Girl Scouts with guns. Maniacal mimes. Murder. Intrigue. Big floppy shoes. It's all in a day's work for Huey Dusk, clown and private dick. In his latest case, Dusk discovers there are plans afoot to rub him out. Can he locate his would-be killers before he ends up a puddle of greasepaint? Part noir, part humor and more fun than a three-ring circus, HUEY DUSK will change how you look at mysteries. Novella.
Huey Dusk knew he was dressed to kill when he taped his ten-gallon pork pie to his green afro—and was sure he was a stick of dynamite with his painted lips and squirting cigar.
He laced up his oversized checkered shoes, slung his polka dotted Dobro over his shoulder and selected a piece of piano wire.
After two snorts from a bag of crushed Lucky Charms, he threw his head back and smiled.
“Man that smarts!” he growled through his teeth.
Then, he walked onto the stage, strummed and sang “Three Blind Mice” to the cheers of hundreds of children.
Huey finished his encore, saw a braced-faced kid, her buxom mom and flung his pick at her cleavage. He walked offstage.
She stood in the doorway of his smoke-filled dressing room and watched him run a comb through his afro. “Whatcha got in those clown pants, big boy?”
“A three-ring circus.” Huey’s eyes sprinted up and down her curvy frame.
The two grabbed and groped each other. Then Huey slipped the piano wire around her neck and watched her eyes bleed out. After she fell to the floor, he rifled through her clothes, taking a gun. A child screamed.
He turned to see a rage-filled girl gnashing her metal teeth and reaching under her Girl Scout sash. He pointed the gun, squeezed the trigger, and gave her two to the chest. The girl’s eyes went muddy as she staggered and dropped to the floor. He blew the smoke off the gun’s barrel.
Huey looked in the mirror, stared briefly at his reflection and noticed for the first time the girl’s adult-sized hips.
“Knew it!” he said, feeling grateful he had the self-preservation instincts of a sewer rat.
He wasted no time going to work on the dwarf. He relieved her of another gun and silencer under her sash. He pulled a thumb drive and manila folder from her green skirt and opened it.
The folder contained large glossy prints of Huey in compromising positions and one diagram of his physique with all of the kill points marked off. In disgust, Huey threw the pictures on the floor. But, he studied the diagram.
“I need to lay off the funnel cakes,” he said to himself.
He stuffed the diagram into his pants and pulled out a PDA. He plugged the thumb drive into one of the ports. In seconds the small screen lit up as gibberish appeared. The PDA started to smoke. Huey let out a yelp and pulled out the thumb drive. The device dropped to the floor and exploded.
He gathered up the pictures and left the room.