The Complete Richard Dick Mysteries by Wade J. McMahan



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From werewolves to witches, vampires to Santa Claus, private investigator Richard Dick has seen it all. From the warped mind of author Wade J. McMahan comes the most hilarious, pun-riddled tales of mystery and deceit ever to grace the virtual pages of an ebook. For the first time, all of the original Richard Dick mysteries are gathered together in one volume. These include:

"Bite This!"

"Fanged"

"Naughty or Nice?"

"The Lincoln Park Horror"

"Witches Witch?

EXCERPT:

From Bite This!:

It was a hot, brutally hot, July afternoon. Through my third floor office window, the monotonous Chicago skyline was silhouetted against a yellow haze. From the corner of my eye, I spotted a furtive movement. I moved cautiously, avoiding any sudden motion as my hand crept towards the weapon on the edge of my desk. Finally, I grasped the wire-handled flyswatter as my eyes concentrated upon my intended victim. My hand swept forward, upward and then downward in a barely discernable blur and the deed was done. Five. Five kills. It had been a spectacularly productive afternoon.

A commotion in the hallway outside of my office caused me to look up towards my glass door. “Richard Dick, Private Investigations” was printed on the glass. I was reading it backwards from inside the room. I couldn’t make out what it read.

The doorknob rattled, the door swung open, and SHE stood there, framed in the doorway. A delectable fringe benefit associated with the careers of all private dicks is when beautiful, exotic women unexpectedly walk through the door. This was not to be one of those cases. In fact, “framed” doesn’t accurately illustrate HER presence in my doorway. “Wedged” would be more precise.

Her perfume preceded her entrance into my office, a distinctive fragrance, best described as “Eau de Manure Spreader.” She oozed into the room, like “The Blob” on its mission to absorb another victim.

Her voice was like the sultry screech of a burned-out bearing, as she began, “Mr. Dick, I hate to simply barge into your office without knocking.…”

“That’s quite all right. Take a seat, and please, call me Dick.”

“Thank you Mr….um, thank you Dick,” she gushed as her underside sucked a wooden chair from view. “I am Miss Petunia Flatterbottom of Wareville, Missouri. You may recall that I sent you an email last week.”

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid that I don’t recall, Miss Flickerflacker.”

“It’s Flatterbottom, Dick. I wrote to you about the werewolf that is stalking my home. I’m all alone, don’t you see, and have no one else to turn to. Please Mr. Dick…I mean Dick, please, you must help me. It’s the werewolf, don’t you see?”

“Oh yes, I remember your message now, but no, I don’t see. There’re no such things as werewolves.”

“Of course there are, and they stalk by night, just as the old legends say. Werewolves tear your house down, and then eat you. They especially prey upon young maidens, such as myself,” she added demurely.

“I’m sure you are only having nightmares, Miss Flatterflicker. There are no such things as werewolves,” I repeated stubbornly.

“It’s Flatterbottom, Dick, and yes there are such things as werewolves. What if I were to tell you that the name of our town was originally spelled with another ‘E’?”

I was dumbfounded. “You mean the town’s original name was Warevillee?”

“No, Dick. The name Ware was originally spelled ‘W-E-R-E;’ the same spelling as in werewolf.”

“It’s unlikely.”

“Oh, but it’s true. When the area was first settled two hundred years ago, it was well known for the presence of werewolves, and hence the name of the town. About twenty years ago our civic leaders became concerned that the name frightened away tourists, so they changed the spelling.”

“Hmm. Have you spoken with the local authorities about this alleged werewolf?”

“Of course…but it’s not alleged, I’ve seen and heard it. I started with the local police, but the city’s leaders told them to ignore me. They don’t want the “Were” thing to start up again. I then went to the state police and even the FBI. They think that I’m some kind of a nut. I just know the werewolf is going to tear my house down, but nobody will help me, Dick. That’s why I contacted you.”

“So, you want me to come to Wareville to protect you from the werewolf, is that it?”

“Yes, protect me by killing it, or getting rid of it. I don’t care what you do, just so long as I feel safe in my home again.”

“Okay Violet, I’ll come to Wareville, but you need to know that private dicks don’t come cheap anymore.”

“It’s Petunia, Dick, but I understand. What are your fees?”

“A grand a day plus travel and expenses.”

“A grand what, Dick?”

“A thousand dollars a day, plus travel and expenses. I’ll want two grand up front.”

“Two grand what, Dick?”

“Two thousand bucks.”

“Oh, I see. Very well, just so long as the werewolf won’t bother me anymore.”

She pulled her checkbook from her purse, and as she was writing, I went on to explain that my fee was double time for weekends. Later, I scheduled my arrival in Wareville for the following Friday night.

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