Pro Se Presents: June 2012

By Pro Se Press

Pro Se, Puttin' The Monthly Back Into Pulp, continues doing that with the latest issue of its award winning magazine, PRO SE PRESENTS #11! Featuring the first in a new series of mystery tales from Nancy Hansen and a story of bloody, violent suspense from Kevin Rodgers, PRO SE PRESENTS #11 is a two fisted pulpy punch of action and adventure from Pro Se Productions!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pro Se Press
• Release date: Jun 25, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476394954

Pro Se Press

Based in Batesville, Arkansas, Pro Se Productions has become a leader on the cutting edge of New Pulp Fiction in a very short time.Pulp Fiction, known by many names and identified as being action/adventure, fast paced, hero versus villain, over the top characters and tight, yet extravagant plots, is experiencing a resurgence like never before. And Pro Se Press is a major part of the revival, one of the reasons that New Pulp is growing by leaps and bounds.

Book preview

PRO SE PRESENTS

NEW AUTHORS - NEW VISIONS - NEW PULP FICTION FOR A NEW GENERATION

JUNE 2012

Copyright © 2012, Pro Se Productions

Published by Pro Se Press at Smashwords

The stories in this publication are fictional. All of the characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing of the publisher.

Edited by- Don Thomas and Lee Houston, Jr.

Editor in Chief, Pro Se Productions-Tommy Hancock

Submissions Editor-Barry Reese

Publisher & Pro Se Productions, LLC-Chief Executive Officer-Fuller Bumpers

Pro Se Productions, LLC

133 1/2 Broad Street

Batesville, AR, 72501

870-834-4022

[e-mail]

www.prosepulp.com

The Keener Eye: The Web of Life copyright © 2012 Nancy A. Hansen

Tomahawk Mountain copyright © 2012 Kevin Rodgers

Cover and Interior Art, Book Design, Layout, and additional graphics by Sean E. Ali

E-book design and layout by Russ Anderson

TABLE OF CONTENTS

THE KEENER EYE: THE WEB OF LIFE

by Nancy A. Hansen

TOMAHAWK MOUNTAIN

by Kevin Rodgers

THE KEENER EYE: THE WEB OF LIFE

By Nancy A. Hansen

Kate raised her head slowly, tasting the grit of asphalt and the iron hint of her own blood. She opened her eyes, but the world tilted on a strange axis and swarms of sparks swam in front of her for a few sickening moments. When her vision finally cleared, she recognized the alley as one that was several blocks west from her office. Out front was Lee’s Stir Fry Buffet, their overflowing dumpsters behind her. It was night and she was lying in a dark spot in the delivery lane between the street and the security lights in the back. The whole area stank of rotten food, rancid oil, and old piss. How the hell did I get here?

She couldn’t recall a damn thing about the last twenty-four hours. It didn’t help that she was laying face down in an alley with a dead man under her, let alone that the deceased was the hard-boiled old timer Morey Brewster, of Brewster and Sons Private Investigators. They were her main competitors downtown, and she used to date Dex, the younger son, which is kind of how short and mousy little Katherine Keener got into the PI business in the first place.

She looked down at Morey’s pasty white face, and the sticky dark pool beneath what was left of his head, and sighed. The old spider finally got caught in his own web.

So somebody finally offed you Morey. Guess that’s the way it goes. You always were one for sticking your big nose too deep into things. Like me and Dex…

Her muscles felt like Jell-O, and she had to work hard to lever herself off him without touching the mess on the ground. Eventually Kate half stood up, still pretty wobbly in the legs. There was something hard in her hand that just barely registered as cold metal. She held it up in front of her in the wan light from out back and recoiled in shock.

Shit! Why am I holding a friggin’ gun? This could be the murder weapon! She tilted it a bit, noting that it was a nickel Kimber .45 acp, and knew who used one of those.

No, not Dexter. He’d never do something like this! She looked down at Morey again, trying not to retch. Well, I didn’t do it either! Unh-uh, no way, no how! He didn’t lose half his head to something this size.

With shaking hands she set the weapon down, damn near dropping it before slowly backing away from his corpse. She pulled herself upright, fighting waves of nausea. No way had she shot Morey, though the cantankerous old bastard probably had it coming. Kate wouldn’t shoot anybody, not even in self defense. She didn’t like guns and didn’t own any, though her sporting nut dad had made sure she knew how to handle one. The most she usually carried was a canister of pepper spray or a taser, depending on where she was working and what was legal there.

She’d opened her own agency with the premise that all she did was the slipping around to investigate and check records. What you did with the information afterwards was your business. The bulk of her clients wanted surveillance that involved cheating spouses and checking comp claims for insurance companies, so Kate avoided the more dangerous stuff. While it wasn’t terribly lucrative, she was surviving, and it paid the rent and bought food for her and the cat. PI work in a small Southern New England city sure wasn’t as glamorous as Dexter made it sound but then, she wasn’t taking the high profile cases like the Brewsters did. Those got you in trouble with the law as well as the other party, who’d likely want to see you as cold and dead as Morey was now.

