Shorts: "Dicky and the Hat" by Mike Baker

Dicky and the Hat by Mike Baker   *     *     *     *   RICHARD’S FATHER SILENTLY MOUTHED the words “Please kill me” into the unstable air between them. Richard blinked, mentally stumbling his way back into the diner’s chaos and thrum. Richard had trust issues—especially with his own imagination. He sat across from his dad Arturo watching the old man meticulously cut up his fried eggs and then eat them, one piece at a time. He met his dad at the State Street Diner every morning for breakfast even though Richard never ate breakfast and the idea of his dad, knee deep in the beginning stages of senility, navigating there from eight city blocks away—gave Richard the yips. His dad insisted. Richard was a soldier for Ducky Fiumara, a capo in the Genovese Family, and did a number of things for walking around money but his main job was killing people which you’d never say out loud. You definitely wouldn’t say “wack” either, unless you were an asshole who spent his time pimping or doing hold ups. Mostly, he and Ducky didn’t say anything, there wasn’t even a nod. Sometimes it felt like telepathy. Richard had coffee with Ducky and the way Ducky sugared his espresso let Richard know who needed to go. Richard took care of it and that, as they say, was that. Richard’s dad had never had to do that kind of work. He’d been an accountant for Ducky’s father and then for Ducky after Ducky’s dad retired. The senility didn’t start until after Richard’s dad retired. Thank god. They didn’t talk about the senility either because as rotten a dad as Richard’s dad had been, he was still his dad and he couldn’t bear to think of the man as less than he’s been, let alone say the words to his dad or make dad acknowledge it. “You don’t eat enough Dicky and your eyes look tired. You’re wacking off too much at night. You never could stop doing that when you were a boy. Filthy goddamn habit.” Richard clenched up. He knew, or he believed, his dad couldn’t help it but Richard was a made guy unlike his dad and even his dad busting his balls was almost too much. “How’s the garden these days Pop?” His dad took a bite of eggs. They dribbled a little down his mouth. “What did you say?” “The garden, how is it?” “Have you called you sister?” “What Pop?” “Your sister, are you deaf, have you called her?” “No Pop.” He hadn’t talked to his sister in two years. Not since she moved to Connecticut, and she’d moved to Connecticut to get away from Richard, who she hated. She hated the old man but like Richard, she couldn’t admit it. Not really. “Pop, we’re having Christmas dinner at Aunt Johnny’s this year, you gonna come?” Aunt Johnny was his mom’s sister and she hated Arturo and his dad hated her but Richard had to ask. “No, I’m going to the VFW, they got a thing for veterans. Bring a cake for me from the bakery by the house.” He meant Richard’s childhood home, his dad lived in a home for poor old people and that place, the bakery, had been gone for 20 years. His dad spit a piece of eggshell on his plate. “fuck’n greaser in the kitchen did that on purpose because we’re Italian.” Richard cringed. This had been a neighborhood diner when he was a kid but the neighborhood had changed as family’s moved in with the steep increase in rents and upscale real estate. Guys like Richard learned to navigate. His dad’s generation, not so much. Richard needed to leave. Ducky wanted to see him in there early. Ducky didn’t have many rules but one of the few was not ever being late for a meeting with Ducky, not ever. You could feel safer fucking up a piece of work than being late. Shit happened on jobs but being late for a meeting was disrespect and that did not fly with Ducky. He watched his dad dip toast in his eggs and crunching down on the greasy yellow toast, bits and crumbs blew out of his mouth. The way his dad ate breakfast disgusted Richard. His dad disgusted Richard. Doing the kind of work he did, self-control was how you stayed out of jail. It was how you stayed alive. You took your time; you were under control. His dad had never been 100% under control. His dad worked long hours, tracking someone else’s money and he couldn’t make mistakes because these people only had one answer for mistakes but afterward, when he came home, he got sloppy. His dad had had an assistant once. The assistant was young with three kids at home. One day Ducky called Richard’s dad into the Office and asked him point blank about a ledger. It was one of the assistant’s ledgers and Richard’s dad said he’d rather not say. Ducky said someone was in trouble, the assistant or Richard’s dad. That meant exactly one thing. His dad said the assistant had either been sloppy or he was stealing. And considering the size of the assistant’s family, Richard’s dad said it was probably stealing and maybe it was the assistant. You make choices in this life but it’s really only one choice. You chose to live or you chose to die. Whoever did it, and only the old man knew, the old man chose his own ass. Fuck the assistant. All Ducky said was thanks and Richard’s dad went back to work, sitting right next to his assistant. The assistant’s entire family got murdered that night. The police, people around the neighborhood, all said it was Puerto Ricans robbing them because they were all cut up but who knows? Richard knew, even then, who did it. Everybody knew who did it. Richard’s dad came home drunk and before Richard could even get a word out, his dad laid into him with his belt and its buckle, and then went to work on his mom and sister. You’d think Richard would have gotten him back when he grew up, when he started working for Ducky but even now, if his dad pulled a punch as a joke, Richard flinched a little. Watching the old man eat, he made up his mind. The old man needed to die. He wasn’t sure when but this had to stop. He couldn’t do it though, kill his own dad. He probably would hire some Puerto Ricans and then kill them afterwards. “I got to go Pop. I got to go see our boy.” That meant Ducky. His dad always called Ducky “Boy” since he had worked for Ducky’s dad and what grown man would allow himself to be called Ducky? “Whatever Dicky. See you tomorrow.” Richard got up, paid for him and his dad, looking back at his dad sitting crumpled and old. Richard decided to let it all go, let the old man die natural, and headed out the front door, the door’s tiny bell jingling as it opened and closed. Richard’s dad watched Richard leave and then nodded at a man sitting a few booths down. The man got up, left a couple a bucks on the table, and headed out the door after Richard, the tiny bell jingling, a newspaper covering the throwaway gun palmed underneath it. Fin

