How Do I Get to Mount Julep?

by Ken Derry

About the Author: Ken Derry's fiction credits include HAD, Danse Macabre, and The Carolina Quarterly.

Excerpt

I had been trying to find my way out of the business and for a week or so I wondered if my ship had come in, but then one hot morning I got the call I had come to dread. On the other end was a woman I didn’t know speaking on behalf of my new employer, someone I knew only as Big Puss, sibling of the slain Fancy Mike. See, last week my former boss Fancy Mike was murdered. I was his security. My hope was that a change in leadership would facilitate a new business model that would allow me to, you know, show myself out. But you know how family businesses go. Meet the new boss, same as the old boss. By the end of the call, I had my answer in the form of a name, an address, and a task: Find out who killed Fancy Mike—and bury him.

This was a job for a younger buck. Me, I’m old. I got a compressed disc in my upper spine, a knee that clicks, and a list of other mystery ailments that only the middle aged can identify. No workman’s comp claims to be filed here. Just the telltale signs of a guy past his prime.

See, Fancy Mike was the man, and I was his protection. But a bubble slipped into the vein, snaked to the brain and burst. Not like I let it happen, but happen it did and the buck stops with me. This was my mess. My job was to find out who the bubble was—better yet, where the bubble came from. Then squeeze that thing till it popped.

Still, I was shook. You want to get the guy who took out the largest credit card scamming ring in the county? You need real muscle. Best I can do is consult.

And yet.

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