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    Smith's Monthly #58: Smith's Monthly, #58
    Smith's Monthly #58: Smith's Monthly, #58
    Smith's Monthly #58: Smith's Monthly, #58
    Ebook243 pages3 hours

    Smith's Monthly #58: Smith's Monthly, #58

    By WMG Publishing

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    About this ebook

    This 58th issue of Smith's Monthly contains more than fifty thousand words of original fiction from USA Today bestselling writer Dean Wesley Smith, including a new short novel, Big Eyes, in his Pakhet Jones series about the superhero for cats, and four new short stories from some of his most popular series; Marble Grant, Bryant Street, Sky Tate, and Thunder Mountain.

    Also included is The Case of Pilgrim Hugh: Five Strange Detective Short Stories, from Dean's series about the always weird cases that private detective Pilgrim Hugh takes one.

    Settle in for some great reading!

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherWMG Publishing
    Release dateFeb 24, 2022
    ISBN9798201792794
    Smith's Monthly #58: Smith's Monthly, #58

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      Book preview

      Smith's Monthly #58 - WMG Publishing

      Smith’s Monthly Issue #58

      SMITH’S MONTHLY ISSUE #58

      DEAN WESLEY SMITH

      WMG Publishing, Inc.

      CONTENTS

      Introduction

      The Birth Of A Superhero

      Introduction

      The Birth Of A Superhero

      Debbie Does The Desert

      Introduction

      Debbie Does The Desert

      The Case of Pilgrim Hugh

      Introduction

      Introduction

      The Case of the Intrusive Furniture

      Introduction

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      The Case of the Dog Bit Arm

      Introduction

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      The Case of the Lost Treasure

      Introduction

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      The Case of the Man Who Saw

      Introduction

      The Case of the Man Who Saw

      The Case of the Dead Lady Blues

      Introduction

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Kill for a Statistic

      Introduction

      Kill for a Statistic

      Blue Finds a Home

      Introduction

      Blue Finds a Home

      Big Eyes

      Introduction

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Chapter 20

      Subscribe to Smith’s Monthly!

      Newsletter sign-up

      About the Author

      INTRODUCTION

      Introduction to Issue #58

      ANOTHER CHALLENGE

      I have been known, over the decades, to really push myself with writing challenges. And with publishing challenges. I love them, in fact. And as this volume hits print in late February of 2022, I am solidly into the new challenge of writing one short story a day for the entire year.

      Last year, in my 70 th year on the planet, from November 2020 to November 2021, I published seventy major books on a challenge. That’s right…seventy. Plus fifty-eight short stories on top of the seventy books.

      So writing a short story a day for a year doesn’t seem so crazy, unless you really stop and think about it.

      If I hit it, that will be 365 new and original short stories. And I am still writing novels and novellas at times.

      Yeah, just like doing this magazine every month proves, I am that crazy.

      But I am having fun and with writing, that is what counts.

      I will also, for the first time in almost a decade, be submitting stories again to other major magazines. Yes, I will be writing far more short stories this year than I can publish in this magazine for years.

      For the last decade I tended to write about fifty short stories a year, so all of them were needed in these pages. So I couldn’t submit stories to other editors unless it was an invite that I wrote for them directly.

      Now, since I will write far, far more than fifty stories this year, I can submit to the regular magazines.

      Of course, if I have my way, every story I write this year will eventually end up in these pages, but at four or five short stories an issue, that will take me between five and six years.

      Yeah, just do the math.

      So as you can tell, I plan to keep this magazine going into the future. And I am now giving each issue to certain levels on my Patreon again. And putting all the raw stories up there as well for people to read basically my finished drafts, which are my first drafts, since I don’t rewrite anything.

      So I do hope you pass the word about this magazine, all the fiction, all the craziness. After a year now of the restart with twelve issues in twelve months, all on time, I am ready to start to spread the word about this magazine. I hope you will all help me.

      Thanks!

      —Dean Wesley Smith

      February 2022

      INTRODUCTION

      Poker Boy finds himself facing a possible future superhero in the world of poker. And Stan gave Poker Boy the task of telling the new kid what he would be.