Mike Baker lives in North Florida with three feral cats, a couple of asshole racoons, a possum named the Colonel and a chihuahua named Chloe. He is, most days, catholic whether he wants to be or not.

© 2024 by Mike Baker / all rights reserved

 

Booked (and Printed): November 2024

 

Booked (and Printed) November 2024     November brought the first dusting of snow—and it was only a dusting but just enough fell to ice the roads for Thanksgiving travel, which made me happy we had nowhere to go. It brought friends to our home, a fire to our fireplace, and darkness at quarter past four. It also made for a month perfectly fitted for reading and I took advantage, at least as best I could, by reading six books—two story collections and four novels—and three short stories; every one of the shorts by the late mystery writer, Jeremiah Healy. That trio of Healy tales starred Boston private eye, John Francis Cuddy, and while they are easily categorized as hardboiled, each stands tall as a puzzling whodunit, too. Another commonality of the stories: each was nominated, but failed to win, the Private Eye Writers of America Shamus Award for best short story. “The Bagged Man”—published in the Feb. 1993 issue of Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine—is a gem of a murder mystery. Cuddy is hired to help a private investment firm escape the bad publicity it has received since a homeless man, wearing a bag over his head and protesting that same firm, is found murdered. The set-up is believable and, of course, Cuddy solves the murder with his usual competent flair. “Rest Stop”—which was published in the May 1992 issue of Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine—is a cool take on a real-time kidnapping. While talking to an attendant at a highway rest stop, Cuddy sees a kidnapping. In a rush, he follows the kidnappers and finds himself in deep trouble. It has more action than the average Cuddy tale and it works very well. “Turning the Witness”—published in Guilty as Charged, edited by Scott Turow (1997)—is my favorite of this month’s three stories for the simple reason that when the solution was revealed I kicked myself for not solving it earlier. Read my detailed review of “Turning the Witness” here. I read these three stories in the following two Jeremiah Healy collections (and both are well worth reading) published by Crippen & Landru: The Concise Cuddy (1998) and Cuddy – Plus One (2003).

As for the books… two are story collections—one a single author effort by William Campbell Gault and the other a multi-author anthology of criminous Christmas tales—with the remaining four novels squarely within the mystery genre. William Campbell Gault is best known for his mystery and crime novels, but in the 1950s he wrote several speculative tales for, mostly, digest magazines. Mixology 2: More Science Fiction Stories (2024), gathers three—a short and two novelettes—of Gault’s best sciencey stories published in Fantastic Universe. Each tale is exciting and thought-provoking with worlds and characters both familiar and new. Click here to read a detailed essay I wrote about William Campbell Gault and Mixology 2. The other story collection is Christmas Crimes at the Mysterious Bookshop, edited by Otto Penzler (2024). Its twelve tales are, as the title suggests, set during the Christmas holiday and have at least some action at New York City’s famed Mysterious Bookshop. An outstanding anthology with an impressive list of contributors that will ring true for anyone that enjoys the crossroad where mystery and Christmas meet. Check out my detailed review of Christmas Crimes at the Mysterious Bookshop here. Back in April, I told you about Sasscer Hill’s first Fia McKee mystery, Flamingo Road (2017). A book I really liked—you can read my detailed review here. Fia has appeared only twice and (fortunately) my local library has both titles. So naturally I got around to reading that second book, The Dark Side of Town (2018). Fia, working undercover for the Thoroughbred Racing Protective Bureau at New York’s Saratoga Race Track, is investigating a trainer suspected of horse doping. The evidence against the trainer is sparse, but the outcomes of his horses is suspect. One thing leads Fia to another and soon she is hip-deep in a scheme of blackmail, murder, and kidnapping. The Dark Side of Town is an enjoyable foray into the horse-racing world with more in common with Sue Grafton than Dick Francis. My only wish? I wish there was another Fia McKee. Bill Crider’s We’ll Always Have Murder (2003) is a hardboiled blast starring silver screen tough guy, Humphrey Bogart. The plotting is slick, the action is sharp, and Crider paints Bogart with a likable hue. It is set in the Hollywood of the late-1940s and it could easily have been written in that same era. You can read my detailed review of We’ll Always Have Murder here. Another book I wrote a detailed review for, is Alan Orloff’s second Mess Hopkins novel, Late Checkout (2024)—which means I won’t spend much time bending your eye about it here. Other than to say it is light-hearted and mysterious fun. Mess is pretty cool, too, with a self-deprecating wit and enough sense to know he doesn’t know much. Read my full review of Late Checkout here. Now, for my favorite book of the month—and it was a close race. David Housewright’s twelfth Rushmore McKenzie novel, Unidentified Woman #15 (2015). While driving on a snowy night in Minneapolis, McKenzie witnesses a woman thrown from a moving pick-up truck. McKenzie does what McKenzie does and rescues the woman from the icy highway asphalt. She wakes up to no memory of who she and since her pockets were empty of any identifiers, she is simply known as Fifteen. After Fifteen’s release from hospital, McKenzie and his girlfriend, Nina Truhler, happily allow her to stay in their swanky Minneapolis condo. But there is concern for Fifteen’s safety since whoever tried to kill her is still out there. Things go sideways—how else will they ever go in a McKenzie novel?—and McKenzie finds himself in a race to figure out Fifteen’s identity and exactly who is trying to kill her. Unidentified Woman #15 is in my top three or four of the McKenzie mysteries. It has all the usual hallmarks of the series: a strong setting, colorful characters, concise plotting, and of course the likable McKenzie. It is also surprising, suspenseful, and personal for McKenzie for a few reasons. An absolute winner from the first to the last page. Fin— Now on to next month…

