The following is an excerpt from my current
work-in-progress.
MURDER AT THE GALLIANO CLUB is the next book in the Galliano Club series, coming soon.
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No other traffic came by as the cop circled the truck. Dusk spread shadows over the fallow fields stretching away from the road in both directions. It was a real quiet spot. Benny blew on his fingers to warm them.
“Yeah, okay, looks
good,” the cop finally said. “Sorry to have stopped you.”
“No hard feelings, officer.” Benny tugged on the brim of his fedora. “Just doing your job. You have a nice evening.”
The cop opened the door of his car with the yellow Lido Police Department shield painted on the side, then closed it again. Gave Benny a hard look then walked all around the truck a second time. This time the blue uniform stooped to look underneath.
“Ice melts,” the cop said. “A truck full of ice drips all the time. How come yours isn’t dripping?”
“Too cold out,” Benny said but the answer didn’t come fast enough.
“Open up the truck,” the cop ordered. “Let’s see this ice.”
Benny stayed where he was by the cab door. “Look, officer. If I’m late with the ice, Chief Doyle’s gonna be mighty mad. I’ll have to tell him who made me late.”
“Or maybe there’s something else in there besides ice.”
A nice crisp ten-dollar bill fluttered out of Benny’s pocket. “Bet you’ve got a missus who’d like a nice
night on the town. Buster Keaton and dinner on the square.”
The cop didn’t take it. “You aren’t trying to bribe an officer of the law, are you?”
“What’s a sawbuck between friends?”
“Open the back,” the cop said grimly.
Benny slipped the bill under one
of the truck’s windshield wipers, like he once saw Hymie Weiss do in Chicago when a union official wouldn’t take the payoff direct, and winked at the cop. All he got back was a big blank nothing.
Twilight blurred the edges of the dark blue uniform. The brass buttons stood out like beacons. Benny backed away
and went to the rear of the truck.
“Here we go.” Benny jingled his keys. Let them slide out of his fingers, then bent and pretended to look for them under the license plate. “Dammit. Dropped the keys. Do you see them?”
When the cop came to help, Benny plugged him twice in the heart with the Colt Pocket Hammerless.
The cop windmilled backwards as the recoil shook the air. Benny thought the fella was going to hop a jig all the way to
Hamilton Street but he only got as far as the police car before falling against the yellow shield, one hand groping for the door handle. Gurgled and hissed and thrashed until Benny shot him again.
Those brass buttons made a dandy target.
Get the prequel now!
