I have a story in the new issue of Mystery Tribune (no. 11, fall 2019): In “Blackout,” a private eye is hired by a man who awoke from an alcoholic blackout with no memory of how his jaw got broken on the night in question. The problem is the private eye may not have a sober grasp on reality himself. As the investigation veers sideways, the detective spirals out of control.
Here’s is an excerpt:
The gentleman’s mouth was wired almost completely shut. Also, he had some bruises about his face and neck. One wrist was in a cast. I made a mental note of these as I endeavored to decipher what he was saying.
“My friend Bob was heartbroken over his girl, Jeannie,” he said. “Big, knockdown, drag-out, breakup fight, know what I mean? So we decided to go out and get blotto.”
“What was that?” I said.
“Blotto. You know: drunk.”
I did in fact know what “blotto” meant but I had not been able to understand the word that had come out of his clenched mouth.
“So, we decided on this club we like called Rvota.”
Useless trivia alert: “Rvota” is Russian for “puking.” You can order a print copy of issue no. 11 on the Mystery Tribune website here. A digital version will be available on the Giant Evil Corporation site soon.