"Lewis B. Patten's A Man Alone Plot" by Mike Baker

 

Lewis B. Patten’s A Man Alone Plot: The Law in Cottonwood & Red Runs the River by Mike Baker     Every time I read a Lewis Patten book, I start thinking about Frank Gruber’s list of seven Western plots*. My intuition tells me that Patten’s work defies such categorization and, while Gruber’s list may be correct, Patten's writing transcends it.  Here’s what I mean: there were some liberal reinterpretations of Agatha Christie books made into movies that Christie canonists hated because they monkeyed with the plots but, as I heard someone say in their defense, Dame Agatha wrote whodunits. These new interpretations were whydunits. Patten books often feel like they don’t fit Gruber’s list, but they do. Lewis Patten, at his best, wasn’t just writing about adventure. He was deep into the psychology of both the protagonist and the antagonist. And he usually did it inside 150 pages. Marshal Morgan Gaunt has a problem. The first cattle drive is due into Cottonwood, and the town council passed a “no gun” resolution that Gaunt will have to enforce on his own, as he’s The Law in Cottonwood. Cottonwood is, six months of the year, a wide-open town, which means whores, gambling, and non-stop liquor for all the drovers rolling cattle into the stockyard depot. Gaunt is a longtime lawman, and he knows the first few groups of waddies will fight the no-gun ordinance tooth and nail. And that worries him almost as much as Buck Robineau coming back worries him. Robineau is a trail boss that Gaunt shot and crippled during last year’s herd season, and Robineau swore to kill Gaunt when he came back. None of the saloon men like the no-gun ordinance, as it threatens business, but moreover, they don’t like Gaunt, who busts up crooked gamblers who rob the waddies of their wages by cheating them, and the hardcases that rob and kill them when they’re passed out drunk. They all want him dead. The Law in Cottonwood covers three days of the season, and if you’ve read a few of these, you can imagine how it goes. Gaunt, a man alone, fights to keep Cottonwood under control as the forces against him mount to brutally impossible odds. Lewis Patten wrote many of these in his long career, and this was a later one, written in 1978, near his career’s end. It’s as good as any of the earlier stories and perhaps is tempered by the understanding a long life gives a man. The story isn’t less tense, and the beatings Gaunt takes aren’t softened. What Patten does, though, more with a softer palette, if that makes sense, is keep us in Gaunt’s head, where the terrain is darker and uglier. There are less big explosions and more internal bombs going off as Gaunt, a lawman near the end of his career, pushes through his mounting physical and mental wounds to appear unmoved by the unfolding events as he faces down a growing wave of vicious gunmen hot for his blood.

