Pretty Boy Dead excerpt by Jon Michaelsen
In the 2014 Lambda
Literary Award Finalist for Gay Mystery, Pretty Boy Dead author Jon Michaelsen
stirs a murderous brew with ingredients of a murdered male stripper, a missing
go-go dancer. a city councilman on the hook. Can Atlantlike a Homicide Detective
Sgt. Kendall Parker solve the vicious crime while remaining safely hidden
behind the closet door?
Excerpt:
“I’ve
talked to a few of the bartenders,” Perelli shouted, leaning near his partner’s
ear. He stuck a thumb over his shoulder as Parker turned. “None….good…say…”
Unable to
understand, he motioned for them to move up the stairs and out into the main
room. “What were you saying?” he asked, ignoring the ringing echo in his ears.
“No luck
so far. I’ve talked to several employees, but nothing.” Perelli tipped his cup
on end, licking the remnants of alcohol from the corners of his mouth. “I’m
getting another. Want one?”
“Take it
easy on the alcohol, Perelli.”
Perelli
waved him off and shot across the carpeted floor, returning moments later with
a fresh drink. “Cops carry clout in these places,” he said. “No waiting in line
either.” The threat to his masculinity had abated with a few drinks. So, it
seemed, had his cold shoulder to Parker. “Hell, this place ain’t so bad,” he
sneered. “Despite all the fucking fags.”
Parker
ignored his partner’s comment, distracted by the movement of a patron across
the room. The young man was edging toward the emergency exit and kept an eye
peeled in their direction.
“What’s
up, partner?”
“I’m not
sure yet,” said Parker. “You see the guy over there in the red tank?” Perelli
followed Parker’s stare and nodded. “Since we’ve been standing here, he’s
slipped through the crowd, not a word to anyone, but kept watching us. Looks
like he’s headed for that exit.”
“I’d say
he’s about to bolt.” Perelli tossed his cup into a nearby trash bin and leaned
in close to Parker’s ear. “I’ll head out front and swing around,” he said. “He
makes a run for it, I’ll be there.”
Parker
studied the character over his partner’s shoulder. “Keep it cool, Perelli,” he
said. “If the
dude makes a break for it, detain him and that’s all. It’s probably nothing,
but I want to be sure. And watch your back.”
Perelli
disappeared through the squash of bodies. Parker sipped his cocktail, peering
over the rim of the plastic cup as he watched the man’s eyes springboard around
the room. Parker spotted Callahan and two goons moving in fast as the man
rushed to make a break for it. A hand slapped onto Parker’s arm about the time
he started to advance.
“Slade. What
the hell are you doing here?”
The reporter smirked. Parker
turned back in time to see the red shirt had moved closer to the emergency
exit. A cluster of chatty men blocked his view as Slade tugged his arm again.
“You’re
working the park homicide,
aren’t you? Why else would
you be here?” Slade tried to follow Parker’s line of sight across the room. “I know the victim worked here as a dancer,
a mighty popular one, I might add.”
“What’s
your point?” Parker turned away and craned his neck over the crowd in front of
him. He spotted the tousled blond hair of the young man within inches of
freedom. “Some other time,” he said.
All eyes
were on Parker as he shoved and elbowed his way through the crowd, stepping on a few toes along
the way. He heard some choice words and threats in his wake. Patrons dashed out of the way and
protected their drinks.
The guy threw open the emergency door and
set off the alarm. Someone nearby screamed and people scattered in the opposite
direction. Callahan and his men retreated as Parker reached the exit, slammed through the door and leaped into the
alleyway beside the club.
Pitch
black. Retrieving
his gun with his right hand, he clasped the butt of the weapon with his left
and waited wide-eyed for his pupils to adjust.Where was Perelli? Brooks? The
smell of sewage and stale beer hung in the night air. Behind him, the heavy door
shut.
An eerie
silence invaded the area.
