The Complete Richard Dick Mysteries

By Wade J. McMahan

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?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Untreed Reads
• Release date: Feb 5, 2014
• ISBN: 9781611876659

Book preview

Witch?

The Complete Richard Dick Mysteries

By Wade J. McMahan

Copyright 2014 by Wade J. McMahan

Cover Copyright 2014 by Steve Upham and Untreed Reads Publishing

The author is hereby established as the sole holder of the copyright. Either the publisher (Untreed Reads) or author may enforce copyrights to the fullest extent.

Previously published by Untreed Reads

Bite This!, 2010

Fanged, 2012

Naughty or Nice?, 2010

The Lincoln Park Horror, 2011

Witches Witch?, 2010

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher or author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. The characters, dialogue and events in this book are wholly fictional, and any resemblance to companies and actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Also by Wade J. McMahan and Untreed Reads Publishing

Flying Solo

Trident Caper, in The Untreed Detectives Anthology

http://www.untreedreads.com

The Complete Richard Dick Mysteries

Wade J. McMahan

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.

* * *

Petunia had been right about one thing, the local police offered nothing towards solving my case other than referring to her as, That crazy woman out on Dunkle Levee Road. I pushed on. I visited every restaurant and bar in Wareville over the weekend, hoping to overhear something that would be of value, but came up with nothing.

It was in the Double O Bar & Grill on Monday night that I finally struck gold. I bought several drinks for an old man and began plying him with questions. It didn’t take long to discover what I wanted to know.

That Flaggerboshom woman ish right, he said. Wareville was origin…hic…originon…originonally named for the werewolves known to be in thish area. I’ll tell you what, old Dick Dick, the private dick…hic…you go tomorrow and talk with Mishuss Shlivver, she knows all about it. You bet she knows, yep you go she Mishuss Shlivver.

I didn’t waste any time and visited the Slivver home the following morning. Edna Slivvver was a skinny, prune-faced old dame. Mrs. Slivver, I said as I opened my wallet and handed her my business card, my name is Dick. I wonder if I could have a few minutes of your time?

That depends, Mr. Dick, on what it is you wish to discuss.

Please, just call me Dick, Ma’am. It’s come to my attention that you know quite a bit about this community, and are an expert on its natural history.

Oh, if that’s what you want to discuss, then no. I’m afraid that I can’t discuss anything about that.

My wallet was still in my hand, so I slipped two bucks into plain view. You certain you don’t want to talk? I asked suggestively.

That’s more like it, Mrs. Slivver responded with a tittering laugh. She snatched the bills, and then asked, Okay what is it? What do you want to know?

I represent Miss Petunia Flatterbottom, Ma’am, she has a small place out on Dunkle Levee Road, claims she is being stalked by a werewolf.

A werewolf?

Yes Ma’am, a werewolf. She insists it’s stalking her, says she’s seen and heard the thing.

Oh my goodness, what will people think next? Mrs. Slivver tittered again. Imagine that, a werewolf. I’m afraid your client, Miss Flatterbottom, is merely the victim of an overly excitable imagination. You’ve probably already suspected as much yourself, haven’t you? Why, we haven’t experienced a werewolf in this area for more than twenty years.

Is that right, Ma’am?

That’s right, poor Jed Ledsinger was our last werewolf.

Ledsinger, Ma’am? He was a menace? Killed people here in your community?

Only four. Given our local population of 1500, the actual percentage of deaths was miniscule. The odds of surviving the werewolf were actually stacked in favor of the average citizen, don’t you see. Looking back on it now, the terror within our community was a bit silly, wasn’t it?

Yes, I see that, Ma’am, but what happened to Ledsinger? Why did the killing stop?

By the time we discovered who our werewolf was—they attempt to hide their condition don’t you know—the poor man died of distemper.

Distemper? I thought it took a silver bullet to kill a werewolf.

Oh no, Dick, common canine diseases are equally lethal.

I see, Ma’am, I nodded, although I actually didn’t. Well then, if a werewolf isn’t haunting the area, how do you explain Miss Flatterbottom’s claims of seeing a hairy, two-legged creature that howls into the night?

"Hmm. If she is actually seeing such a creature, and not merely