The “man alone” plot is my favorite storyline, and Patten is its master. I thought his book Death of a Gunfighter (1968) was my favorite until I read Red Runs the River (1970). Captain John Sessions, formerly of the Army of Northern Virginia, comes home to find his family seemingly butchered by Cheyenne until he realizes his stash of greenbacks and gold is missing, which had to mean white men covering up the robbery with an Indian-like slaughter. Sessions tracks the men to a near fort, where he promptly loses them in a mass influx of riders come to sign on and fight the currently rampaging Cheyenne. Sessions signs on himself, thinking the killers did as well. They all head out, tracking the Cheyenne to a river with a long narrow island, where the Cheyenne attack. Patten only sketches the island’s dimensions as, throughout the book, he selectively stretches its features to meet the story’s needs. The men first dig rifle pits and then connect the pits with trenches, which helps them better organize their defense against the Cheyenne but also facilitates the hunt and then internal war between Sessions and the three unknown killers. The book is mostly claustrophobic internal monologue, increasingly weary and paranoid, as Sessions tries to figure out who among his fellow Indian fighters are the killers, with the killers hunting him during the confusion of the various skirmishes and then at night, stretching slightly the believable but shoring that reality by weighing almost every conflict against Sessions. It’s a Patten formula, the lone hero getting attacked on all sides, his injuries mounting as his will to survive is tested, and his rage and need for righteous vengeance mounts to a fever pitch. I’ve not read every book he wrote, but it seems to be the theme central to all of the books I’ve read. Lewis Patten’s “man alone” plots, where the protagonist faces impossible odds and must rely solely on their own wits and resilience to survive, serve as a powerful metaphor for the human condition. In Patten’s stories, the protagonists are often faced with brutal and unrelenting violence, forcing them to confront the darkest aspects of human nature. Through Gaunt’s and Sessions’ struggles, Patten reveals the profound isolation and loneliness that can accompany the human experience, that man remains fundamentally alone in the universe, forced to confront the abyss of uncertainty and mortality. By exploring this theme through the lens of the Western genre, Patten creates a sense of timelessness and universality, reminding readers that, despite the trappings of modernity, we remain vulnerable to the same existential fears and uncertainties that have haunted humanity throughout history.

* Frank Gruber’s List of Western Plots 1. Union Pacific story. The plot concerns construction of a railroad, a telegraph line, or some other type of modern technology or transportation. Wagon train stories fall into this category. 2. Ranch story. The plot concerns threats to the ranch from rustlers or large landowners attempting to force out the proper owners. 3. Empire story. The plot involves building a ranch empire or an oil empire from scratch, a classic rags-to-riches plot. 4. Revenge story. The plot often involves an elaborate chase and pursuit by a wronged individual, but it may also include elements of the classic mystery story. 5. Cavalry and Indian story. The plot revolves around “taming” the wilderness for white settlers. 6. Outlaw story. The outlaw gangs dominate the action. 7. Marshal story. The lawman and his challenges drive the plot.

Review: "Turning the Witness" by Jeremiah Healy

 

“Turning the Witness” by Jeremiah Healy from Cuddy-Plus One Crippen & Landru, 2003   “Turning the Witness”—which was originally published in Guilty as Charged, edited by Scott Turow, in 1993—is an excellent John Francis Cuddy tale with some admirable sleight of hand and a beautiful climactic twist. Rick Blassingale, an unlikable investment advisor, is accused of killing his estranged wife. The prosecution seemingly has a slam-dunk case since Blassingale has a financial motive for the murder and a witness saw him leaving the crime scene. In desperation, Blassingale’s lawyer hires Cuddy to find enough dirt on the witness to poke holes in her testimony. Cuddy isn’t much interested in helping Blassingale side-step the murder wrap—he’s a pompous ass and jailtime would do him some good—but Cuddy’s professional integrity requires that his investigation be rigorous and thorough. So he does what Cuddy does—interviews the witness, ponders the elements of the crime—and in short order finds the solution. “Turning the Witness” is a solvable puzzle with solid clue placement and a convincing narrative. Cuddy is, as usual, thoughtful, inquisitive, tough and, perhaps most importantly, likable and honest. Littered in the narrative are shimmering descriptions of Boston, Cuddy’s hometown, and even one backhanded comment about New York City. Which adds up to a very good time spent reading. “Turning the Witness” was shortlisted in the best short story category for the Shamus Award in 1994; losing to Lawrence Block’s Matthew Scudder tale, “The Merciful Angel of Death.”

Check out the Kindle edition of  Cuddy-Plus One here at Amazon.

Review: "Late Checkout" by Alan Orloff

Late Checkout by Alan Orloff Level Best Books, 2024     Late Checkout, the second Mess Hopkins mystery by Alan Orloff, is a laidback thriller with a solid mystery and just enough action to keep the pages turning. Mess operates his retired parents’ roadside motel, the Fairfax Manor Inn, on Route 50 in Fairfax, Viginia. The Inn is outdated and unprofitable—Mess will give anyone in need a room for a night, a week, or more without charging them a cent. Which is exactly what Mess does when his cousin, Finn, shows up on his doorstep.       Six years earlier, Finn had disappeared after arguing with his parents—Mess’s uncle and aunt—about being gay. It had been so long since anyone had heard from Finn, the family believed he was dead. So Mess gives his cousin a room and tries not crowd him with questions about where he was (and what he was doing) during all those lost years. But when Finn finally starts talking, he tells an unbelievable story about two men trying to kill him. Mess, skeptical but trying to be supportive, goes along with Finn’s crazy tale. But he soon realizes that, while Finn is being less than candid with him, there is some truth to what his cousin is saying. Mess enlists the help of his girlfriend, the newspaper reporter Lia Katsaros—who is waist-deep in the biggest story of her life about the murder of a local land developer—and his best friend Vell.       Late Checkout is a comfortable, thoughtful, and well-crafted thriller, with a dash of whodunit. The primary characters, Mess, Lia, and Vell, are likeable and believable. A handful of side characters are charmingly odd, including Mess’s Uncle Phil and the Inn’s manager, Fareed. The story is complicated—there is murder, politics, an assortment of family tensions and weirdness, and more than one false lead. The narrative builds slowly, with Finn annoyingly holding back and sometimes lying outright about what he knows, but it is never dull or uninteresting. And the solution is surprising, with enough clues in the narrative to make this reader wonder why he didn’t figure it sooner.

