Russian Roulette

based on a true story

When I was asked to contribute to Killing Dan Malmon, I was tickled. Kate and Dan Malmon are two of the best people in the crime fiction community, and I was happy to write a story to benefit MS research. I didn’t want to kill Dan in a story, but I would do it for a good cause. This one is based on a real event that happened to me in Minnesota, and features many of my favorite Twin Cities haunts and restaurants. Dan’s family ran a famous deli and I recall he loved a local sandwich called the Russian Roulette, so…

Russian Roulette

by Thomas Pluck, for Killing Dan Malmon

The guy cut Dan off like he wasn’t even there.

Cut in line! At Big Irv’s deli!

Un-fucking-heard-of.

The Highland Deli made the best corned beef within a thousand miles of Chicago. Irving sliced away at the slab with a knife thinned to a silver whisker from sharpening, by hand, no slicing machines. “One Pastrami Swami!” He called, and the acne-pocked kid rang up the register.

The lines were long, especially at lunch on a weekend, but you waited your turn. Maybe if you had chutzpah you chatted with a friend ahead of you, how the Gophers were doing this season, and when Irv asked what you wanted, you shrugged to the person behind you like it was an accident.

Dan was a good Minnesotan, and didn’t belief in the death penalty, except maybe for cutting in line. Especially at Irv’s. Who was this guy?

Glossy hair brushed down flat, shaved into a triangle on the back of his neck, like the point of home base, in beaver pelt. Wearing a leather coat, in the balmy 45℉ weather. Not a local. Dan wore shorts and sandals, like a couple of the other regulars. It wasn’t even cold yet, not really. But he did wear socks. No need to share hairy toe knuckles while people were getting lunch, like some sort of hobbit savage.

It pained Dan physically, to confront anyone. Like thumb ground between his ribs. But he hadn’t had a Russian Roulette from Irv’s in forever. He planned to surprise Kate with it while they binged on the next season of Daredevil. He’d grabbed her bag and dashed out, while she showered after her bike race. Irv only took cash, and he had none in his wallet.

“Excuse me,” Dan said.

“What?” The guy turned around. He had eyebrows to match his hair. Thick and brown-black.

“There’s a line.” Dan wasn’t a big man by any means. He ran, cycled, kept in shape. He puffed up a little.

“Yeah, and I’m in front of you.” Beaver Head smirked. “Nice purse.” He showed Dan his back.

Dan seared holes in the back of the guy’s neck with his eyes. Not just a line-cutter, but obviously an unenlightened character. And stupid, to boot.