E. Ivan Infante's Blog
September 24, 2014
FIXED FIGHT
I've put another piece of the latest Mike Chance up on my blog IvanInfantewrites.com Check it out.
September 2, 2014
Positive Review
I received my first positive review from a website. I've gotten many awesome reviews from readers, but this is the first from a website dedicated to crime fiction. I am very proud. Check it out.
http://www.crimefictionlover.com/2014...
http://www.crimefictionlover.com/2014...
August 2, 2014
Free on Amazon
Check out my book FALSE RANSOM.
http://www.amazon.com/False-Ransom-Mi...
http://www.amazon.com/False-Ransom-Mi...
August 1, 2014
Rough opening of FIXED FIGHTS
Here's the opening paragraphs of the book. It's a little rough, but I'm starting to like it more and more. Let me know what you think! You can check out more at IvanInfantewrites.com
January 15th 1938
Mike Chance stood in the stern of the wooden Bearcat water-taxi wearing a tuxedo and tugging at its collar. He had stolen the outfit off a drunk the night before and he had been a little off when sizing up his victim. The suit didn’t quite fit.
Mike braced himself with a hand atop the canvas roofed cabin. As the boat tumbled down the far side of a wave, Mike let his knees give a little and he swayed down to look through the open hatch into the passenger compartment. There weren’t many other people on board, only Benny and a couple of sour-faced gunmen. Benny also wore a tuxedo, but his was exceedingly well tailored.
The gunman who sat across from him wore cheap, threadbare suits. They had met Mike and Benny in the parking lot and frisked them without saying a word. Then they walked them down to the water taxi, ushered them onboard and frisked them again.
Waves rocked the boat and Mike turned his attention to staying on his feet. Gusts of wind made that even more difficult and brought seawater in buckets, so Mike ducked down and slid below deck.
He sat down next to Benny and lit a smoke. He puffed and stared out the square portholes at the big white-capped waves. They were in for a rough trip. Good thing it was short. The run from Santa Monica pier took ten minutes on a calm clear day, but this wasn’t one of those days.
Mike looked over at his partner. Benny’s eyes were shut and his face had turned a milky pale green. Across from him, the gunmen sat in over-size coats that bunched up around their necks and made their heads seem tiny. They stared at Benny with a look of anticipation. One of the men held a fiver. The other had his finger’s crossed. They had wagered on whether or not Benny was going to throw up. Benny had taken this ride many times before. The odds were 5 to 1 in favor of sick.
Mike liked those odds. He reached into his pocket, brought out a couple of bucks, and waved them at the gunman with the fiver in his hands. The thug twisted his face into something that fell a few teeth short of a smile, reached into his jacket, and came back with a ten. Mike nodded back at him, then turned his attention to Benny. The little guy had his eyes screwed shut and he sweat bullets, but he didn’t upchuck.
Mike looked out the portholes again. On the horizon, a hulking rusty-white barge bobbed low in the water. It looked more like a box than a boat. Everything had been taken out to make room for gambling and a long wooden building had been built on deck. It had a neon sign on top of it that spelled out CASINO in bright red letters, right now this was not lit.
January 15th 1938
Mike Chance stood in the stern of the wooden Bearcat water-taxi wearing a tuxedo and tugging at its collar. He had stolen the outfit off a drunk the night before and he had been a little off when sizing up his victim. The suit didn’t quite fit.
Mike braced himself with a hand atop the canvas roofed cabin. As the boat tumbled down the far side of a wave, Mike let his knees give a little and he swayed down to look through the open hatch into the passenger compartment. There weren’t many other people on board, only Benny and a couple of sour-faced gunmen. Benny also wore a tuxedo, but his was exceedingly well tailored.
The gunman who sat across from him wore cheap, threadbare suits. They had met Mike and Benny in the parking lot and frisked them without saying a word. Then they walked them down to the water taxi, ushered them onboard and frisked them again.
Waves rocked the boat and Mike turned his attention to staying on his feet. Gusts of wind made that even more difficult and brought seawater in buckets, so Mike ducked down and slid below deck.
He sat down next to Benny and lit a smoke. He puffed and stared out the square portholes at the big white-capped waves. They were in for a rough trip. Good thing it was short. The run from Santa Monica pier took ten minutes on a calm clear day, but this wasn’t one of those days.
Mike looked over at his partner. Benny’s eyes were shut and his face had turned a milky pale green. Across from him, the gunmen sat in over-size coats that bunched up around their necks and made their heads seem tiny. They stared at Benny with a look of anticipation. One of the men held a fiver. The other had his finger’s crossed. They had wagered on whether or not Benny was going to throw up. Benny had taken this ride many times before. The odds were 5 to 1 in favor of sick.
Mike liked those odds. He reached into his pocket, brought out a couple of bucks, and waved them at the gunman with the fiver in his hands. The thug twisted his face into something that fell a few teeth short of a smile, reached into his jacket, and came back with a ten. Mike nodded back at him, then turned his attention to Benny. The little guy had his eyes screwed shut and he sweat bullets, but he didn’t upchuck.
