Lost and Loaded (#4) - eBook

Chapter 1

Introduction

“Dude,” Bobby Mathews said with a cocktail in his hand, “when’re you doing another anthology?”

We were waiting for the 2024 Left Coast Crime awards ceremony to begin. Hundreds of authors mingled with other writers and fans of the genre. It had the feel of a Hollywood gala. Dressed-up attendees smiled and laughed with each other as they waited for the event to start.

Bobby’s question was about my 509 Crime Anthologies. I’d assembled and edited three collections set in my fictional world of Eastern Washington. They were titled (in order) The Eviction of Hope, A Bag of Dick’s, and Back Road Bobby and His Friends.

All hold a special place in my heart, but it was the second collection that earned me a bit of notoriety in the writing community. That anthology revolved around a missing sack of food from Dick’s Hamburgers, an iconic Spokane eatery.

Upon our meeting at a previous conference, a well-respected East Coast author pointed at me and nearly shouted, “You’re the Bag of Dick’s guy!” Someone in her writing group had mentioned the name of my anthology which earned a round of snickers.

Entries into the trilogy of the 509 Crime Anthologies were by invitation only. I wanted to work with friends or people I admired in the writing business. A few of the authors who shared their work in the previous collections were James L’Etoile, Sarah Chen, Holly West, and Eric Beetner. Naming all the participating authors here would make it feel like reading a phone book.

Some of the stories in those first three collections garnered recognition. Hector Acosta’s tale in the first anthology (“La Chingona”) was selected for The Best American Mystery and Suspense 2022 anthology. Several other stories in the trilogy were listed in the BAMS’ Distinguished Category.

“I don’t think I’ll do another anthology,” I told Bobby.

“Aw, don’t say that.”

“They’re a lot of work.”

Bobby frowned, then sipped his drink. His gaze dropped to the nearby table I was hosting. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

“She ditched me to sit with Wanda Morris.”

“Understandable.” Bobby waved at someone across the room. “I’ll be right over,” he called. His attention returned to me. “Before I go, you gotta make a promise.”

“What’s that?”

“If you do another anthology—” He held up his free hand to stop my protest. “I said if.”

“If,” I agreed.

Bobby saluted me with his drink, sloshing it dangerously close to the rim. “If you do another, you save me a spot.” His smile was infectious.

“You’ll be my first call.”

He toasted me again. “That’s all I’m asking.”