Parker
stood in total darkness, his weapon aimed, and safety released. His heart
pumped like a jackhammer as he scanned the area. He ventured forward, placing
one foot carefully before the next in slow, measured steps. The grit on the
asphalt crunched beneath his rubber soles and echoed in his ears.
The exit
door had dumped him into the narrow alleyway accessed by main roads at either
end of the Metroplex. A long, dark vehicle facing the opposite direction hugged
the cinderblock wall of the building, exhaust from its tailpipe drifting
skyward from an idling engine. The tinted windows were slick with raindrops,
and the headlights off. Parker glanced to the left. A pile of empty liquor
boxes seemed to be the only hiding place, because the guy didn’t have enough
time to get to Juniper Street.
Where
the fuck’s Perelli?
Seconds
ticked away in the quiet alley. Parker edged forward to inspect the pile of
rubbish, poking at the refuse with the barrel of his gun. Nothing. Moving
around to the other side, he nudged at several lower boxes with his toe. No
movement. His stomach constricted and his legs stiffened with anticipation.
Perspiration slid down his temples, but he dared not wipe the sweat away. Two
minutes had passed since his burst through the door and still nothing stirred.
Every cop
dreaded such a situation, slow dancing in the shadows alone with a robber, a
thief…a killer. Fear had a way of clutching the heart and soul, controlling all
logic. He knew from experience the anxiety coursing through his veins was
enough to riddle a man’s body stiff and lock his joints, even for tough cops
like him. It had a mind of its own…fear, dominating the human psyche, causing
one to act out of desperation, to strike when provoked. Fear.
Fear of
the unknown or fear of death?
Parker
backed away from the boxes, his eyes glued to the pile of cardboard, his
breathing more rapid and his heartbeat echoing in his ears.Easy, he
coaxed himself. Wait him out. He swung his arms slowly to the
right, following the point just above the barrel of his weapon. Steady…
A cat screamed in the distance, sending chills up
Parker’s spine. He stepped into something cold and wet, the mess oozing into
his shoe as a pungent odor hit his nose. A door in the wall next to the parked vehicle burst
open and out stepped a short figure in a suit, bathed in the interior light when
the car door opened. He
heard a faint step, saw a flash of red before something heavy struck hard against the back of his head.
Pain shot
through his neck and shoulders. He stumbled forward off balance, but managed to fire a single
shot into the brick wall before losing his grip on the gun. A broken bottle,
lead pipe, splintered board—whatever the hell it was—held by a shadowed hand
cracked hard across Parker’s skull. He tumbled to the wet pavement in time to
see confusion flicker
across the face of the suited man ducking into the backseat of the sedan.
The vehicle’s engine revved, and its tires squealed as it raced away.Fuck!
The attacker dropped its weapon and sprinted in
the opposite direction. Parker got to his knees and fumbled around for his
gun. He stood, staggered a second, and took off after the attacker in a running
stumble. The pressure and pain at the base of his head pulsated as he ran. Warm blood flowed from
above his right ear, filling his ear canal and running down his jaw and neck.
The
suspect had darted around the building onto Juniper. Parker neared the
corner wall and halted, putting his back against the brick wall to avoid
another attack. He sucked in a deep breath and threw his entire
weight around the corner with his pistol drawn. In the distance, two figures scuffled
in the middle of the road, their struggle illuminated by a nearby street lamp.
“Freeze!”
Parker chased after the man, spitting blood as he ran.
The suspect glanced up, panicked and clamped his teeth down
hard on Perelli’s arm before stabbing him in the chest with something. Perelli
yelled, released his hold and fell to the asphalt clutching his neck. The
perpetrator sprinted down the block and disappeared at the next side street.
To purchase, click http://www.wildecity.com/ books/gay-mainstream/pretty- boy-dead-a-kendall-parker- mystery/#.VPpCxTd0zIU
Jon Michaelsen
2 comments:
lots of excitement - but I must have read this one, I had a sense of deja vu all over again. Or, sometimes I think I channel them - either way, good job, Jon.
Thanks Victor! I do believe you read this one, lol.
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