JB Kohl and Eric Beetner
Noir Mystery
978-1935171324
268 pages
About
Kansas City, 1939
In a world of fixed fights and mob influence Ray Ward and his brother Rex are two of the only clean fighters in town. With Ray in the corner and Rex in the ring they are headed for the big time. Until that fateful night. Now Ray has a score to settle using a lifetime of lessons in how to fight back.
Dean Fokoli is a detective with a new partner, an alcoholic wife and a guilty conscience. At least the boxer on the radio who just got beat to a pulp won’t end up in his homicide file. But when the dregs of the crooked fight world start turning up dead, Fokoli is on the hunt for the killer. The chase will take him to the underbelly of the Kansas City night and hopefully keep him one step ahead of his past.
Reviews
“One Too Many Blows to the Head, feels like a long-lost pulp you find in a favorite bookstore. A delicious mix of classic hardboiled grit and the heart-heavy world of film noir, it’s a one-sitting read that sends you back to a lost time of fight halls. Chicago boys and last chances.”-Megan Abbott, author of Bury Me Deep and Queenpin
“Boxing and noir once went hand in glove, but you don’t see many boxing novels anymore, ant that’s a shame. Here’s one that dredges up all the blood and spit and sweat and money of the fight game, and wraps it around a tough noir storyline full of revenge and dark secrets. Kohl and Beetner get it exactly right.”-Steve Brewer, author of Cutthroat
“Razor sharp debut from noir partnership Beetner and Kohl. From its first savage punch, a dark world of organised crime and boxing grips and refuses to let you go. Highly recommended.”-Nick Quantrill, author of Broken Dreams
Excerpt
Ray was a hard cord of a man, with muscles coiled tight enough to fire bullets without a gun if needed. His hands were cuffed together and rested on the table in front of him. Like the cuffs would do me and Bob any good if Ray decided to pounce.
Bob wiped the sweat off his forehead when he saw me and led me over to the corner to tell me what he’d got so far . . . which wasn’t much. “Says he was there looking for a girl.”
“Whore?”
Bob nodded.
I moved back over to the table and told Ray I was sorry about his brother—and that was the truth. I was sorry about a lot of things and his brother’s death was just one more on the list. “Let’s talk about what you were really doing in Negrotown.”
His fists clenched a little when I said that, the tendons of his wrists straining against the metal of the cuffs. “Get those off him, Bob,” I said.
Bob looked like he wanted to argue, but he took the cuffs off and stepped back, like maybe he’d let a tiger out of the cage or something. Ray just nodded and sat there, not giving in to the urge to rub the raw spots.
“You want a cigarette?” I asked.
“Don’t smoke.”
I shrugged. “So how about it? What were you doing there?”
“What makes you think I’m lying about the girl?”
“I think you’ve been too busy to think about girls.”
He was silent.
“Tell me about the fight.”
ONE TOO MANY BLOWS TO THE HEAD
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