Blackie Noir Presents the Long and the Short of It...

Click to Read Review for Requiem...

Blacktop Styx:
A Novel of Savage Suspense
  and

Who Mourns for Maggie

By Blackie Noir


There something about Noir's stories that speak to me... It certainly is not the extreme violence--rather it is the justice, the payback--dare I say the revenge? At least for me, fiction gives me the satisfaction of feeling all those feelings, without the reality of acting for myself! LOL... There will never be a time for me that I would not be rooting for good to win over evil. Yes, I recognize that there can be some gray sometimes... But not if it's written by Blackie Noir! Once I had finished Blacktop Styx, I needed a little dessert...and finished with Who Mourns for Maggie! Both are very cool stories! Let me tell you about Blacktop Styx first...

They called him Jimmy Gee... He was alone now, but had received word that Inga, his ex-wife had sent him a message...He had a daughter! Her name was Peril... And she was in trouble!

Now the fact that the message was delivered by the man who had taken Inga away from him, or that he and his present girlfriend were dead before Jimmy left, is just part of that life...

He unzipped the other bag and pulled out a pint of Beam.

Breaking the seal with his thumbnail Jimmy removed the 

cap and took a long hit, gasped, then took another. Capping the

pint, he laid it flat on the battered dresser, and lit a Winston. 

Looking around, Jimmy figured this had probably been a nice

place, like maybe back in the 1940’ s.

As he smoked he walked around the room turning on the lamps. 

Shit, three lamps and they barely threw enough weak , yellow 

light to illuminate the dump. Cheap fuck probably had

forty watt bulbs in his old lamps. Jimmy looked, snorted, 

and shook his head. Wrong, they were twenty-fives.

The dim light revealed stained walls interspersed with cracks. 

There were three inexpensive prints hanging askew. 

Two were poorly done floral arrangements, but the third

was of Wyeth’s ‘Christina’s World’. T.I.’ s daughter Clarissa

had tried, with limited success, to introduce Jimmy to the 

joys of fine art in the years that Jimmy had looked after her,

while T.I. served out a nine year bit in the joint. ‘Christina’s 

World’ was one of the works that had never left him. 

Although Jimmy was surprised to see a print of it here,

he felt it somehow was a good fit...

Two hours later, Jimmy had worked his way through most

of his pint, and half a pack of Winstons. 

Inga had given him two addresses, one of her home

in Signal Hill, the other of a bar in Long Beach. 

Within minutes of one another, both places were less 

than two hours away from the desert crossroads 

where Jimmy sat, sat and brooded about Peril. 