      A tightrope of a story. How do you tell someone their life just changed? And everything you thought you knew about the world seemed now wrong?

      Carefully, Poker Boy figured.

      A fun new Poker Boy story showing a glimpse of how superheroes become superheroes..

      THE BIRTH OF A SUPERHERO

      A Poker Boy Story

      Janice Everly, aka Ace, sat in the eighth spot at the table, right on the end, her back to the door. She didn’t see me come into the poker room, which was probably for the better. But I had a hunch she sensed that I was here, even though she wouldn’t know what she was sensing exactly.

      I would have sensed that she was here, known someone of power was close.

      She was dressed in a light sweatshirt of some type without writing on it and jeans and running shoes. She had a freshwater pearl necklace on top of the sweatshirt and matching earrings.

      She looked in shape, like a runner. She had long brown hair that swept away from her face and back over her collar and bright green eyes that didn’t miss much.

      She was stunning, even dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans.

      I had a hunch she didn’t miss on a lot of men, either. Or women, if she went that way. She had classic good looks and a nice smile.

      She wasn’t in a hand, but was watching the play of two others at the end of the table. One was a local pro, a solid player, a grinder, who made enough money to live by playing low-stakes games for lots and lots of hours, basically earning minimum wage. The other guy was clearly a tourist, more than likely just stopping for a few hours on the way to the coast.

      The grinder took his chips and Ace nodded to herself.

      Five tables had games going on, pretty busy for a weekday afternoon in the Oregon Mountains. Spirit Winds Casino for the longest time had been my home casino. It had a mountain cabin feel to the decor, only with bright lights and slot machines.

      Polished and huge log beams towered over the casino floor and fake pine trees sprouted at places in corners. The walls looked like they were pine boards with knots and everything, but on closer look it was just a fake tile of some sort. All the colors in the place were earth tones and greens, even the patterned carpet.

      The poker room also had the mountain décor, only with lower ceilings, televisions on every wall, and comfortable brown leather chairs for the players. The felt on each table was a bright green, matching no color I had ever seen in nature.

      The poker room was good-sized at twelve tables and in certain tournaments they used all twelve.

      It was a good room, run by good people, but I just wasn’t here much these days since I lived with my girlfriend Patty Ledgerwood in her condo in Vegas. However, we were building a massive home not far from here on twenty acres in the mountains. It had actually been under construction now for a good ten years and was looking wonderful.

      Over the years the construction had just seemed to take on a life of its own and now was past ten thousand square feet with a massive pool and hot tub looking out over the mountain valley below. Patty and I planned on using it as a getaway, but nothing more. We both loved Vegas.

      So building that monster might be the most stupid thing I had ever done, and with my history, that was saying something.

      Last year Patty had finally gotten me to have hauled away and destroyed a double-wide old manufactured home. I used to live in it about a mile up the highway. Can’t say I missed the place. But I lived there before I could teleport and since I was never home, it had served its purpose for my first years as a poker superhero.

      I ate a lot of TV dinners in that place, let me tell you. I don’t miss those, either.

      Ace, as all her friends called her, and she had friends, which was a good sign, seemed to be a good person from what I had found out about her. Stan, my boss, friend, and the God of Poker, said she was a developing superhero in her early days. Ace didn’t know that yet, either.

      Took me years before Stan appeared one day and talked to me about the weird powers I seemed to be developing. Things like having almost a Spidey-sense for danger, being able to calm people down, being able to really read people and their emotions.

      The teleportation and stopping time nifty powers wouldn’t come for a few years. But those first few years sure were confusing up here in the mountains all on my own. I even used to think that my black coat and black fedora was my superhero costume and funneled the powers of a casino into me. Stan, bless his evil heart, let me go on thinking that for years.

      So I was sent here by Stan to show Ace a few ropes. Basically to make contact, and I had not one idea how to do that.

      Not one.

      How do you tell someone, Oh, by the way, your entire life is changing, you will get powers like you grew hair in puberty, and you will live maybe forever.

      Yeah, easy.

      But it did help that she happened to be in my old home casino. She actually lived in Seattle and was just doing some traveling and playing. I did a lot of that as well back in my early days. And banked everything and ended up so rich, I don’t know what to do with it all. I had so many investments now, I needed a superhero accountant to keep track of it all.

