Case of the Sad Luck Dame

Whit Howland

Description

Huey Dusk, the clown detective, is back. This time Sadie Trophet, a client and brief lover, is murdered in front of him. Her death sets off a mystery, which then turns into a conspiracy involving shady corporations and sexy super spies.More blood, guts and grease paint from the world of crazy mimes, man-children and corrupt clown cops in this tawdry tale of circus noir.

Sujets

• Short story
• Thriller

Informations

• Publié par: Untreed Reads
• Date de parution: 01 janvier 0001
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781611873191
• Langue: English

Extrait

Table of Contents
Copyright
The Case of the Sad Luck Dame by Whit Howland
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
The Case of the Sad Luck Dame (A Huey Dusk Caper)
By Whit Howland
Copyright 2012 by Whit Howland
Cover Copyright 2012 by Ginny Glass and Untreed Reads Publishing
The author is hereby established as the sole holder of the copyright. Either the publisher (Untreed Reads) or author may enforce copyrights to the fullest extent.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold, reproduced or transmitted by any means in any form or given away to other people without specific permission from the author and/or publisher. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to the living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Also by Whit Howland and Untreed Reads Publishing
Huey Dusk
http://www.untreedreads.com
The Case of the Sad Luck Dame (A Huey Dusk Caper)
By Whit Howland
Chapter One
Something’s wrong, Huey Dusk thought. But he couldn’t pinpoint what it was even with his clown sense and Langley training. He sat with the crowd as they laughed when the female puppet stuck a cherry bomb in the back of the male puppet’s pants. Everyone ducked at the sound of the explosion, but Huey remained upright and smoothed his green hair over his bald spot then scratched his big red bulb nose. He was cooling his heels until his meeting with his latest client.
He looked up at the vaulted ceiling, the stained glass windows, the plush carpeted aisles and the stage’s gold velvet curtain. This was one of Boss L’Enfant’s nicest puppet joints.
He had played his share of bad children’s gigs in dives all around the city. So he knew a classy place when he saw one—and that’s what was bothering him.
“A joint like this would have security,” he muttered under his breath.
He looked over in the corner and saw nothing. That wasn’t L’Enfant’s style; he would have his muscle visible, guarding the exits and the front door.
For good measure, Huey looked again for some evidence of security and that’s when he saw a gun barrel peering out from the darkness. He stood up and pulled a nickel-plated cannon out of his suit coat.
Children and mothers screamed when they saw him toting the big pistol. Machine gun fire interrupted the shrieks as two clowns dressed in ’50s garb and wielding Tommy guns appeared out of nowhere and showered the auditorium with bullets. Then they turned and riddled the stage.
Two burly men wearing berets and dressed in black fell out from behind the stage and fell to the floor. As bodies bled out on the carpet, people continued to scream.
“Get down! Get down!” Dusk barked.
The two clowns swung their guns toward Huey. He instinctively ducked behind a seat and braced himself for the gunfire that was sure to follow. All he heard was a click.
He popped up and saw the two reloading their weapons. He pointed his gun at one of them and pulled the trigger. Blood erupted from the man’s chest as he was thrown back against the wall and killed instantly.
Dusk let out a low growl and turned his sights on the other thug. He took aim for his head and fired. The man was launched into the air, his body a tangled and twisted mess when it hit the floor.
As he stepped over terrified women and children, the clown twirled his gun on his finger and stuffed it in his pants. When he reached the aisle, he pulled out a cigar, popped it in his mouth and lit it. He took a long draw and casually blew smoke at the ceiling. His interest then shifted to one of the bodies. He knelt down to go through the dead clown’s pockets, pulling out an empty billfold and stuffing it into his jacket. Then he noticed a hardened drop of glue on the man’s forehead.
“Fake clowns,” he muttered.
* * *
Several flash bulbs went off as police photographers took pictures of the carnage. Uniforms had herded the audience behind police tape at the back of the auditorium. Huey stood by the two lead detectives.
One was a heavy-set man in a rumpled coat with a salt and pepper crew cut and a nose two sizes bigger than it should have been. The other detective was a clown with a short, orange afro speckled with green, red and blue, like sprinkles on a doughnut. His bright red overcoat was just as rumpled as the other detective’s, and he had a big swollen clown nose that matched his partner’s.
“Sure make a big mess, don’t you, Dusk!” the clown detective sneered.