As he drank and smoked Jimmy stared at

“Christina’s World.” Seeing the woman, half-sitting, 

half-laying in the partially mown field, staring

at the farmhouse in the distance, he felt he was

viewing his daughter. Mysterious, her demeanor, 

her body language, all so hard to fathom..."

~~~

http://arthistory.about.com/od/famous_

paintings/ss/andrew_wyeth_christinas_world.htm

Jimmy quickly contacted his two best friends, T.I. and Griz and filled them in on what he's just learned. T.I. and Mona had a daughter, Clarissa  who Jimmy had always been close to. Now he found he was happy to consider having a daughter who'd be just about Clarissa's age.

Inga had contacted him by letter, but when Jimmy had gone to visit her, both had acknowledged that there were still feelings. Jimmy later told Peril that they had talked about trying it again...

But now it was too late; Inga had been murdered...

And when Jimmy later saw her body, he immediately went after her killer, knowing he wouldn't have the time to spend with him and repay the torture... But at least he'd be dead!

Jimmy Gee did make one mistake, though, he trusted the wrong man...

Good thing none of his friends did...

Now, I do need to say something about Peril...

She is one bad-assed female. She grew up believing that her father was dead; Inga had given her a picture with Jimmy, T.I., and Griz, and Peril clearly could see that he looked like her father--had his "nose..." LOL So enamored with him, Peril had always chosen to try to mold her actions, based upon her perception of what Jimmy Gee would have done...

I won't try to describe her, except to highlight that her eye teeth were purple...LOL

To match her car...

Actually, I think she did a pretty good job of imagining, because when she finally met him, she wouldn't let him leave her...

Had to throw in this fun video. As I was writing earlier, a phrase came to mind that my brother used to use when we were small... He always liked the cowboy movies prevalent at that time and would want to watch the "shoot-em-up-bang-bang" movies.  Who knew that others must have like the phrase and even created a short version of what we meant! Loved It!

And you can bet that Blacktop Styx is a "shoot-em-up-bang-bang" story! It's a chase story, mostly, but there are clear lines between the good and bad guys, for the readers at least... but the faces presented by a number of the men should not be taken for granted, as will be discovered!

Sure, it had a happy ending...and quite satisfying to this reader in the justice, payback and revenge areas! LOL

http://blogs.kansascity.com/crime_scene/2007/02/homeless_woman_.html

Friday, February 16, 2007

Homeless woman burned to death in SF

Read more here: http://blogs.kansascity.com/crime_scene/2007/02/homeless_woman_.html#storylink=cpy

There really was a Maggie... It's hard to review a book when, upon seeking pictures to accompany, you find that a homeless woman had already suffered the exact atrocity as was described by the author... Her name wasn't Maggie, but it was clear that Blackie Noir was writing in honor of those like this woman who died in 2007!

Maggie is the main character in a short story about the murders of homeless men and women by burning them to death. We open to find Maggie, unwell, looking to steal some vodka from another...all she has to do is follow him until he passes out...

He fell one time, but got up...walked on, falling again but on the railroad tracks! Well, after she took everything she wanted off of his body, she did try to move him from the tracks, but only got him halfway off... She had tried... now he'd have to help himself! But before she was out of there, she heard the trail whistle...and she ran back, and with super-strength, got him off!

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Indiana_Rail_Road_train_coming_to_Bloomington_-_P1100038.JPG

She was half   a block away when she heard the train whistle. Shit. Go back? No fuckin way. Guy passed out on the tracks, whose fault was that? Not hers. Hey, she’d tried to move him. Damn near busted her back. Couldn’t be done. She’d done her part. Rest was up to God. Except for one thing. Maggie had this theory: sometimes God takes naps and bad shit happens. Was this such a time?

When the train sounded its whistle again, she stopped, turned, shrugged out of her back pack, dropped it to the ground. She could see the train’s headlight a half mile down the tracks, hauling ass. Could she cover half a block, faster than a speeding freight could cover half a mile? She didn’t know, but she’d sure as shit give it a good goddamn whirl.
Praying as she ran, she felt herself getting winded. Ignoring her pain, she ran harder, prayed harder still, then; her prayers were answered. Two thirds of her alcohol soaked, crystal-meth fueled, cigarette poisoned, years melted away, and she was seventeen and fleet again. Running with her daddy’s blue-tick hounds across the holler, getting stronger with every stride, knowing she could outrun the wind itself.
Fuck that train..."
~~~

When the veteran finally woke up, Maggie was still there...and they talked...

Another day came and Maggie was another homeless person murdered, burned...

Get this short story! The homeless deserve justice too! Highly recommended...and a special recognition to the homeless woman burned for her little bit of money on February 16, 2007...

GABixlerReviews

Biography

Decades ago Raymond Chandler taught me the only French word I know . . . 'noir.'

Ever since, I've been jonesing for dark, hard-boiled, pulp style, crime fiction. From the genre's original innovators: Chandler, Hammett , Cain . . . to today's neo-noir stalwarts: J. L. Burke, Connelly, Pelecanos, Leonard, Teran, Lehane, et al.

Call me voracious. I devoured their work. Inhaled the dark smoke permeated ambiance where it all played out.

I read, and continue to read, them all.

It was while reading the newcomers, the young turks, that I decided . . . reading was no longer enough. I had my own tales to tell. Characters that kept nagging at me, urging me, beseeching me, demanding that I bring them to the page. Those who have met them through my work know . . . these are not gentle folk. Their petitions aren't meant to be taken lightly. So, in an attempt to appease those raucous demons, I sat down in 2000 and began my first novel . . . "Freeway Pigeons."

