JACK DANIELS STORIES
JA KONRATH
Copyright © 2010 Joe Konrath
Cover copyright © 2010 Carl Graves
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from Joe Konrath.
INTRODUCTION
There have been seven Jack Daniels novels so far (Whiskey Sour, Bloody Mary, Rusty Nail, Dirty Martini, Fuzzy Navel, Cherry Bomb, and Shaken—coming in 2010.)
The continuing cast of characters in the Jack Daniels books are one of the reasons I enjoy writing them so much. Having established early on that the series is a mixture of humor, scares, mystery, and thrills, I have complete freedom to write short stories in any and all of these sub-genres.
I use shorts to take my characters in places they wouldn't normally go in the novels. Jack can function as a traditional sleuth, solving crimes like Sherlock Holmes or Miss Marple. But she can also star in nail-biting thrillers without any element of mystery. She can even be delegated to sidekick role, letting someone else take center stage.
Harry McGlade can be even goofier in short stories than he is in the books. When I write a McGlade short, I play it for laughs and cross over into parody, which would never work in the novels.
Phineas Troutt is ideal for hardboiled tales. Because he's a criminal, I can walk on the dark side with him, and have him do things that Jack, with her moral compass, would never do.
Plus, I can get away with things in short stories that I can't in my books. I don't have to worry about having lines cut, or having my characters' motivations questioned. For a writer, it's the ultimate indulgence, and the ultimate freedom.
It also allows me to do some pretty fun shit.
And for the completists who want to make sure they have every story in the Jack Daniels universe, there are four novellas (Suckers, Truck Stop, Planter's Punch, Floaters) that aren't in this collection, but are available separately on Amazon Kindle and on my website, www.JAKonrath.com. I've included excerpts at the back of this ebook. Jack is also a supporting character in my thriller novel Shot of Tequila, which takes place in the 1990s when she's still a rookie detective, still married, and her partner Herb was thin. She also appears in a cameo in my upcoming sci-fi book Timecaster Super Symmetry under my pen name Joe Kimball. Jack's grandson, a 2054 Chicago cop named Talon Avalon, is the hero of that series. His best friend is Harry McGlade the Third.
I may very well write about these characters forever...
Joe Konrath, February 2010
CONTENTS
On the Rocks - Suicide or murder? Lt. Jack Daniels solves a locked room mystery.
Whelp Wanted - P.I. Harry McGlade becomes a dognapper in order to stop a dognapper, or something like that.
Street Music - Phineas Troutt hunts a prostitute through the dangerous streets of Chicago. Are his intentions pure?
The One That Got Away - The Gingerbread Man (the villain from WHISKEY SOUR) hunts one final victim.
With a Twist - It looked like the man fell from a great height, but the body is in his living room. Jack Daniels solves another impossible crime.
Epitaph - Phin Troutt takes on a Chicago street gang with vengeance on his mind.
Taken to the Cleaners - Harry McGlade tries to solve a difficult mystery, but mostly just goofs off.
Body Shots - Jack Daniels faces her most challenging case yet; a school shooting. But does she know more about the perp than she realizes?
Suffer - Phineas Troutt has taken some questionable jobs, but will he murder a man's wife?
School Daze - P.I. Harry McGlade investigates a private school, but he's not entirely sure why.
Overproof - While shopping on the Gold Coast, Jack Daniels notices traffic has come to a stand-still. When she realizes what the problem is, she's confronted with her own mortality, and the possible deaths of hundreds.
Bereavement - How badly does Phineas Troutt need a fix? What is he willing to do?
Pot Shot - Detective Herb Benedict just wants a home cooked meal. But his plans get interrupted by a very determined sniper.
Last Request - Phineas Troutt picks up a hitchhiker, with deadly results.
The Necro File - Harry McGlade investigates some bizarre murders in this hilarious, gore-filled mini-epic. (Author's note: This is easily the funniest thing I've ever written, but it's also very offensive. Let the reader beware...)
On The Rocks
After landing my first three-book deal, I started writing short stories like crazy, trying to get my name out there. I always liked locked-room mysteries, and decided to do one featuring my newly published detective, Lt. Jacqueline “Jack” Daniels of the Chicago Police Department. Here, Jack takes a break from serial killers to solve a classic whodunnit. This sold to Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine, and was placed in their Department of First Stories, which thrilled me because I've been a fan of EQMM since childhood.
“She sure bled a lot.”
I ignored Officer Crouch, my attention focused on the dead woman's arm. The cut had almost severed her left wrist, a flash of pink bone peeking through. Her right hand was curled around the handle of a utility knife.
I'd been in Homicide for more than ten years, and still felt an emotional punch whenever I saw a body. The day I wasn't affected was the day I hung up my badge.
I wore disposable plastic booties over my flats because the shag carpet oozed blood like a sponge wherever I stepped. The apartment's air conditioning was set on freeze, so the decomposition wasn't as bad as it might have been after a week—but it was still pretty bad. I got down on my haunches and swatted away some blowflies.
On her upper arm, six inches above the wound, was a bruise.
“What's so interesting, Lieut? It's just a suicide.”
In my blazer pocket I had some latex gloves. I snapped them on.
The victim's name was Janet Hellerman, a real estate lawyer with a private practice. She was brunette, mid thirties, Caucasian. Her satin slip was mottled with drying brown stains, and she wore nothing underneath. I put my hand on her chin, gently turned her head.
There was another bruise on her cheek.
“Johnson's getting a statement from the super.”
I stood up, smoothed down my skirt, and nodded at Herb, who had just entered the room. Detective First Class Herb Benedict was my partner. He had a gray mustache, Basset hound jowls, and a Santa Claus belly. Herb kept on the perimeter of the blood puddle; those little plastic booties were too hard for him to get on.
“Johnson's story corroborates?”
Herb nodded. “Why? You see something?”
I did, but wasn't sure how it fit. Herb had questioned both Officer Crouch and Officer Johnson, and their stories were apparently identical.
Forty minutes ago they'd arrived at apartment 3008 at the request of the victim's mother, who lived out of state. She had been unable to get in touch with her daughter for more than a week. The building superintendent unlocked the door for them, but the safety chain was on, and a sofa had been pushed in front of the door to prevent anyone from getting inside. Crouch put his shoulder to it, broke in, and they discovered the body.
Herb squinted at the corpse. “How many marks on the wrist?”
“Just one cut, deep.”
I took off the blood-soaked booties, put them in one of the many plastic baggies I keep in my pockets, and went over to the picture window, which covered most of the far wall. The view was expensive, overlooking Lake Shore Drive from forty stories up. Boaters swarmed over the surface of Lake Michigan like little white ants, and the street was a gridlock of toy cars. Summer was a busy time for Chicagoans— criminals included.