I recently (finally!) picked up the sixth collection of Day Keene stories from the glory days of pulp magazines, a collection called Homicide House and Other Stories. Like past volumes, it’s a pulp-y gem of fast-paced, twists-and-turns, tough men and tougher women stories, many following the Keene trope of “how are they ever going to get out this predicament” style, but here – I think for the first time – we see a couple of stories that were later fleshed (hahaha) out into novels, perhaps when the mystery/pulp/action/detective realm took a turn from magazines into easily-tote-able paperbacks. One of those is the story “My Little Gypsy Cheat-heart,” which I’ve read and loved in a longer version, My Flesh is Sweet (read the My Flesh is Sweet Cocktail Talk why dontcha – actually, don’t miss all the Day Keene Cocktail Talks). In the latter, there’s a little more character development, a little more plot, a little more this and that, but that doesn’t mean the former wasn’t fun to read – it was! And neat to see how Mr. Keene built on it, as if the story was still in his mind after his first take. The story version of the story, if that makes sense, led me to wanting to highlight the below quote, too, which is an apt one as the story (and the novel) start with a murder in Mexico, before moving stateside for the murderous finale. It also has a lovely description of how one might feel the morning after too many.
The phone bell was loud and insistent. I sat up mouthing the cotton the tequila I’d put away had seeded and looked at my watch. It was five minutes to two.
“Ad Connors speaking,” I said into the phone.
“Come over to the Flamingo,” Elena begged. “Please. As fast as you can get here, Ad.”
— Day Keene, “My Little Gypsy Cheat-heart”