Click here for the Kindle edition and here for the paperback of Late Checkout at Amazon.

Review: "We'll Always Have Murder" by Bill Crider

 

We’ll Always Have Murder A Humphrey Bogart Mystery by Bill Crider iBooks, 2003   We’ll Always Have Murder by Bill Crider is a snappy hardboiled detective novel about old Hollywood. Terry Scott is a low-rent private eye working as a fixer for Jack Warner, of Warner Brothers. Scott is called into Warner’s office to help the studio’s biggest star, Humphrey Bogart, dodge a blackmail scheme. A sleazy P.I., Frank Burleson, is threatening to go to the press with damaging information about Bogart’s ex-wife, Mayo Methot—Bogart calls her “Sluggy”—unless he pays up. But Bogie has no plans of paying Burleson a dime. So Bogart wants Scott to be there when he tells Burleson to take a hike. While Scott prefers working alone, he agrees to go along with the plan; but things unravel quickly when a simple blackmail scam turns into murder. And Bogart is the prime suspect. Scott, with Bogart on his wing, follows the clues from Hollywood’s glitzy eateries and studios to its underground clubs where they uncover secrets that some would kill to discover and others would kill to conceal. We’ll Always Have Murder is a breezy and entertaining walk down Hollywood’s golden age. Crider captures the Studio era in vivid splashes; from restaurants like The Brown Derby to Romanoff’s and Chasen’s to the studios, and even some inside dope on filmmaking and Bogart himself. According to Crider, Bogie made terrible coffee and he clears up, Bogie that is, who killed Sternwood’s chauffeur in The Big Sleep. As Bogart tells Scott, “I don’t know [who killed the chauffeur]…and neither did Chandler when we asked him about it.” Crider paints Bogart perfectly, too. He is likable, tough, but not so tough as his screen presence, and the kind of guy anyone would want to hang out with. As I always expect from Bill Crider, there is also a touch of humor woven into the tale. Like this snippet of dialogue from Bogart telling Scott why he, Scott, doesn’t look like a detective: “You’re young, you’re bald, you’re ugly, you’re short, and you’re a little chubby.” The mystery is solid and the prose is strong and spare, which all adds up to—We’ll Always Have Murder is the sort of novel that passes too quickly and leaves the reader a little melancholy when the last page is done.

According to Bill Crider’s blog, he wrote We’ll Always Have Murder as “work for hire” and any chances of a sequel died when Byron Preiss—the publisher of iBooks—was killed in a car accident in 2005. Click here for the Kindle edition of We’ll Always Have Murder at Amazon.

Retro Interview: Stephen Mertz

Stephen Mertz died on Nov. 5, 2024. He was a friend of mine, and one that is missed very much. This interview was conducted in the Spring of 2016. I wish we had done another one since then, but this one is pretty good. Rest in peace, Steve.

Stephen Mertz has written under various pseudonyms, including Don Pendleton, The Executioner, Jack Buchanan, M.I.A. Hunter, Jim Case, Cody’s Army, Stephen Brett, Jon Sharpe, The Trailsman, and Cliff Banks, Tunnel Rats. His early work, as the pseudonyms suggest, was in the high flying men’s adventure genre of the 1980s, but his work has steadily moved from the formulaic action novels to an impressive, and varied, body of work stretching from historical to adventure to paranormal horror.

Mr. Mertz’s first published novel, Some Die Hard, was published as by Stephen Brett by the long ago Manor Books in 1979, and his most recent is an installment in his pulp western series Blaze! published earlier this year. In between, he created and wrote a few successful men’s adventure series: M.I.A. Hunter and Cody’s Army come to mind. He wrote twelve Mack Bolan books, including the pivotal, and still popular, Day of Mourning, and over the last 15 years he has hit his stride as a novelist writing about a fictional meeting between Hank Williams and Muddy Waters, Hank & Muddy, and an international thriller set in the 2008 Beijing Summer Olympics, Dragon Games.    

Mr. Mertz was kind enough to answer a few questions, and patient enough to keep answering when a few grew into more than twenty. The questions are in italics. The personal photographs are used courtesy of Stephen Mertz.

Your first professional sale was a short story, “The Busy Corpse,” to The Executioner Mystery Magazine.  Would you tell us a little about that experience?