She blinked several times, trying to see straight. The contacts she used for stakeouts had been in a day too long and felt like crispy cornflakes stuck to her eyes. Her head throbbed something fierce. Her fingers probed gently against a lump the size of an oyster on her forehead. Someone cold cocked me for sure. The ooze had dried and matted into her brunette pixie bob. Her pointy little chin was abraded and stuck with sand and who knows what other gook from the alley, and she had bit her tongue hard enough to draw blood. Likely when I was unconscious and tossed down on top of Morey. Even if it was a full blown concussion, it shouldn’t have caused that much memory loss! She had a sickly, shaky feeling that something was not quite right with her insides, because as tough as little Kate Keener was, she felt like she wanted to heave. Why does this shit always happen to me? she grumbled, looking down at the mess she was in.

Looking around further revealed her cell phone was toast. Someone had smashed the crap out of it. She was fiddling with the remains when there was a noise behind her.

Hey! said Kate and waved, calling to a busboy from the Chinese joint who had just come out the back door and was now noisily dumping wet slops from a bucket into one of the already overflowing dumpsters, What time is it? She took two steps in his direction and knew she was going to pass out. Bracing herself on the side of one of the buildings, she looked down and saw blood spatters and nastier stuff all over her dark jacket and black jeans, and she didn’t think any of it was hers. Her stomach protested that fact and she started to gag.

Four AM Miss, the busboy answered in flawless English with just a hint of his Cantonese background. You OK? he said setting down the bucket and coming over hurriedly as she began to wobble toward him. Oh no! Is that… The boss is not going to like this.

I don’t like it much either, she said through a haze of swimming head and queasiness, cutting him off. Call the cops. And get me… g-get m-me… ambulance! His big, frightened eyes seemed to fill up her vision as she flopped into his thin arms and retched all over his apron and shoes.

***

In the hospital, with head wound and abrasions tended, tests done, poked and prodded here and there; the ER sent Kate upstairs to stay a day under observation for a possible concussion. The resident doc had been questioned about the extent of her injuries, and under pressure because of the murder scene she had been removed from, allowed the cops in just long enough to question her about what she might have seen or heard that night. No one downtown at the Rockport PD thought little Kate Keener had anything to do with Morey Brewster’s death, but you never knew. Procedure was procedure, and Connecticut is ‘The Land Of Steady Habits’. The local police department was seriously understaffed so they had called in the Eastern District HQ, and Major Crime sent someone down.

Kate had been wondering when one of the staties would show up. When she heard his voice in the hallway, she sighed in exasperation. You couldn’t mistake the laconic down east cadence of Otto Sardini, who used to be one of Washington County Maine’s finest until he moved south to the Nutmeg state, and hooked up first with Troop E and then MCU East.

Ayah, well, we’ll make it quick, he promised someone as his voice moved closer to her end of the hallway.

"Damn, damn DAMN!!!!" Kate swore under her breath as she pulled the sheet up to her neck and smoothed down the part of her hair not stuck to the bandage. Sardini was an old school hard-ass by-the-book detective with no sense of humor. He didn’t much care for women in dangerous jobs which, in his interpretation, seemed to be just about anything that didn’t keep them barefoot and pregnant. He knew full well she used to be involved with Dex Brewster and he’d keep pushing that this was a lover’s triangle killing or something like that. There was no avoiding Otto; she could hear him out there telling the desk he only needed a statement to get the paperwork done.

Yeah, right…

There was a light knock and the desk jockey from the nurses’ station stuck her head in. Excuse me, Ms. Keener, but someone from the state police wants to talk to you. She gave way as Otto and one of the local smokies pushed past, the kid trooper with the regulation crew cut and big ears looking very lost underneath that large brimmed hat.

Otto was his usual grouchy, sloppy self. His dark blue shirt and gray slacks were very rumpled and his badge hung slightly askew. He had a grimy jacket slung over one arm. Even when he rode a cruiser, he had always looked a mess. Since moving to the MCU, he’d gained a middle-aged potbelly and the thin comb-over wasn’t hiding his receding hairline anymore as much as it accentuated it. Otto always had some stubble, but at that hour in the night, it was almost as dark as his mood. His square jaw was clamped into a deep frown that said he obviously didn’t appreciate being up so late on the account of some ‘damn fool woman’. Otto didn’t much like Kate, and the feeling was mutual.

Well, if it ain’t Little Miss Nancy Drew. I see you got yourself in a fix again, Sardini remarked lightly, but there was no mistaking the sarcasm in his tone.

I’m tired Otto, Kate said with a grimace that was not at all contrived as she shifted in the bed. "Let’s