Phil Hammer knew it would be a hard case as he took a long drag off his cigarette. His client, a middle-aged never was, wanted him to track down some dame in Canada to prove that she voted illegally. He pulled up his battered teal Chevy Nova to the curb of the house where she was supposed to live. He looked through the cracks in his windshield as the sky opened rain cascaded down and lightning flashed across the sky. Suddenly, the driver’s door flew open and he was yanked out of the Nova. A giant man with dark eyes and black hair, shaped more like a beer keg with legs, lifted him into the air with one arm/Joker, tongue firmly cheeked. More below.

Question: Which detective writer is your favorite? And/or: Favorite detective story?

Phil Hammer knew it would be a hard case as he took a long drag off his cigarette. His client, a middle-aged never was, wanted him to track down some dame in Canada to prove that she voted illegally.

He pulled up his battered teal Chevy Nova to the curb of the house where she was supposed to live. He looked through the cracks in his windshield as the sky opened rain cascaded down and lightning flashed across the sky.

Suddenly, the driver’s door flew open and he was yanked out of the Nova. A giant man with dark eyes and black hair, shaped more like a beer keg with legs, lifted him into the air with one arm. Then he threw a punch to Phil’s gut, and he let out a grunt as his stomach caved in. The giant punched him in face, denting Phil’s face. Then the giant tossed him against the Nova like a kid throws a baseball at his kid brother.

Then short pudgy man emerged from the shadows. He wore a black trench coat and fedora.
‘Hello, Phil,” he said. “I can see you’re sticking that nose into places you shouldn’t.’

Phil gasping for air, blood filling his mouth, spit out a snot and blood.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Phil said.

The giant put his size 18 boot into Phil’s neck. Phil couldn’t reach his .44 caliber, it was out of his shoulder holster, maybe on the front seat of the Nova. He'd taken out at cause the handle was rubbing him the wrong way. Now he wished he hadn't.

Phil’s head turned purple and blood poured out of his nose.
The pudgy man said, “Gino. That’s enough.’

Suddenly Phil could breathe again.
“Chicago Mike wants you to stay out of this case,” the pudgy man said. ‘He’s gonna stay on the city council and you’re gonna get the (bleep) out of here. Or Gino is gonna squeeze your head like a pimple on a 13-year-old kid.”

Phil gasped, “Ok, ok. It’s just a job man. I got no interest in this.”
The giant and the pudgy man disappeared into the rain. Phil heard a car start and they drove away.

Exhausted, Phil checked his teeth – they were all there.

Suddenly, the dame was standing over him. Her figure was incredible. Her blouse was wet and he could see all that God gave her. Her skin was golden and her blonde hair dripped with wetness.

“Are you Ok,” she said, her voice of sounded like a choir in heaven. “We need to get you inside.”

Moments later they were in her apartment. He could feel the
electricity between.
He asked her about “Chicago Mike and why those goons wanted him to stop asking questions.”
Monica said she had voted in the Coeur d’Alene city council election even though she knew it was against the law. She did it cause Chicago Mike was her old man’s boss. He threatened to fire her dad and promised he would. She believed him cause he got Jim Brannon fired from his job. Her old man didn't have much, she was worried, so she agreed to vote for Chicago Mike and promised never to speak of it.

Monica looked into Phil’s eyes and felt safe. She drawn to him like a moth to the flame. The two embraced and kissed passionately. They made love on the floor. The next morning, Phil woke up with a splitting headache and Monica was gone and the giant was sitting standing in the door grinning.