I completed "Freeway Pigeons" in 2001. That was the opening of a mysterious and magical door. Just what was behind that door? Lady, or tiger? Funny, I'm still not certain. Still, I wouldn't change things. I'd cross that threshold again in a heartbeat . . . undaunted. And why not, I've been blessed with a cornucopia of encouragement.

Who encouraged me?

Every writer, genius or plodder . . . visionary or hack, who ever made me laugh or cry, rage or sigh, become more aware or escape the doldrums. Every scribe, word-weaver or poet who had my heart trying to bang its way out of my chest or sing with the angels.

All of them. Man or woman, fresh or ancient, who moved me emotionally. Entertained and educated me. Kept long and sometimes lonely vigils with me. Gave me the unmitigated joy of a good read. THEY encouraged me . . . every last one.

I owe them.

I believe the best way I can repay that debt is through you, you the readers.
If I can deliver the joy, the escape, the spiritual catharsis of the coveted 'good read' to you, then at least a part of my debt has been paid.
* * *

Standard bio stuff: Started life on the cold coast (N.Y.C.) wended my way west to the land of sunshine, surf, and strange (L.A.).

Interests: Books. Books! Books!! Books!!! BOOKS !!!!!

Other interests: Music (as played / sung by others). Movies. Physical activities (running, free-weights, hiking). BIKES! (Harleys & old-Triumphs).

Bottom line: Family. (what it's all about)

*

Blackie Noir Presents Noir Hard-Boiled Crime Novels!

http://forcg.com/articles/inspiration/47-
amazing-artworks-of-scary-and-deadly-skulls/

Requiem for the Widowmaker


By Blackie Noir


As soon as I read the author's name in my Facebook group, Reviewers Roundup, I decided I had to read his novel--nothing like publicizing the genre to the world and making sure they knew what to expect! I loved it, although I'd still kinda like to know his real name...LOL In the past, I've tried to get a handle on the noir, hard-boiled crime genre, but I was still not sure what it totally encompassed until I read Blackie's blog article about how he started writing. Turns out, I've been reading these authors myself! LOL

I wasn't quite sure who to call the main character--the Widowmaker? The cops chasing him?

"Eyeballing his attire, speaking in her own voice, Nadine says,   “Sure it’s not Johnny Vintage?” 

Slowly unfolding his lanky frame, Johnny Vance rises to loom over Nadine. Offering his knobby-knuckled hand, he says,     “I knew I was gonna like you --- partner.”     

Ignoring Vance’s hand, choosing to keep her gun hand tight around her revolver, she says,     

“You’re Detective Vancetti?” 

“Johnny Vance around the department. Detective Vancetti, that’s for citizens. What about you Kozok? You rude? Gonna leave my hand sticking out here like I’m panhandling?” 

“You’re Vancetti, how about you show me some ID.” 

“Fine.” Producing a battered leather badge wallet, similar to Nadine’s pristine version, he flips it open revealing his gold shield and ID card. 

“OK. I’ve been a little edgy lately,” Nadine says, “so I appreciate your doing that.” 

“Enough to shake my hand?” “Sure, but it’ll have to wait till I grab a shower. I’ve been out running, I’m wringing wet, my top, shorts, no place to even wipe my palm.” 

Vance grins,  “Don’t worry about it, but if you’ve got to have a shower, better make it a quick rinse. We’re pressed for time.” Looking at his watch, he says,     “I’ll give you fifteen minutes, then I’m out of here.”

“Excuse me? I don’t know what your hurry is, but I’m still off duty. Not due to report in till Monday. Tell you what Vance, I have no idea why you’re here or what you’re talking about, but you can take your fifteen minutes and leave without me. Go.” 

Dropping his cigarette butt to the walk, Vance says,     “Listen to me . . .” 

Livid, Nadine says,  “No. You listen to me. Fuck this shit. I come home from a kick-ass run, feeling great. Terrific way to start to my day. But no, what do I find on my doorstep? An aging Robert Loggia sprawled on my porch, covering my walkway with cigarette butts. Who the fuck you think cleans up around here, Mega Maid?”

