. Bracing himself for a shock, he drew back the cloth, revealing long, gray hair that had been combed straight back. Holding his breath, slowly he revealed the woman’s face before lurching backward, almost losing his balance.

  “Jesus.” Michael fought back the bile in his throat.

  His mother’s head looked like a deflated football. It was obvious her nose had been broken and cheekbones shattered. Dark bruises covered what remained of her face, and on her neck, remnants of dried blood still showed on her pale skin where they’d failed to clean her properly. Maybe the staff here had figured nobody in their right mind would want to visit her in this condition. But Michael had to be here. Not only had he come a long way, but he’d also taken a great risk for this last chance to see for himself the bitch was actually dead.

  Although he hadn’t seen her for almost twenty-five years, his mother looked older than he’d expected—much older. She’d have been sixty-four on her last birthday, but now, even allowing for her injuries, she had the weathered appearance of a woman well into her eighties. Years of alcohol abuse, and God knows what else, had eaten her away.

  He leaned forward and stared at the sunken face of the monster who had made his early childhood a living hell. As Michael drew closer, a whiff of cleaning agent entered his nostrils, and he recoiled at the memory it stirred. He remembered the times his mother would squirt Clorox into his mouth if she caught him lying or, worse, stealing food. Apart from the regular beatings with her walking stick, food deprivation had been her favorite way to torture him. What kind of woman could do these things to her own child?

  “Come on,” said the man, returning to the room. “You’ve had more than ten minutes.”

  “Just a while longer.” Michael kept his eyes on his mother. “Please.”

  “I can’t do it.”

  “All I’m asking for is a few minutes.”

  “You shouldn’t even be in here now. You’re not family, and you don’t really have an appointment. I’d lose my job if the owners found out about this.”

  The man pulled the sheet back over the body, and Michael watched as the gurney was wheeled away.

  By the time he stepped out of the building, the rain had stopped and a smell of fried onions from the Mexican restaurant down the street clung to the humid air. Hearing the sound of male voices, Michael glanced across the unlit car park. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out three young men hanging around his vehicle, checking it out.

  “Nice wheels,” said one of them, leaning on the hood as Michael approached. “Don’t see many like this around here.”

  Michael cursed the rental company for upgrading his vehicle. He’d known it would stand out where he was going, but there hadn’t been enough time to change it and still make it to the funeral home before the man left.

  Michael raised his palms. “Hey, I don’t want any trouble, guys.”

  The biggest of the three men swaggered over to him. Towering over Michael, he stood only six inches away and grinned.

  “We just wanna take it for a ride.” He held out his hand for the keys.

  Michael stared at the thug. “I told you I don’t want any trouble.”

  “Just give him the keys, Whiteboy,” shouted the man leaning on the hood.

  “I think I’m gonna have some fun with this one,” said the large man, turning his face toward his friend for a second.

  Michael kneed him hard in the groin and, as the giant lunged forward, struck the man’s face with the sharp tip of his elbow, knocking him out cold. The other two men froze, stunned by the speed at which their accomplice had been brought down by this stranger in a suit.

  “You want some of this?” said Michael, crouching with fists clen
ched and pointing with his chin to the unconscious man lying face down on the wet tarmac. “Do you?”

  “You boys better get out of here,” shouted the funeral home worker, leaving the building behind Michael. “He’s with me.”

  The two men ran off as the man came over to attend to the bleeding victim on the ground.

  “Thanks for your help.” Michael reached into his pocket for the car keys. “I didn’t want any of this.”

  “I didn’t do it for you.” The man pointed to the comatose lump at his feet. “I saw what you did to this one. You seem pretty handy with your fists.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “He’ll recover. Look, I don’t know who you are, but you’d better leave before those guys come back with their friends.”

  Michael climbed into the car and sped away without looking back. A few miles down the road, he pulled over into a Denny’s car park, the adrenaline still coursing through his body. He closed his eyes and thought about what had just happened. It was stupid. If he’d hurt that man and the police had been called, how would he have explained to Caroline what he was doing here?

  When he’d calmed down, he took out his cell phone and hit the speed dial for home.

  “I tried calling you earlier,” said Caroline, answering the call.

  “I know. Unfortunately, you rang just as they were calling us back into the meeting.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Hey, it’s no problem. How are the girls?”

 

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