Well, I guess every writer remembers the glorious day he sold his first story or she sold her novel and it’s a red letter day for sure. I was living in Denver at the time. I was running a second-hand record store. I was playing in a blues band, and I’d been writing unpublished (make that unpublishable) stories for years. In 1975, the magazine you mentioned bought that story. The funny thing about it is that I went on to become fairly well associated with the name of Mack Bolan, The Executioner, because about seven years later I ended up writing books for the Mack Bolan series. Actually, it was a coincidence that The Executioner Mystery Magazine bought that story. The editorial staff was out in LA and had nothing to do with Don [Pendleton] other than to use his name on the cover and he had nothing to do with them. The Table of Contents are interesting because it’s a mix of people that I never heard of again and then there are a few old hands like Talmage Powell who are placing some of their final work and there are a handful of new names like me and John Lutz and Margaret Maron who are just breaking in.

Your early career was spent writing men’s adventure fiction; The Executioner, and your own M.I.A. Hunter and Cody’s Army.  Were there any particular pleasures or displeasures of writing these types of books?

And let’s not forget The Tunnel Rats! The greatest pleasure was being able to practice the writing craft in anonymity while making money doing it. Because of course my name wasn’t on the Mack Bolan books; that was Don’s series. The other action/adventure books that I wrote were originally written under pen names. There are a variety of reasons that writers use pen names. You don’t want to be labeled in the popular or the editorial mind as a writer who only writes a certain type of novel, especially when you are as restless creatively as I am. It keeps you from being typecast. In a field like that, frankly, you are judged by the company you keep. There was Don Pendleton and one or two others but when I first broke into that field, even the established writers weren’t getting much respect. Not like today. So I thought it best to stay anonymous for that period of time. At the same time you’re delivering four to six books per year so you are honing your skills as a writer. It was a wonderful way to learn how to write. For instance, I wrote each of my first six action novels as a conscious nod to some writer who I felt influenced me and in that way I got it out of my system, to purge my writing of the sound of any other writer’s voice. I guess you could say that I arrived at my writing style through a process of exclusion. What was the displeasure? Having to meet deadlines.  Having to constantly work variations on the same formula. That generally applies to any sort of genre fiction. But all-in-all it was a good way to get started in the business.

Speaking of Don Pendleton, I know you are a great admirer of both him, as a person, and his work.  You have said his work was a direct descendent of what Mickey Spillane did with his hardboiled Mike Hammer novels and the pulp writer Carroll John Daly.  Would you expand on this idea?

I would refer anyone who’s interested in this subject to a book that came out back in the 1970’s called The Great American Detective, edited by William Kittredge and Steven M. Krauzer. It’s a collection of stories that trace the development of the fictional American Detective from the days of the dime novels and Carroll John Daly and it ends with the only Bolan short story that Don ever wrote. My point: the editors certainly saw Don in that tradition. The Introduction those guys wrote for that book presents the case more effectively than I could in an interview.

Are there any of Don Pendleton’s books you particularly admire?

Don’s major contribution is in creating the action adventure genre. Probably the most important lesson that I learned from Don was to consider yourself a serious novelist even if you are slanting your work for a genre market. I have tried to adhere to that and Don very much adhered to that in the sense that his Mack Bolan saga is character-driven, as in “serious” fiction. It’s character driven in the sense that Bolan is not the same person in the first book as he is in the last of Don’s original novels. It’s like one gigantic novel that came to us in a bunch of volumes. 

Then there’s one of Don’s last books, Copp in Shock; not his best, but one of my favorites. It’s a detective novel narrated by a private eye suffering from amnesia. Well, Don was enduring some challenging health issues at the time he wrote that one and in fact was suffering from severe memory loss. His wife, Linda, heroically assisted him. Of all the thrillers written about characters with amnesia, this is the only one I’m aware of that was written by an author recovering from amnesia while he wrote it!

Stephen Mertz (right) with Don Pendleton (left) and Richard S. Prather

I know you are a fan of the early pulp stories – your terrific short story “The Lizard Men of Blood River,” featured in The King of Horrors and Other Tales is an homage to the work of Lester Dent.  Are there any other pulp writers you particularly like?

There are writers who wrote for the pulps but aspired to greater things. There I am talking about Dashiell Hammett, Raymond Chandler and, for my money, Mickey Spillane. But then there were writers who only stayed in the pulp field. That’s all they wanted to do. That is what they did do. Those guys are mostly fun. That is the word you have to go with. If you measured them up against people I just named, most of them aren’t going to cut the mark…but then, who does? We’re in a Golden Age of pulp reprints so I don’t know what’s kept them from rediscovering Cleve F. Adams, a very funny hardboiled PI writer who wrote for the detective magazines in the 1930’s and ‘40’s. Of course, pulp writing is always with us. When the magazines faded away, pulp fiction just moved over to paperback novels. I’d have to go to the 1950s-60s for my second favorite unknown and that is Ennis Willie. I helped edit a collection of his work that Stark House published. It’s great hardboiled tough guy stuff.

Your later work, starting with Blood Red Sun (1989), is more ambitious than your earlier work. What, as you see it, is the major difference between writing the more formulaic adventure novels of your past, and these bigger and more robust novels you have been producing over the past few decades?

Well, they’re more fun to write for one thing and I hope that translates into the fact that they are more fun to read. I am not reinventing the wheel. I am falling back on things I learned writing pulp fiction when I write the more ambitious novels.

