Have A Cool Yule

Taking a Break for the Holidays

Have A Cool Yule

Greetings everyone. Thank you for reading my newsletter IN OTHER WORDZ and for following along on my latest mystery, THE STANDARD WEAKLY STANDARD, as well as damn good poetry featured in BAD POETRY MONDAY.

Fortunately, THE STANDARD WEAKLY STANDARD wrapped up in time for the holidays so I can take a few days off to focus on family and friends, long walks with my dog, enjoy a cozy fire, a lighted tree, a glass of wine, movies and football games. However, I plan to use most of this time to finish a thriller novel I have in progress. The goal is to get it to my agent by January or February. Although, I woke this morning thinking of new plot twists and characters to kill off. So, in addition to finishing, looks like I’ve got some serious re-writing to do as well.

I’ll be back here with a new mystery starting in January called NOIR IN MY CAR—kind of a “send up” of detective noir featuring Marco X. Pollo, private eye, who drives the mean streets of Denver in his souped-up Nash Rambler, seeking justice and clients who pay in cash.

Seems crime and/or evil always find Polo. All he wants is to find the man who killed his father, a Denver cop, who worked part time security for a downtown bank on the day the bank suffered its largest robbery in history. You’ll also meet his eccentric sister, Lady Delphina, a fortune teller, whose clientele includes the “who’s who” of Denver. Oh, the secrets she harbors.

Here's a short sample of what’s to come…

THE CAPITOL CAPER

Chapter 1

THE REDHEAD

Damn if it doesn’t always start with a dame.

While waiting for the light to turn red, this redhead, from out of nowhere-land, hops into my Nash Rambler. I said, “I’m not your Uber, doll.” But then I caught myself as she batted her long eyelashes and offered a come-hither grin. I was mesmerized. She crossed long, tanned legs that ran all the way up to there. With each glance at her glorious gams, I lost track of time. The sun sank, the moon rose. The Jag behind me honked.

“The light’s green, honey,” she said. “Go, Marco.”

“Hey,” I said, “How’d you know my —”

The Jag honked again.

“—name?”

The October sun beamed a mad orange flair through the windshield. As the temperature rose inside my car I couldn’t tell if the solar heat brought sweat to my brow, or if my perspiration was precipitated by how the redhead dangled her red killer heels from her toes. She had grabbed my attention in more ways than one. The honking Jag shook me back to my senses. “Seatbelt,” I reminded her.

The redhead smiled seductively and quivered in all the right places as she clicked in. She smelled sweet like something floral and fresh out of O’Dwyer’s Rock and Garden Center. The Jag honked furiously and sped past me as if the driver were late for a dental appointment.

I floored the gas. The car coughed, sputtered, and belched. Damn! Just yesterday I had picked up “Pearlie,” my 1955 Nash Rambler, from the shop. She’s a two-door custom country club model, pearly-white with a pink top, white sidewalls, and a continental tire on the rear. She’s a babe magnet and usually rugged as a mountain goat. But today she ran skittishly, like a horse afraid of jumping a ditch.

We were heading north—the redhead and me—on Lincoln toward the State Capital and downtown. I didn’t know where she wanted to go. I assumed it wasn’t the library. But, frankly, I was in no hurry for my passenger to jump out. Rolling along, I decided I better find out who I was dealing with here. It’s not that often—well, rare to be exact—that a sexy redhead jumps into my car at a stoplight. I found my little-used baritone voice and said, “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

“Jade. Jasmine,” she purred. The words rolled off her red lips like hot butter but sounding exotic like “Bond. James Bond,” only far more charming in a stunning sense of the word. While charming, her names left me confused. Which name was the surname and which the forename? Should I call her “Jade” or “Jasmine?” The more I thought about it the more I decided it didn’t really matter. I could go with either.

I braked at another intersection and waited for the light to turn. Something about her, well, actually everything about her, made me lose control of time, space, and common sense. I craved a cigarette and I don’t smoke. My left leg bounced on its own accord while my eyes darted back and forth from the red stop light in front of me to her two ample…red lips.

“Watch out!” she yelled.

###

NOIR IN MY CAR begins in January. Buckle up to ride the mean streets of Denver with Marco X. Polo, private eye.

Until then, I hope all your days will be Merry and Bright. Wishing you and yours A Cool Yule and all the best for this holiday season!