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Something I'm fooling around with...

Looking for a bit of hard-boiled sci-fi. Partly, I'm trying to work with a characteristic that I'm calling "voice" -- the impression should be that the character is telling his own story in his own words.
Let me know if that seems to work.
********* ********* ********* ***********
The Tragedy of Merlot
(c) 2018 by Cliff Robison
I hate Merlot. Not the wine. Well, I don’t like wine either. I’m more of a whiskey kind of a guy, or if you don’t have whiskey, beer will do fine. Simple tastes for a simple mind.
I admit it. I’m not a smart guy. Not like Merlot. Merlot’s some kind of genius, some Einstein or something. I guess I can’t complain about that, since it’s how a big dumb guy like me made Lieutenant. Still, I hate that guy.
Maybe hate’s a strong word. Geez. What do I know?
Here’s the thing: Some case comes in and nobody’s got nothing on it. I give Merlot, near as we can figure, the time and place. He comes back to me with a photo of the guy who did it. Just like that. Sometimes he even gives me a video.
What the hell, right?
But here’s the thing: He always tells me, “This isn’t evidence. You can’t take this to court, cause you can’t prove where you got it.” Only he says it nicer.
I told him I’d subpoena his butt into a witness chair or die trying. He says it wouldn’t matter. He can’t prove that he took the picture, so the case would get thrown out. I say, hey, the picture proves you took the picture. He says to ask an ADA about that.
And besides, if I ever screw him over, he stops helping me. I know a good thing when I see it. I’m not gonna goose the duck with the golden eggs, you know?
Anyway, who’s the schmuck that has to compare 20,000 mugshots, and tell the brass I got a hunch that it’s this guy here, and then go shake him till he gives it up? Well, until I made Lieutenant, it was me. Now, I tell the Sergeant that we got an anonymous tip that it was this guy here, or that the murder weapon’s in a tree by the park, and the sergeant sends somebody to check out my hunch.
Captain thinks I’ve got a bunch of C.I.’s out there, sweeping the streets for dirt. He wonders if I’m a little dirty, and if I’m playing both sides. I tell him I’m not smart enough for that. He knows it’s true.
Anyway, I was down at that little pub on Gabilan Street. The one that used to be English and then turned into a sports bar. Yeah, went from trivia nights and stout beer to football and American lager. You know the one.
Merlot came in with a woman. That, I expected. Problem is, I knew this woman. She used to be married to a meth cook out in Prunedale. And way back in high school, I used to date her sister.
“Evening, Glennis,” I said, before Chris had a chance to introduce us. “How’s tricks?”
**************************
Let me know if that seems to work.
********* ********* ********* ***********
The Tragedy of Merlot
(c) 2018 by Cliff Robison
I hate Merlot. Not the wine. Well, I don’t like wine either. I’m more of a whiskey kind of a guy, or if you don’t have whiskey, beer will do fine. Simple tastes for a simple mind.
I admit it. I’m not a smart guy. Not like Merlot. Merlot’s some kind of genius, some Einstein or something. I guess I can’t complain about that, since it’s how a big dumb guy like me made Lieutenant. Still, I hate that guy.
Maybe hate’s a strong word. Geez. What do I know?
Here’s the thing: Some case comes in and nobody’s got nothing on it. I give Merlot, near as we can figure, the time and place. He comes back to me with a photo of the guy who did it. Just like that. Sometimes he even gives me a video.
What the hell, right?
But here’s the thing: He always tells me, “This isn’t evidence. You can’t take this to court, cause you can’t prove where you got it.” Only he says it nicer.
I told him I’d subpoena his butt into a witness chair or die trying. He says it wouldn’t matter. He can’t prove that he took the picture, so the case would get thrown out. I say, hey, the picture proves you took the picture. He says to ask an ADA about that.
And besides, if I ever screw him over, he stops helping me. I know a good thing when I see it. I’m not gonna goose the duck with the golden eggs, you know?
Anyway, who’s the schmuck that has to compare 20,000 mugshots, and tell the brass I got a hunch that it’s this guy here, and then go shake him till he gives it up? Well, until I made Lieutenant, it was me. Now, I tell the Sergeant that we got an anonymous tip that it was this guy here, or that the murder weapon’s in a tree by the park, and the sergeant sends somebody to check out my hunch.
Captain thinks I’ve got a bunch of C.I.’s out there, sweeping the streets for dirt. He wonders if I’m a little dirty, and if I’m playing both sides. I tell him I’m not smart enough for that. He knows it’s true.
Anyway, I was down at that little pub on Gabilan Street. The one that used to be English and then turned into a sports bar. Yeah, went from trivia nights and stout beer to football and American lager. You know the one.
Merlot came in with a woman. That, I expected. Problem is, I knew this woman. She used to be married to a meth cook out in Prunedale. And way back in high school, I used to date her sister.
“Evening, Glennis,” I said, before Chris had a chance to introduce us. “How’s tricks?”
**************************
1
Comments
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If Chris is Merlot's first name, you might use the full name earlier to avoid confusing people.
While I know what a CI [Confidential Informant] and an ADA [Assistant District Attorney] are, others may not. It's kind of like S-2 and G-2 [relating to military intelligence] or 1N3 [military interpretor], to people in the line of work or familiar with same it's obvious, while baffling to an outsider.
I agree with Ron, set the scene a bit more. Once you've done that it will pull the reader into the world you've created.
