Blood Red Blues

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Generally, Dutch found nothing tangible. He always found pieces. Pieces of a fucked-up puzzle, he liked to say. Nearing retirement, he realised, in spite of the enormous amount of a pieces he had collected, he would never finish the puzzle. He was beginning to humbly accept his final call to duty, and lay down his arms. Generally, Dutch found nothing tangible. He always found pieces. Pieces of a fucked-up puzzle, he liked to say. Nearing retirement, he realised, in spite of the enormous amount of a pieces he had collected, he would never finish the puzzle. He was beginning to humbly accept his final call to duty, and lay down his arms.
-The guys on the crew watched him approach the body. Dutch felt their pitiful fucking eyes on him. Fuck em fuck em fuck em, he thought. Go out in style my friend he said to himself. Dutch bent before the body. He wiped his eyes. Was he capable? There was, nevertheless, something intriguing about this particular set-up. He liked to think so in any case. He examined futher the victim. The body had been shot in the temple, a suicide, but there was no gun. Looking closely he all of a sudden saw the letters scratched out on the cheek: AA. Dutch staggered backward. Something clearly was too personal about the matter. +The [[guys on the crew]] watched him approach the body. Dutch felt their pitiful fucking eyes on him. Fuck em fuck em fuck em, he thought. Go out in style my friend he said to himself. Dutch bent before the body. He wiped his eyes. Was he capable? There was, nevertheless, something intriguing about this particular set-up. He liked to think so in any case. He examined futher the victim. The body had been shot in the temple, a suicide, but there was no gun. Looking closely he all of a sudden saw the letters scratched out on the cheek: AA. Dutch staggered backward. Something clearly was too personal about the matter.
His mind flashed back to his [[Dutch Forkes|childhood]] days. ''(p.5)'' His mind flashed back to his [[Dutch Forkes|childhood]] days. ''(p.5)''

Revision as of 15:41, 26 Mar 2005

Cover of the rare first printing by Dell, thought to have been illustrated by .
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Cover of the rare first printing by Dell, thought to have been illustrated by Raymond Unger.

Stimes Addisson's second Dutch Forkes novel. Dutch is in a self-defeating spiral after his last misadventure. In the end, we don't know if he dies or flees to Honduras. Some have speculated that this novel reveals the true story behind Stimes' father's strange adventures. His father, Hyram Solomon Addisson, disappeared, never be heard of again, when Stimes was 12.

The plot revolves around a complicated scheme in which one Wilma Wiggins seeks revenge for the murder of her father, a sausage tycoon. Although the vicious thug Bumbles Thatchett is killed by Wilma, his boss, nemesis Dr. Jules Sarkozy, kills her, and puts the screws to Forkes so bad he disappears.

Table of contents

1 STIMES' PUZZLE

2 See Also

Excerpted


STIMES' PUZZLE

A starry sky lingered when Dutch arrived on the scene. The air was thick when he stepped out of the Caddie and looked at the body. He'd been there before and this rap looked no different. Hell, he thought to himself, might as well put that rookie, what's his name, on the case. He walked toward the body to take a good look as he always did. It was important to look at the face. The expression before death. The history within that expression, the lies and the truth; the untold stories. He looked for those clues.

Generally, Dutch found nothing tangible. He always found pieces. Pieces of a fucked-up puzzle, he liked to say. Nearing retirement, he realised, in spite of the enormous amount of a pieces he had collected, he would never finish the puzzle. He was beginning to humbly accept his final call to duty, and lay down his arms.

The guys on the crew watched him approach the body. Dutch felt their pitiful fucking eyes on him. Fuck em fuck em fuck em, he thought. Go out in style my friend he said to himself. Dutch bent before the body. He wiped his eyes. Was he capable? There was, nevertheless, something intriguing about this particular set-up. He liked to think so in any case. He examined futher the victim. The body had been shot in the temple, a suicide, but there was no gun. Looking closely he all of a sudden saw the letters scratched out on the cheek: AA. Dutch staggered backward. Something clearly was too personal about the matter.

His mind flashed back to his childhood days. (p.5)


"It's not that I'm a good shot at all it's just that in my business missing is an occupational hazard I tend to avoid." (p.35)


"He was Hungarian, but that's not what bothered me." (p.120)

Non-Canonical Text


Her gams ate my mom's meatloaf -- who knows what would happen if we shacked up.

See Also