Blood Red Sun was published by Diamond Books, which was a publishing house started by Warren Murphy. Did you work directly with Mr. Murphy during its publication, and if so, what was the experience like?

No, I never had any contact with Warren. He was sort of the money guy there.  We did cross paths a couple of times years later. I worked with some editor. I forget his name. What I was trying to do with Blood Red Sun: that was my first book where I really stretched out and tried to say something and tell a tale that hadn’t been told before. I mentioned earlier, Hammett and Chandler. I was trying to do what they did and that was to take genre fiction and lift it into something that had broader scope and appeal. That is what I was trying to do with Blood Red Sun: take the tropes of action/adventure and honestly tell a story that could really have happened. 

Blood Red Sun, The Korean Intercept (2005), and Dragon Games (2010) are set in Asia; World War II Japan, North Korea, and China, respectively. Does the Asian continent hold any special interest for you?

Well yes, but no more so than, say, the Middle East. The primary engine for fiction has got to be conflict and normally that is personal conflict, but you take entire cultures in conflict and, man, you are really working with something there. If you look at the history of those regions you just named and the culture of those countries and you stack that up side by side with the American way of looking at things, rarely if ever will they connect or even brush into each other. So in terms of being a novelist, there’s a lot to work with. And plus, let's face it, Asian chicks are hot.

You have written two novels, Fade to Tomorrow (2004) and Hank & Muddy (2011), which are set in the music world. In the Afterword of The King of Horror & Other Stories, you wrote that you performed as a professional musician – vocals and harp (harmonica) – for seven years:  Do these titles hold any special meaning for you since they are centered around music and musicians?

Oh, very much so. I think Hank & Muddy is the best novel I’ve written thus far, although it is certainly not cool to admire one of your children more than another. But still, music just flows through me. In fact, most of the years I was writing my early pulp fiction I didn’t write with any photograph or icon of any writer near me for inspiration; I had a picture over my desk of Chuck Berry doing the duck walk. The music we listen to says so much about us. Just like the food we eat and the movies we watch and the clothes we buy.

Hank & Muddy is a fictional imagining of Hank Williams and Muddy Waters meeting in Louisiana in 1952. The narrative is loaded with biographical information of both men. What type of research did you do?

This one pretty much ties into the last question. I’ve been listening to what they today call roots music since I was in high school. The Rolling Stones opened the door to a lot of us kids to what the blues was and soul music and everything else. So really the research for that book, I never really sat down and researched that one. I seem to remember almost every liner note and every musician’s biography that I’ve ever read. It was my long suffering mother who once observed that if I could only remember my multiplication tables as well as I remembered who played bass on Chuck Berry records, I’d be a brilliant mathematician. Mom, rest her soul, was right. I’ve been living music and writing since the day I found out about either one. I guess it’s inevitable that each would influence the other.

The title story in The King of Horror & Other Stories features a bitter writer who is no longer able to sell his work. In your Afterword you wrote it was an “open letter” to your friend Michael Avallone who had similar difficulties at the end of his writing career. Mr. Avallone had a wild reputation of self-promotion and an uncanny ability to bring others to anger. Do you have a story or two about Michael Avallone you would be willing to share?

I not only loved Michael Avallone but I also loved his wife, Fran, who was a great woman. She was everything that someone who loves a writer should be. I’ll always remember visiting them at 80 Hilltop Boulevard in East Brunswick, NJ. Fran cooked up a fantastic Italian dinner; this would have been 1983. Mike was pretty much in the state that you just mentioned.  He and I were sitting in his office which was within easy earshot although not within view of the kitchen where Fran was slaving over a hot stove. Mike went on about his travails, the challenges that were facing him and any number of complaints. He went on and he went on and he went on. I loved every word and I loved every minute of it. But I have a clear memory of Fran periodically calling up to us, “Michael, shut up and listen!” I am happy to report that Michael did not, could not, heed her advice. I walked away the richer for it.

Stephen Mertz (left) and Michael Avallone

Your more recent work has a quiet humor to it.  An example is Kim Jong-II using terrified prisoners as personal barbers in The Korean Intercept. Was this imaginary on your part, or is there some truth to it?

No, that was my sick imagination running rampant through my fingertips. By all accounts, the guy was totally bugfuck. You have two ways to look at that when you’re portraying it: you can either shake your head and let it happen or you can try to pull something out of it. It seems that if the guy was going to be crazy, he would be crazy in every department, not just in what he was doing to his own people but also getting a haircut. He was probably no fun to go shopping with. 

You wrote two dark suspense novels, Night Wind (2002) and Devil Creek (2004), which are different from anything else you’ve written. They both have significant elements of horror, suspense, and even a touch of romance. These novels, to me, showcase your range as a writer.  Would you tell us a little about these books?