Mike looked out the portholes again. On the horizon, a hulking rusty-white barge bobbed low in the water. It looked more like a box than a boat. Everything had been taken out to make room for gambling and a long wooden building had been built on deck. It had a neon sign on top of it that spelled out CASINO in bright red letters, right now this was not lit.
June 25, 2014
FIXED FIGHT
The next Mike Chance novel is now more than 60,000 words long. It will be done in a couple of months. It will be called FIXED FIGHT.
May 21, 2014
Murder with Ice skate
This is a rough piece from near the beginning of FIXED FIGHTS. The second book in the Mike Chance series. I’m editing this today so this is like a still frame of a work in motion.
FIXED FIGHTS
When Mike came out the door to the alley, he swung the skate over his head at the light above the door and smashed it. The alley got dark. Mike moved quickly into the shadows.
Seconds later, Grey Suit stepped out into the pitch black alley and scanned the alley in the weak lightspill from the interior. He saw nothing. After a while, he let the door close behind him and he crept out into the alley.
Mike waited in the recessed doorway of the building across the way. It was so dark, Grey Suit stared right at him and didn’t see him. When the man turned away, Mike pulled the pistol from his coat pocket. He extended his arm until the barrel was inches away from the back of Grey Suit’s head. With a cool calm, he pulled the trigger. There was a loud click. Misfire.
Grey Suit spun around toward the sound, leading with his pistol. Mike dropped his gun and grabbed the tall man’s gun arm. With his other hand, Mike swung the skate upward from where it had dangled at his side. He caught Grey Suit right under the chin. The blade cut an inch deep into the bone and stuck hard. Mike could not pull it out.
Grey Suit gurgled blood. His fingers clenched and pulled the trigger of his piece. Shots ricocheted around the alley. Mike squeezed the wrist. His hand was strong like a vice and Grey Suit dropped the pistol and fell to his knees.
Mike wrenched the skate upward with all his might and freed it from the man’s jawbone. As Grey Suit clutched at the gushing blood with both hands, Mike fixed his grip on the skate and swung it again. Another blow to the face tore through the man’s cheek and shattered his jaw. Teeth fell to the floor and blood poured from the wound. Mike swung again. This time, the blades slashed across Grey Suit’s temple. The man teetered on his knees. He was out, but a quirk of balance kept him upright.
Mike caught his breathe and gathered his strength to hit the man again. Before he did, he looked over at the doorway to the Polar Palace. Roger stood there gawking with the last of his cigarette dangling in his lips.
Mike turned back to Grey Suit. He hit him again. This time the man fell forward. The body twitched in light seizure, then stopped. Mike dropped the skate, straightened his suit, and brushed himself off. Roger stared with mouth so agape the cigarette fell out of it and sparked on the floor.
FIXED FIGHTS
When Mike came out the door to the alley, he swung the skate over his head at the light above the door and smashed it. The alley got dark. Mike moved quickly into the shadows.
Seconds later, Grey Suit stepped out into the pitch black alley and scanned the alley in the weak lightspill from the interior. He saw nothing. After a while, he let the door close behind him and he crept out into the alley.
Mike waited in the recessed doorway of the building across the way. It was so dark, Grey Suit stared right at him and didn’t see him. When the man turned away, Mike pulled the pistol from his coat pocket. He extended his arm until the barrel was inches away from the back of Grey Suit’s head. With a cool calm, he pulled the trigger. There was a loud click. Misfire.
Grey Suit spun around toward the sound, leading with his pistol. Mike dropped his gun and grabbed the tall man’s gun arm. With his other hand, Mike swung the skate upward from where it had dangled at his side. He caught Grey Suit right under the chin. The blade cut an inch deep into the bone and stuck hard. Mike could not pull it out.
Grey Suit gurgled blood. His fingers clenched and pulled the trigger of his piece. Shots ricocheted around the alley. Mike squeezed the wrist. His hand was strong like a vice and Grey Suit dropped the pistol and fell to his knees.
Mike wrenched the skate upward with all his might and freed it from the man’s jawbone. As Grey Suit clutched at the gushing blood with both hands, Mike fixed his grip on the skate and swung it again. Another blow to the face tore through the man’s cheek and shattered his jaw. Teeth fell to the floor and blood poured from the wound. Mike swung again. This time, the blades slashed across Grey Suit’s temple. The man teetered on his knees. He was out, but a quirk of balance kept him upright.
Mike caught his breathe and gathered his strength to hit the man again. Before he did, he looked over at the doorway to the Polar Palace. Roger stood there gawking with the last of his cigarette dangling in his lips.
Mike turned back to Grey Suit. He hit him again. This time the man fell forward. The body twitched in light seizure, then stopped. Mike dropped the skate, straightened his suit, and brushed himself off. Roger stared with mouth so agape the cigarette fell out of it and sparked on the floor.
May 10, 2014
May 1, 2014
The book is free
My debut crime novel FALSE RANSOM is available free on Amazon for the next few days. Please take a chance and try it out.
False Ransom: The First Mike Chance Novel
False Ransom: The First Mike Chance Novel