R.F.G. Cameron a.k.a. Sphinx
My work can be found at:
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https://antiquasphinge.wixsite.com/booksGreat thoughts and dead on. I might change ADA to lawyer, maybe spell out confidential informant, and make "big dumb guy like me" into "big dumb cop like me" to clarify that he's got a badge. That should give it a context. I can wait on calling him Chris until after he's dead (sorry, spoiler).
It just kind of hit me that there a lot of "Smart Cops" who solve crimes by having a 200 IQ and being able to read minds, so maybe going the other direction might work. Had another scene pop into my head a few minutes ago... I might try to work this into a short story and if I like how it comes out, shop it around to some magazines.
Thanks!
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As well, in the societal aspect a high IQ is no guarantor of success, as far too often such individuals are viewed with distrust, meaning tolerance toward them is limited. Consider that often enough a supervisor or manager of just over average intellect will stonewall the advancement of a subordinate who is appreciably smarter due to the idea the subordinate will one day take their job or simply because they just can't relate with how that subordinate's mind works.
Perhaps that will help you set Merlot more in context.
R.F.G. Cameron a.k.a. Sphinx
My work can be found at:
http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/antiqua_sphingehttps://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00DDZJOT2
https://antiquasphinge.wixsite.com/booksOn the other hand, it was interesting to watch him watch Jeopardy: He knew all the answers. All of them. Every single one. I haven't seen him lately; he encountered an issue that caused him to abandon his life and start a new one (same identity, but new surroundings) on the other side of town. And he took up knitting. But we digress.
The thing about this story... I was reading about Christopher "Kit" Marlowe, an associate of Shakespeare who would have been remembered as an even greater genius, except that he got knifed in a bar fight. "The Reckoning," they call it, because it might have been a dispute over his bill...
He was said to have been a police informant, but also a frequent arrestee, and prone to starting bar fights in whorehouses. Secret agent, but arrested on a secret warrant. Very colorful character. So part of my plan was to drag him into the present day, give him a science-fiction device that lets him see past events (with limits), and then have him die in a bar fight. This leaves the policeman who depends on his tips to solve the murder.
Twisting Marlowe to Merlot is a bit of slight of hand.
Plowing too deep, maybe? But then again, the actual stories about Marlowe are just too good to leave them alone. They beg for stories to be written. But then once more, there are too many smart detectives ... Hence my slower model.
So maybe I'll do something with it. Or maybe I'll bury it in the sock drawer and see what it looks like a year from now. It feels like it has potential, but all stories feel like that in the beginning... Yeah, so... We'll see...
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The thing about intelligence is sometimes you find the sports, who are just below genius level while being 'scary smart'. Neither a sociopath nor a psychopath, but easily capable of disassociating in a predatory way in order to commit violence sans remorse while leaving little in the way of evidence.
Perhaps your Merlot runs into someone not quite as smart as he but far deadlier?
R.F.G. Cameron a.k.a. Sphinx
My work can be found at:
http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/antiqua_sphingehttps://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00DDZJOT2
https://antiquasphinge.wixsite.com/bookshttp://www.lulu.com/spotlight/kevinlomas
I do agree with the sentiment that we could use more scenery. I would say specifically this could be helpful in further understanding our narrator too - the way he sees a street corner or his office might reveal more of his "big dumb cop" mentality.
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Black Cat Studios http://www.black-cat-studios.com/
My Books:
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And of course there are the ones who pretend to be stupid. Colombo for example.
There's also the great Vimes in the Discworld books, who people make the mistake of thinking he is stupid, because he came from a 'poor' background, and at times acts stupid (just a slow mind, really) and stereotypically, starts off as a drunkard.
http://discworld.wikia.com/wiki/Samuel_Vimes
BTW. Was Del Shannon not a singer?
http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/kevinlomas
My Books:
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http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/kevinlomas
Both names were pseudonyms.
My Books:
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http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/kevinlomas
I might have been able to go Novel length with Lt. Elton Earl Licowicz, here, but I found that around 20,000 the voice was fading and the story seemed to be headed for its natural end. I always try not to force the story longer or cut it short -- It always winds up looking like the characters stayed at the Procrustes Inn and Suites.
Moral of the story: I just offered it to a magazine as a novella (they wanted 25,000 to 50,000 words and an option for book rights if accepted. Apparently they publish paperbacks with 3-4 novellas each as well as the magazine proper). If they decline and no other takers appear, I'll probably save it till I have two or three more pieces of about the same length, and then make my own three-novella book.
The cover email (as per submission standards) goes like this:
Hello, Editors.
I propose to submit a novella of about 26,000 words regarding a loner police lieutenant, with a 92 IQ and a love for alcohol, who finds things going very badly. It starts when his chief informant shows up to a meet with the sister of his old ex. It gets worse when the informant dies violently, and the ex's sister shows up in the lieutenant's trunk. As his friends start to doubt his story and his sources of information start to dry up, he finds himself on a one-way path to the low tide mark, wearing concrete waders.
Length tends to vary during the buff and polish, so the completed length may be slightly over or under 26,000, but will definitely be within the 25,000 to 30,000 range. The attached sample should give you the general flavor and style of the story.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Cliff Robison
So, I'll give you a further update in 8-12 weeks...
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Ninja Mind: Ninjutsu Training for Danger Prevention
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