Dave Zeltserman's Blog, page 26
April 3, 2015
Bullet of prose #14 from JULIUS KATZ AND ARCHIE
“Yeah, well, as far as the TV and newspaper reporters are going to be concerned, Kenneth J. Kingston will be trumping you at your own game. Should I be ordering you a dunce cap now for the occasion? I might be able to find a good deal.”
Julius slowly began rubbing his knuckles again. “Enough of this, Archie.”
I should’ve taken the hint, but I couldn’t help myself. “Sure, of course,” I said. “I understand. But Boss, should I get a jump on updating your biography to reference that you’re no longer Boston’s most brilliant detective, but have slipped to the second-most? Or should I wait until after Kingston plays you for a chump? Now that I think of it, after that happens I’m not even sure you could legitimately claim that title since probably every other working private investigator in Boston would be able to prove themselves intellectually superior to Kingston, so by the transitive property that would in effect make you Boston’s least brilliant detective. Not as compelling a title for you to hold, but I guess we’ll have to deal with it. If you want I can order stationary now to that effect, or I can wait until—”
I pushed him too far. Julius cut me off, saying, “Goodnight, Archie.” And blast it! My world went black as he turned me off!
April 2, 2015
Bullet of Prose #13 from BLOOD CRIMES
The thug looked confused that someone as thin as Jim could lift him with one hand so effortlessly off the ground, especially since he outweighed Jim by a good sixty pounds. Up close the thug was ugly as sin; pockmarked, bald—and for a short moment before he had edged his switchblade out of his pants pocket—as scared-looking as any little kid had ever been.
Once the blade was open and the moonlight reflected off of it that changed and the thug transformed back to the brutish animal he was. Jim was grateful for that. It made it easier for him to do what he had to. He didn’t give him a chance to use the knife; instead he crushed every bone in the thug’s hand and sent the blade falling harmlessly to the ground—not that the thug would’ve been able to do much with it anyway. After that the skull was next.
April 1, 2015
KILLER strikes again in Germany!
I'm happy to be able to report that KILLER made Die Welt's best crime novel list for a second straight month, along with novels from Adrian McKinty, James Ellroy, and James Lee Burke.Bullet of Prose #12 from KILLER
“What if I gave them Salvatore Lombard?”
That gets my lawyer’s attention. It would have to, me offering up Boston’s top crime boss. Up until that moment he’d only been going through the motions, halfheartedly suggesting that he might be able to cut me a deal for thirty years, but using a tone which indicated he didn’t really believe that. I can’t blame him. I’ve already seen the same videotapes and wire tap transcripts that he has. The state has me dead to rights for a long laundry list of crimes including extortion, a shitload of Mann Act violations and attempted murder. My busting up an undercover cop’s skull with a crowbar was only icing on the cake as far as they were concerned.
March 31, 2015
Bullet of Prose #11 from BAD KARMA
Shannon started to stand up. Before he got to his feet, the older Russian stepped forward and threw a hard jab. Shannon saw the punch coming but wasn’t able to react fast enough to roll with it and it caught him flush in the eye. He felt like he’d been hit with a chunk of concrete and the punch knocked him against the wall.
“That wasn’t very nice of you,” Shannon said, his hand up against his eye.
“We not nice men,” the younger Russian said, smiling broadly and showing off yellowed, crooked teeth.
March 30, 2015
Bullet of Prose #10 from BAD THOUGHTS
Shannon opened his eyes, cold sweat running down his back. For a brief heartbeat he had smelled that sickly pungent odor again. For that same brief heartbeat he had a vague image of the person who had been hiding in Janice Rowley’s car. An image of someone large, of diseased flesh, and of evil. He couldn’t hold on to it, though. It slipped away into the ether.
March 29, 2015
Bullet of Prose #9 from FAST LANE
I stood up and turned away, but I couldn’t get that picture of him out of my mind, of him getting excited hearing what his daughter was doing for a buck in a peep show.
“Oh God,” he was going on, hamming it up. “I’ll make sure she gets professional help. I’ll make sure—”
I spun on my heels and swung at him, catching him hard on his mouth and bursting his lip wide open. He went down like he’d been shot. I only half saw him as he curled into a fetal position, spitting out blood and a couple of teeth.
March 28, 2015
Bullet of Prose #8 from THE BOY WHO KILLED DEMONS
I made a mental note to myself after that that I had to be more careful when looking at demons. I wasn’t expecting other demons in that courtroom, but it was still no excuse to let down my guard. They’re sly and clever and have an innate sense of when they’ve been recognized. If I make a mistake like that again, it could be the end for me.
March 27, 2015
Bullet of Prose #7 from MONSTER
An animal instinct woke me. The sun had barely appeared in the horizon and a gray haziness filled the air. Moving stealthily toward me was a member of the clergy, and he carried a pitchfork as if his plans were to run me through. He was less than five feet from me, and as I was startled awake by his approach, he jumped backward, his large craggy face waxen in the faint early morning light, his mouth opened to form a rigid circle.
"You are lying on hallowed grounds, daemon!” he swore at me, his eyes wide as they reflected a mix of fear and self-righteousness. “Do not blasphemy this area any further with your presence. Begone!”
