Charles Boeckman Presents: Johnny Nickle

By Pro Se Press

From The Imagination of a Classic Pulp Author come New Stories Featuring His Characters!

Prolific Pulp Author Charles Boeckman gave the world
unforgettable tales in the days of the Pulps and through the age of digests and into the modern era as well! And now characters created by Boeckman from the golden age of Pulps live again in new tales written by today's best authors! CHARLES BOECKMAN PRESENTS, a new imprint from Pro Se Productions licensed through Mr. Boeckman himself debuts with CHARLES BOECKMAN PRESENTS JOHNNY NICKLE VOLUME 1!

Charles Boeckman Presents Johnny Nickle in a return engagement more than fifty years overdue! Join Johnny as he performs NOTES IN THE FOG written by Richard White and THE DEVIL YOU KNOW penned by Brad Mengel! Grab a backstage pass to see Johnny tackle mystery and murder with a soundtrack that cooks with red hot women, ice cold killers, triple time thrills, and smokin' jazz!

Featuring a stunning cover by Adam Shaw and Cover Design by Sean Ali and Ebook Formatting and Design by Russ Anderson, CHARLES BOECKMAN PRESENTS JOHNNY NICKLE delivers like a cool Jazz ensemble on the hottest night of any year!

From Pro Se Productions!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pro Se Press
• Release date: May 6, 2013

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

CHARLES BOECKMAN PRESENTS:

JOHNNY NICKLE

Copyright © 2013, 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- David White

Editor in Chief, Pro Se Productions-Tommy Hancock

Submissions Editor-Barry Reese

Director of Corporate Operations-Morgan Minor

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

Notes in the Fog copyright © 2013 Richard White

The Devil You Know copyright © 2013 Brad Mengel

Johnny Nickle created by Charles Boeckman

Cover Art by Adam Shaw

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

E-book design and layout by Russ Anderson

TABLE OF CONTENTS

NOTES IN THE FOG

by Richard White

THE DEVIL YOU KNOW

by Brad Mengel

NOTES IN THE FOG

By Richard White

The wail of a trumpet pierced the crowd noise as Johnny hit the final notes of his signature song, Jazz Date. After years of not playing it, it felt good not to be looking over his shoulder about the curse. With a flourish, he swept the trumpet down and bowed to the now-standing crowd. As the last notes of the song still reverberated in the Last National Fog Bank, Johnny stood up and waved toward the member of the band, giving them an opportunity to take their bows before they started breaking down the stage.

Johnny grabbed the microphone and turned back toward the crowd. Thank you all very much. I’m Johnny Nickle and we’re the Daybreakers. It’s been a pleasure playing here on Cannery Row. We’ll be back tomorrow and the rest of the week. Take care of your waitresses and we’ll see you all soon.

He always hated doing that. He knew as soon as they stopped playing, the crowd relegated them into the background. He guessed when they weren’t playing they rated somewhere above the plants by the door and the tablecloths—but not much. Still, it made Management happy and since Management signed the checks, Johnny knew who to please. He’d gotten over being an artiste a long, long time ago.

Johnny gave the crowd a once-over but he didn’t see anyone he knew. The cigarette smoke swirled in the club, mixing with some of the Monterey fog that crept in through the now-open door. A couple of the large guys standing around the table in the corner looked familiar, but he’d seen these guys in Vegas, Houston, L.A. and definitely in Chicago. They were familiar because they were wearing suits that barely fit them and they had bulges where they didn’t belong. There was no question some of the boys were packing heat in here, but as long as they weren’t looking for him, he didn’t really care. He noted the man at the table and the flashy blonde he was with. Johnny made a mental note not to bump into them in the fog outside. The muscle standing nearby looked like the type to send him to the hospital first and ask questions never.

Hey, Johnny.

Steve, the drummer, moved closer and slouched against one of the poles near the stage. We’re going down to Alvarado Street. Wanna come?

Johnny paused and deliberately ran a hand through the gray hair at his temples. Nah. I’m going to grab a beer and head back to the hotel. It was a great show tonight, but I’m bushed.