      So I figured to get to know another poker player, I should do what I do know how to do. I bought a rack of chips and sat down in the game three seats from her.

      The dealer was an old guy named Gary and he smiled at me. Great to see you back. Been awhile.

      Traveling too much, I said.

      How’s the big house up on the hill coming? Gary asked.

      Almost finished, I said.

      Gary laughed. Heard that before.

      Said it before, I said and laughed with Gary.

      The entire time Ace watched me without really focusing on me. Nifty trick I had developed early in my poker career as well.

      I tossed every hand for the next hour, kept my shields up so she couldn’t sense anything from me, and watched Ace play. She was smart and left the grinder alone, but when she did play, it was clear she had a clear read on the tourist she was up against and she carved away steadily at their chip stacks.

      She was good. And because she was so good-looking and friendly and smiled a lot, the tourists didn’t even seem to notice they were getting plucked like so many chicken.

      A few pointers and a little more practice and she could hold her own or win in any big game in Vegas. I was impressed.

      I would have done what she did in almost exactly the same way.

      And I knew for a fact my presence was driving her nuts.

      Twice during the hour other employees of the room had stopped by to say hi. And that clearly bothered Ace more than she wanted to say.

      I just kept glancing at my cards and tossing them. Not something any normal player would do in a fairly loose no-limit game.

      My play or lack of play would have bothered me as well. As poker players, we want to be in control of the table we are at. I wasn’t allowing that to happen for her. In fact, by buying in, being known by the room’s staff, and then not playing, I had taken control without playing a hand.

      So now the question was what was Ace going to do? I knew what I would do in her spot. Not play a hand against me if I did decide to play. And maybe just leave her chips to save her chair and head for dinner.

      When you lose control, you stay out of the mix. That simple, but she was still young and my gut sense was that she would try to push me in some way.

      I was wrong.

      After another fifteen minutes, which she gained a good thousand into her stack of chips, she pushed back, told the dealer she would be back in ten or fifteen, and then left the room.

      Stan might have found a good one this time. Looks like it was time to go introduce myself.

      After a few more hands, I also left my chips and went in search of Ace. Didn’t have to search hard. She was in the café and had a French Dip and fries in front of her.

      The restaurant had the same mountain cabin feel as the rest of the casino, and in here the tables actually looked like they were carved out of logs and the chairs were polished wood.

      The waiters and waitresses all wore Western-looking costumes that looked as fake as the rest of the place.

      I took the entire restaurant and casino out of time except for Ace and me and walked up toward her.

      She did a panicked look around as the lack of casino noise and movement became clear. I know at first, the lack of noise and everyone frozen can really mess with your mind. Especially the people all around her chewing with their mouths open. I actually didn’t freeze time, I just took Ace and myself between an instant of time. But I called it freezing time because it felt that way.

      I walked up toward her table as she looked like she either might be sick or would panic and sprint for the door.

      Nifty trick, huh? I said.

      She just looked at me blankly.

      I extended my hand. Everyone calls me Poker Boy. But that name is not known in that room or any room, actually.

      She looked at my hand for a second, then shook it. Ace.

      I know, I said, sitting down and taking one of her fries. I came here tonight to introduce myself and you into your future.

      What the hell is happening? she asked.

      I slipped us between a moment in time is all, I said. Numbers of years down the road you might learn how to do that.

      She just looked around, shaking her head.

      Hang on, I said. I’ll put us back in the flow so all these people can keep chewing, but I got to go back to where I was so the cameras don’t notice anything.

      I stood up, went back to near the hostess station and let the noise and the sounds of the casino come crashing back in. Then I retraced my steps to her table and sat back down.

      That better? I asked.

      If you want me to pay attention to what the hell you are saying, yes.

      I laughed and took another fry. Don’t remember these being that good here.

      So what the hell are you? she asked. I could sense something different about you, but then when you sat down, you blocked it somehow.

      That’s one of your powers starting to develop, I said.

      Powers?

      "Yup, at your age, you are starting to develop powers that will get stronger and more

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