I walk through the door. Dark inside. Bartender a huge monster: bald/tattoos/fat muscle. Ugly. The waitress has tits like basketballs stretch marked out and blue veined under tight shirt. Deep cleavage. Like deep. Blonde hair/roots showing/crooked teeth. She wears a short dress. She has a bruise on her calf. She has thin legs.
A few customers sitting drinking. Smoking. 3 TVs flickering: sports, old movie, news. Some kind of music from somewhere. The place stinks of sweat, smoke, beer. And something else. Something deeper.
The monster looks at me. Looks me over, cold.
I reach for the photo I have been carrying 3 days now.
Photo: The Girl/18/blonde/missing for a month. The photo creased. Bent. Fingerprint greasy. The photo her high school graduation.
She looks beautiful. Radiant and Fresh.
The bartender looks at me. Not at the picture. Looks at me with barbwire bloodshot eyes. I show him the picture. I show him my licence. I put a 20 on the bar. He takes the 20. He picks up the picture, glances, shakes his head. Walks to the other end of the bar.
I walk to a table. Sit down. Talk to waitress: LISA etched red on white plastic badge. Order a beer. She tells me nothing while I trace the veins on her breasts with my eyes. Never seen her. Not here. Not never. Asks me questions. I drink and answer them. I leave.
Cold outside and raining. My car parked at the curb. My work car. Old Monte Carlo: rust/paint fading green/big V8.
I get in. Light a smoke. Look through the windshield at the rain. The smear of light and glass. Melting colours translucent.
I drive to a hotel. Park. Get out. The old lady who registers me reeks of booze and grease. Wears a shapeless yellow dress. Creased and stained. Looks at me with hate eyes. I pay. Get the key. Go to the room.
126: worn carpets/bed/TV/stale old smoke smell.
My review of Street Kings
is up; as is a review of the decidedly non-criminal but quite good The Ruins.
I will be posting links as I find them. If you have a particular crime/mystery site you like, please email me and I will list and link the best ones!
I am in the process of reading Jack O'Connell's excellent (so far) Box Nine. Next up is Martyn Waites' Bone Machine and local author Kay Stewart and Chris Bullock's A Deadly Little List. When I get around to it, I may write an essay on the
work of Don Winslow.
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