“Look . . .” 

“No! You look. Fifteen minutes for a quick shower? The minute you introduce yourself  you start ordering me around? Where do you get off, pulling that kind of shit? Another thing . . .” 

Vance shouts his interruption, “Widowmaker!” 

Stunned, more by Vance’s volume than his words, Nadine’s mouth snaps shut. 

Pressing his advantage, Vance says, Sorry, but I had to get your attention. You’re gonna be a detective, first thing you need to learn is to shut up and listen. Work with me here, two minutes that’s all I’m asking. Now, you do know that we’re gonna be partners?” 

“Sheba Johnstone told me. She also said you could be difficult.” 

“Two minutes, remember? Silent, Nadine nods. 

Vance continues, “Sheba tell you Butch Ritter assigned you to her Widowmaker task force?” 

“Yes.” 

Vance grins, Now, I understand that you’re not due in till Monday. Hell, I’m supposed to have the weekend off too.” 

Nadine shrugs, So?” 

“So, our friend the Widowmaker doesn’t give a rat’s ass about your leave, or my weekend.” 

“What’re you saying?” 

“I’m saying there are three dead scumbags in the parking lot of a dive called JuicyTown on Pacific Coast Highway. Two of the mutts took small caliber shots to the temple.”

“Two victims? At once? That’s not his MO.” 

“Right. Could be he’s getting greedy. Could be it’s not his work. I don’t know.” 

Frowning, Nadine says,  “You said there was a third body. What about him?” 

“Two shots to the face. Bigger bore weapon. Definitely not the Widowmaker’s style.” 

“Yeah, but this third guy? Maybe he’s the Widowmaker."

“Possible. Tell you one thing.” 

“What?” 

“Faster you get your ass in gear, the faster we can get down there, start putting things together, get some answers. Now, you with me?” 

“Ten minutes. Partner.”

~~~

Of course that was easy for me since I always enjoy a strong female character and Nadine surely met that as can be seen above when she was first meeting her new partner. Before that, she had recently been promoted for chasing and ultimately killing a man who turned out to be wanted for a number of murders. Nadine became a hero and that chase scene, of course filmed in some way, went virile (if they had that capability during  the time Nadine lived)...

Her boss had watched the chase over and over, deciding how he should reward her. In the meantime, another strong woman who was heading up a Task Force to catch the Widowmaker thought Nadine would make a good addition to her team. Along with Nadine, she also got Johnny Vance, who she was not happy about, since he had once refused to partner with her--I'll let you find out why when you read it!

Actually Nadine and Vance made a great team and I wish the novel had not ended as it did...so that we could enjoy them in the future...

The Widowmaker had mellowed from his old days when he'd been given the moniker Icepick, but a somewhat traumatic event for him had affected him so that he'd become more selective with his kills--choosing to rid the world of those men who, like the man who'd killed his lover, beat up, abused and threw women away routinely.

In fact, he had been on the way to kill a local bar owner, when he coincidentally found two men beating up on one of the dancers there. He had killed both of those men, who had already killed his original victim...and then decided to let the dancer go--was he making his first mistake?

Nadine and Vance hooked up at the scene with Vance's old partner and went on to verify that there were two guns that had killed the duo, who, of course, were also wanted criminals. The second had been the .22 caliber that was the signature gun for the Widowmaker...

But now they thought they had a lead, a witness, because as they analyzed the scene, it was clear that the dancer had gotten away!

And so the hunt begins...

But there is an often humorous concurrent story line about Nadine's family who had adopted her many years ago and had treated her as their own. I enjoyed a family barbecue scene where Nadine brought a movie star who had approached her after seeing "the chase scene" and how the family and he interacted. Let's just say that this family didn't accept phonies...LOL

Will you guess how this book ends, as I did? For me, it was the perfect ending; but I admit that you and others might totally disagree! Like I said earlier, I would have preferred that Nadine and Vance stayed on the job, but, hey, they went out with a bang... Highly recommended! Enjoy!

GABixlerReviews

Go find out More About Blackie and Start Following His Blog...Maybe he'll write more short stories for us!