ASININE ASSASSINS, published by SmartRino Publications, includes
my short story "Just Call Wally, " which has been nominated for a
Derringer Award..
Simpletons & Suspense - Welcome to
ASININE ASSASSINS. Inept, brainless, daft, harebrained, loony,
witless, lunkheaded, just plain stupid. Not exactly attributes you seek when
employing a hired gun, right?
This is NOT your typical crime fiction. If you love a
wonderful blend of suspense, humor, and general weirdness, expect to be
surprised and entertained by these 23 great stories.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Just Call Wally
by Wil A. Emerson
The noise at the
front door jarred Walt Mason’s head as if thunder had once again shaken
the old rafters. He decided the time had come to look for another place to call
home. He didn’t need to be in the same building where he conducted his
business. As he pulled a pillow over his head, the pounding came again, this
time with a voice.
“Wally, let
me in. Wally.”
What the hell.
Walt looked at his watch. Three in the morning. He wasn’t on night duty.
What the hell. As brain fog cleared, he sat up in bed. Damn that Ollie.
Mason pulled the
door open, just enough to confirm the excess noise had been caused by the one
and only Ollie Hanover.
“It’s
three in the morning. What the hell?”
“I know what
time it is. I need some help.”
“Go home,
come back at noon.”
“Can’t.
Please, let me sit for a while.”
“Sit you
can. Don’t say a word, don’t even breath.” Mason yanked the
chain and let Ollie through the narrow space.
As Mason slunk
back to his bedroom, Ollie called out, “I need your help now.”
“What the
hell? Didn’t you hear me?”
“I killed
Danny Donnelly.”
Mason turned
around so fast, his neck bones crackled. “Why in the world did you kill
Donnelly?”
“Because
Booster paid me.”
“That crook
paid you to kill Danny Donnelly?”
“Yep,
that’s what I said. I don’t know what to do with his body.”
Mason scratched
his head as he gazed at Oliver Hanover, the third. The last in a long line of
Hanovers, Ollie was somehow missed when intellectual decision-making developed
in the evolutionary human brain. Mason had known Ollie all his life. From
kindergarten on, shared the same bus ride back and forth every day, ate the
same bologna sandwiches their mothers made the night before. They had parted
ways for a while, after graduating from high school when Walt went to state
college. Ollie stayed behind to do various jobs. Sometimes a job actually
included a paycheck from a reputable business. When Walt came back to Marlboro,
Virginia, to continue his family’s business, he checked in on Ollie
frequently.
Then, Ollie’s
parents died ten years ago, in the same month. Of course, their rental of the
two-bedroom apartment ceased to be an option for their son. Ollie needed a
place to call home. So Walt, like the older brother Ollie never had, rented him
a flat in the adjoining building so he wouldn’t sleep out in the cold.
Not that Ollie was
mentally challenged. He was a math wizard of sorts, good with a paintbrush, but
he just couldn’t make the neuron-dendrite connections to stick to a
reasonable plan of action for survival. Walt loved him and hated him, too. An
albatross around his neck for far too many years. He’d lost both wives
because of Ollie. Or at least that’s what Megan and then Karla claimed.
Didn’t question their motives. Walt took care of the payments at
settlement time.
So far, Walt had
done well with his life. The family business grew, as did the surrounding
neighborhood. Always a need for his service to the point he hired three equally
capable employees who provided a sense of freedom from the twenty-four/seven
requirements of the job at hand. Walt’s life wasn’t a long list of
ongoing complaints. And it wasn’t Walt’s nature to begrudge his
friend a helping hand.
Walt gazed at
Ollie. Good-looking, curly red hair always kept neat, blue eyes that begged for
attention, a strong jawline. He stayed in the best of shape because Ollie
walked or ran twenty miles a week. The women often swooned over
Ollie—until they got to know him. It usually took about a week before the
shine wore off. If only the motherly type would come along, fold her arms and
heart around the guy, and forever protect him from himself. That would be a
blessing, Walt thought.
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click here to order ASININE ASSASSINS.
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