“They drew down on kids,” Dusk said with the cigar clenched between his teeth.
The clown held Huey’s gaze and then shook his head and turned his attention again toward the bodies.
The other detective pulled out a pen and prodded one of the corpses. “Something funny about the clothes,” he remarked.
The clown cop scratched his head. Then he tapped his scuffed giant wing tip with his striped pen.
“Checker Hill Mob!” the detective said.
Dusk looked at the bodies and, for the first time, made the connection.
He hadn’t thought about the Checker Hill Mob in a long time. They were a notorious clown gang that had been wiped out by the Mime Syndicate years ago.
It was a bloody war and no one knew how it had started. Some say one of the clowns angered Mumsy, the mime boss, when he made a comment about his wife’s harelip. Others say it was a dispute over money and territory. But in the end, all anyone knew was that one day the clown gangsters disappeared and the mimes moved in and took over their action.
The clown detective cleared his throat and brought Huey back from his journey through crime history.
“You know a little something about the Checker Hill Mob, don’t you Dusk…especially, since your worthless dad was their number one enforcer.”
Dusk smiled and relit his stogie.
“About as much as you two girls know about being corrupt cops and worthless booze hounds.”
Dusk blew smoke in their direction.
The clown detective scowled and pulled out a bright orange leather sap and smacked it against his hand. “Give me a reason!” he growled.
“I’ll give you five.”
“How’d you like a tap to the snot box and a mouth full of bloody Chiclets?”
Huey smiled and gnashed his teeth.
The clown detective, seething, started to lunge for Dusk, but the human cop pulled him back.
“Skip it, Lou, I’d book him, but he’s got a license to carry and he’s got self-defense going for him.”
“He knows something!” Lou sneered.
“Nah, he doesn’t know cotton candy from Q-tips. Besides, the sooner we wrap this up, the sooner we can get to the party I got planned for us up at the spot.”
The thought of a party momentarily softened Lou. He gave Huey another hard stare and spat in his direction.
“Scram, Dusk!” the human cop said.
“You geniuses might want to check to see if they’re wearing wigs,” Huey said as he walked toward the back exit.
* * *
Sadie Trophet’s hourglass frame was bathed in blue light and silhouetted in smoke. She stood behind a silver microphone and sang “Cry Me a River.”
Huey sat toward the back of the night club and drummed his fingers on the brim of his fedora that rested next to him. It wasn’t much of a hat, but he liked the purple polka-dotted band. It also went well with his cheap suit and matching trench coat. This is what his clients expected a private detective to look like; and, until his music gigs returned, he was stuck with the gumshoe get-up.
He was here to see Sadie. She had hired him to snoop on her husband, Dick Knuckleford. She suspected he was cheating on her. She was right. Huey had the glossies to prove it.
“Another bubble gum whiskey?” the waitress asked.
Huey nodded and she walked off.
During Sadie’s last number she went into the audience and worked the room. She chucked guys on the chin, put her leg up on an empty chair and pulled her dress up to reveal more skin and a garter. She drew out a tiny flask from her bosom, took off one of her stiletto heels and poured booze into the shoe. When the shoe was full, she funneled it down the gullet of the expectant male.
When she approached Huey’s table, she gave him a hip swish, sang a few bars in his face, then pranced away. He did his best to appear stoic and aloof. But one could see that the woman dazzled him just as she did the others in the lounge.
Sadie finally finished her number and was rewarded with cheers and applause. She blushed, returned to the stage and disappeared behind the curtain.
The waitress returned with Huey’s drink. He paid her and gulped it down like soda, making a sour face as the liquid burned its way down his throat. He got up and walked through the kitchen.
* * *
Trash bags were piled high on both sides of the doorway leading to the alley. Except for the light coming from the kitchen and a tiny sliver from the main thoroughfare, the street was dark. Huey stood in the entrance, looked at the night and smoked.
He turned his head in surprise when he heard heels clacking on the pavement coming from the street side of the alley. It was Sadie, still in her silky gown and basking in the glow of her performance.
“Didn’t expect you’d come this direction, kid,” Huey said.
“I didn’t want to go through the kitchen with this dress.”
“Bring the money?”
Sadie opened her purse. She pulled out a roll of bills and handed it to Huey. He took the bills and fanned them out.
“It’s all there,” she said.
“Sorry, it’s just business.”
Dusk stuffed the money in his jacket and opened the folder in his hand.
“Wish I was taking your dough under better circumstances. What I have to show you isn’t pretty.”
He handed her the folder. Sadie thumbed through the photos. The longer