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    Bullets for Coffins
    Bullets for Coffins
    Bullets for Coffins
    Ebook85 pages1 hour

    Bullets for Coffins

    By Whit Howland

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Huey Dusk is a clown, but he's no joke. In this caper he searches for the murderer of a beloved televangelist and ends up uncovering a conspiracy involving money, greed, government intrigue and a deadly dwarf clown assassin.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherUntreed Reads
    Release dateAug 21, 2013
    ISBN9781611876079
    Bullets for Coffins

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      Book preview

      Bullets for Coffins - Whit Howland

      Ten

      Bullets for Coffins: A Huey Dusk Caper

      By Whit Howland

      Copyright 2013 by Whit Howland

      Cover Copyright 2013 by Ginny Glass and Untreed Reads Publishing

      The author is hereby established as the sole holder of the copyright. Either the publisher (Untreed Reads) or author may enforce copyrights to the fullest extent.

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold, reproduced or transmitted by any means in any form or given away to other people without specific permission from the author and/or publisher. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to the living or dead is entirely coincidental.

      Also by Whit Howland and Untreed Reads Publishing

      Huey Dusk

      The Case of the Sad Luck Dame

      www.untreedreads.com

      Bullets for Coffins: A Huey Dusk Caper

      Whit Howland

      Chapter One

      A purple Caddy sharked its way down the wet boulevard. The car paused briefly at the mouth of an alley. Spitting fire from its tailpipe, it let out a big boom. Then it scuffed its tires and resumed trawling the city street, hugging the curb as it went.

      Huey Dusk, a clown, wore a ten-gallon porkpie hat, which covered a balding pate with bright green fuzzy hair. He also wore a greasy buckskin jacket; and under that, a velvet, burgundy shirt. A big gold cross hung around his neck and rested on top of his oversized polka-dotted tie.

      He bobbed his head, keeping time with the scraping wiper blades. Peering through the windshield, he scanned the sidewalk.

      He was on the hunt for Otis Beckwith. Otis had the gambling fever and couldn’t pay his debts. He needed to be taught a lesson. This meant a nice payday for Dusk, but so far, his efforts were in vain.

      He shook his head, rubbed his eyes and thought about getting out of the rain. He gunned the motor and kicked the car into gear. Just then, in his peripheral vision, he saw a lanky man wearing a jumpsuit, running shoes and a leather flight helmet. The man had popped up from behind a battered garbage can, then ran in the opposite direction down the sidewalk.

      The clown let out a war whoop and threw the car into reverse. Beckwith huffed and looked over his shoulder at the backside of the Caddy as it barreled toward him. He turned his head and ran faster.

      When Dusk caught up to the man, he pulled out a skinny cigar with a frayed tip, jammed it between his teeth and rolled down the window. He stuck his head out and cackled as he watched Otis run for his life.

      Keep those knees up, Otis!

      Otis turned and looked at him, then ran into an alley. Dusk made a sharp turn, stepped on the gas and backed down the narrow passageway. He punched the brakes when he saw the oncoming brick wall as well as Otis surrounded by five young men. The car skidded to a halt.

      The young toughs—dressed like Otis—wielded knives, blackjacks and lead pipes. They shuffled toward the car. They stopped when they heard the car’s lock click open and formed a half circle a couple of feet from the Caddy’s trunk.

      The car door opened and the clown stepped out. Otis and his friends snarled as he stepped toward them.

      Talk trash now, circus boy! Otis sneered.

      Dusk grinned and pulled a gold metal lighter from his pocket. He flipped open the top and fired up his stogie. When the flames at the tip of the cigar petered out, he puffed and exhaled a long blue stream of smoke in the gang’s direction.

      Circus boy, he said. Haven’t heard that one before.

      And there’s a good chance you won’t hear it again! said one of the thugs as he smacked a lead pipe against his palm. Dusk laughed, took another puff of his cigar and let it drop at his foot. He stamped it out with his snakeskin clown shoe.

      Get him, boys! the hood growled as he stepped toward the clown and wound up, swinging for his head. Huey ducked and slugged the man in the gut. He broke and shattered the shin of another assailant, who tried to flank him.

      The first punk bent over and puked on the sidewalk. Dusk stepped around the vomit and yanked the pipe out of his hand. He swung it at the head of a third assailant, who charged him with a knife while trying to grab Huey around the neck. Dusk broke his jaw.

      Dusk swooped in to finish off the second goon. The thug snapped his head back and gulped when the piece of lead hit him in the mouth. Through the gap in his front teeth, he spat a stream of blood on the ground next to the clown’s feet.

      A fourth cutthroat, with a face like a dog, dove at him from the front of the car. Huey side-stepped him and let the thug fall to the ground. The street tough jumped up and screeched as he attempted a flying kick, aiming for the clown’s head. Dusk jammed the pipe into the gangster’s groin. The man dropped and flopped around on the pavement.

      Dusk turned to the last assailant standing who swung a chain over his head and grinned. He swung it at the clown. Huey grabbed and clenched the chain in his fist. With a flick of his wrist, he jerked the goon toward him. Before they collided, Dusk held up the pipe and watched as it crashed into the man’s throat. The hoodlum gasped and wheezed, then fell to the street with a thud and a jingle. Change spilled out of his pockets.

      Stepping over him, the clown looked around and

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