Actually, when we get to the novels and stories published under my own name, nearly every one is different from anything else I’ve written. That’s my restless nature. I bore easily. I develop a story about people when I feel compelled to do so and when I’m finished writing that novel or story, I’m ready to move on; meet new people and write new stories. I think that is probably the overriding aspect of my work over the past fifteen years. Most of the novels are different from each other. The main similarity is that I wrote them. The idea for Night Wind had been in me since I moved to a remote rural area in Arizona. There’s no convenience store, no stop lights. The old joke is that Welcome and Come Again are on the same sign. When I first moved here thirty years ago, I was keenly aware that I was an outsider. Now I can spot an outsider right off. But feeling the way I first did, that if terrible crimes were suddenly committed right after I’d just moved here, good people would be well within the realm of reason to suspect that I, the unknown newcomer, had something to do with it . . . that’s the plot.

Funny story about Night Wind. One evening I had dinner with Joe Lansdale and a friend of his, Dean Koontz. Dean had just written a book, How to Write Best Selling Fiction. I had never read any Dean Koontz but after meeting him, I bought that book. It’s probably the best book about commercial writing that I’ve ever read. I perused that book meticulously. Then, still without reading any of Dean’s novels, I wrote Night Wind. People still come up to me after reading that one and say, “Hey, that reminds me of reading a Dean Koontz novel!"  Considering Dean’s enormous success, I’ve decided to interpret that as a compliment.

Do you have plans to write any other dark tales?

I will let you know when I get there.

You have been very prolific in the past few years. You have published a handful of novels, including creating a new adult western series called Blaze! Would you tell us a little about the series, and its genesis?

Now we’re back to the latest medium for pulp fiction. I created that series to establish a presence in the digital reading world; a series was the best way to go, so I worked a twist on the western genre that I’d never encountered before. Its genesis is a short story I wrote called “Last Stand,” which introduces a pair of gunfighters who are the two fastest guns in the West…who just happen to be married to each other. Kate and J.D. Blaze. I couldn't get away from the idea that those two deserved more than one story. I am happy to say that Rough Edges Press felt the same way and, in fact, wanted to amp up with a bi-monthly publication schedule. I’m too slow a writer to accommodate that, so a handful of topnotch writers stepped in to maintain consistent scheduling. They’ve just published Book #10 and presently there are enough books in the pipeline to get us through the year. J.D. and Kate. She’s a little smarter than he is but dog-gone-it, J.D. is a standup gent. They banter back and forth in between shooting the bad guys and sorting out various marital issues. These are western tall tales for today’s audience.

J.D. stands for Jehoram Delfonso.  Where did you come up with such an awkwardly intriguing name?

Well, it’s method writing. You try to be the guy, y’know? Would you want to be called Jehoram Delfonso, or J.D.? I know I'd prefer J.D. Jehoram is a warrior king in the Old Testament. At least once per book, Kate gets so mad at J.D. about something that she’ll call him by his given name in public. She’s the only person alive who has ever called him that besides his mother.

Many of your early works have appeared in eBook format over the past few years and you have several new titles that are primarily available as eBooks – Sherlock Holmes:  Zombies Over London, the Blaze! series. EBooks have seemingly opened new markets for many writers. What are your thoughts about eBooks, and how have they impacted your career?

It doesn’t make sense not to write for the digital market. Writers write to be read and these days that’s where the action is. It’s an exciting time to be a writer. I’m reminded of the 1950s. From what I know of the history of those years in popular writing, between the invention of the paperback novel, the advent of television, and comic books, all of a sudden there were all of these new ways to make money writing but everyone was still trying to figure out just how.  It was a wild frontier. That’s the way it is now. The M.I.A. Hunter series has gotten a second life. The new novels like Dragon Games and Hank & Muddy are doing well as eBooks. It’s a mixed blessing. As a reader, I prefer to sit under a light with a real book in my hands but as a writer, I’d have to say that much of my writing income today comes from eBook sales. So, it’s hard to be less than happy about success.

Speaking of eBooks, you did an interview with the blog Glorious Trash in 2013 and hinted there may be new M.I.A. Hunter novels appearing as eBooks. Is this still a possibility, or have you moved away from the idea?

No, it’s actually already happening. I’ve written a new Mark Stone, a reboot set in the present. Also, years ago when we were both hungry young lads, Joe Lansdale and I collaborated on three M.I.A. Hunter books.  They’ve just sold out a Subterranean Press hardcover omnibus of those so they’re now available in eBook format and trade paperback. Bonus material is included in the new editions to take readers behind the scenes of the development of the novels.

I heard this question in an interview on a BBC program a few years ago. If you were stranded on an island and you had only one book, what would it be?

Well, of course, we all have our favorite novels but once read, the great ones are remembered.  I’d have to cheat. I snuck in two. If I was looking at eternity all by myself on a deserted island and wanted entertainment, wisdom, and to stay in touch with the universe beyond the end of my nose, reckon I’d pack along a Bible and The Collected Plays of Mr. Shakespeare.

 The opposite side of the coin. If you were allowed only to recommend one of your novels, or stories, which one would you want people to read?

Hank & Muddy. That one just has a life of its own. I love that book and I hope I write a few more that are as good.