Dallas Noir by David Hale Smith

Author:David Hale Smith [Smith, David Hale]
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

LIKE KISSING YOUR SISTER

BY JAMES HIME

Irving

As they pulled into the parking lot of the tittie bar out by the new Texas Stadium, Captain Jeremiah Spur could no longer refrain from commenting on the weather. “I’d be inclined to say it’s rainin’ like a cow pissin’ on a flat rock,” he said as he took a drag on his Camel, “but in my experience cows always piss straight down. This here wind has the weather all sideways.”

The uniformed officer who was at the wheel of the patrol car, a man by the name of White, nodded at the Texas Ranger. “Weatherman said we was in for a toad strangler.”

“How come they’re always correct when they predict it’ll turn out miserable? Sure ’nough gonna make for a muddy track over at the Cotton Bowl.”

“Who you like in that game?”

Jeremiah took a last drag on his cigarette and snuffed it out in the ashtray. “I’m an Aggies fan. When Texas and OU play, I mostly cheer for injuries. That was a joke. I think the crime scene is around back of the place.”

It was still morning. The parking lot outside the joint, the Silver Garter, was empty. Jeremiah knew that it was a front for the Dallas Mafia, which was run by Joe Campagnolo out of the Egyptian Lounge over on Mockingbird.

Jeremiah had spent the last year and a half trying to take down the Campagnolo gang, but he didn’t have much to show for it so far.

Maybe this morning would represent a turning point. But he was loath to get his hopes up.

They pulled around back and were greeted by crime scene tape, a van from the ME’s office, a few police cruisers, and a couple of civilian rides. The tape cordoned off an area around a cream-colored 1984 Oldsmobile 88.

“Nice car,” said the driver as he pulled to a stop. “I hadn’t seen the new model yet.”

“I doubt the man has had it long enough to make the first payment. Guess we better get on with it.”

As he stepped out into the monsoon, Jeremiah pulled his slicker to and fastened it. His Stetson all but got away from him in the wind and he had to clutch it to his head. He had covered it in a plastic shell, the better to keep it from being ruined by the rain.

He was not by nature a man much given to vanity, but he set considerable store by his hat.

Jeremiah ducked under the crime scene tape. He made his way around the front of the car to the driver’s side, Officer White at his heels. The big Ranger peered in the vehicle at the body lying slumped over the steering wheel. Blood and brain matter smeared the windshield glass from the inside. He eyed it for a few minutes and then straightened up.

“Could have been the work of Joe’s boys. Shot at close range behind the right ear. That’s about their style. You say he managed this place?” His chin jerked toward the strip joint.

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