Steve laughed at his age excuse. Not buying it, Johnny. You get more energized by a crowd than any two guys I’ve ever seen. You were really rocking out up there. That’s the best you’ve sounded on this tour.

A gravelly voice broke in. Albert, the owner of the Last National Fog Bank, leaned in to the conversation. You all sounded great. You keep this up and keep those crowds lining up and there’ll be a little extra at the end of this gig for you. Plus, I’ve already called my cousin up in San Fran. He’s got an opening coming up and he’d love to have you guys fill in.

Steve’s eyes looked like saucers as he turned back to the band leader. San Francisco, Johnny. Big time.

Bigger time, Steve. Bigger time. But, yeah, Albert, that sounds great. What say we get together before the show tomorrow and talk business.

You got it, Johnny. Great show. Great show.

Johnny watched the man walk away. He’d seen so many Alberts that they all ran together in his mind. Still, a gig in San Francisco might be the push the band needed to get a recording label to give them a shot. Prove that Johnny Nickle was back and back in a big way.

So, Johnny, you sure you don’t want to come?

Look, Steve. You guys go ahead and enjoy yourselves. You don’t need an old fossil like me crampin’ your style.

Your loss, Johnny. See you tomorrow.

Johnny just shook his head as he put his horn away in the case after wiping it down and cleaning everything up. He was probably old enough to be their dad, but they played jazz like they’d been doing it since the cradle. This group was probably the best one he’d worked with in years. They reminded him of guys he used to play with back in the thirties and forties . . . before the war, the booze or the lifestyle burned them out.

Can I buy you a drink?

Johnny prayed the woman behind him was half as beautiful as her voice. He turned around and realized it was someone he’d seen before. She’d been at the concert the other night, her pale skin contrasting with the dark hair and dark blue dress she wore. Unlike most of the people at the bar, Johnny could tell she got it when he watched her react to the songs. He almost could feel her conducting from her seat. He had to admit, her presence had inspired some of the best music he’d played this gig.

Sure thing, he said with a smile. He followed her to the bar and she ordered a martini for herself and his favorite beer. He leaned against the bar for a moment, letting some of the high from playing wash off of him before turning to look at her. She wasn’t very tall, but she was definitely easy on his eyes. I appreciate the drink. You really seemed to be enjoying yourself tonight.

I adore jazz. I’ve always wanted to try singing in a band, but never had the courage to try.

You might be able to. You’ve got the voice for it.

She glanced up at him over the martini glass. That’s sweet, Johnny.

You’ve got me at a disadvantage. I haven’t gotten your name yet.

Julie. Julie Dominguez.

Johnny looked over the rapidly diminishing crowd before he turned back to her. Well, Julie Dominguez, what do you do when you’re not wishing you could be singer?

Her cute face pinched up into a frown. Now you’re making fun of me.

No, not really. I’m curious. What keeps you from following your dream?

"What I do is work at one of the stores here in town. What kept me from being a singer? Probably because Phil Dominguez asked me to marry him."

Johnny’s face lit up at hearing that name. He did? That dog. He’s one lucky guy. So, how long you guys been hitched? You know, I was wondering why your last name sounded so familiar. What did he do to make you give up singing? I know him. He’s a great sax player. You two would have been a great team.

You know, he used to talk about you all the time. I think he had every record you cut, Johnny. Phil always bragged about how good you were, but it doesn’t compare to hearing you live. It was sweet hearing you actually play.

Phil is entirely too nice. Where is he? I’d like to say ‘Hi’ to him. Hell, I’d love to have him sit in with us before we leave town.

You haven’t heard?

Heard what? I haven’t seen Phil since we were playing down in Texas years ago.

A dark cloud passed over her face. Johnny, he’s dead.

Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.

They say he fell off the end of one of the piers and drowned before anyone could hear him.

There was something in her voice that set his nerves on edge. Living on the run for several years, he’d gotten very good at picking up on non-verbal clues. He motioned for the bartender to get