Meghan Leigh Paulk’s first published fiction, the story “It’s Half Your Fault,” appears in EQMM’s current issue (July/August 2023) in the Department of First Stories. The Texas author has also written a novel entitled Hollywood Down Low, which is currently with her agent. The book  was a finalist in the 2019 Writers’ League of Texas manuscript contest and was also selected for Pitch Wars 2022. In this post Meghan gives us a glimpse of how her interest in and perspective on crime fiction (and crime!) changed through real-life experience. —Janet Hutchings

Would you recognize a killer if you worked for him?

I always wanted to write mysteries. As a kid, I devoured mystery novels the way other kids devoured Doritos. I started with Nancy Drew, moved on to Trixie Belden, graduated to Agatha Christie, then began raiding my parents’ bookshelves for John D. MacDonald’s Travis McGee books. The Westing Game became a particular favorite of mine. I loved the puzzle-solving that mysteries offered. I viewed life through the lens of a mystery novel. When my family visited a lake cabin in the summer, I thought up places to dispose of a body there. When I met someone new, I’d think of ways I’d describe them (suspect or a victim?) in a book.

But I never expected to stumble into a real-life mystery. And I never expected to be so unprepared to encounter actual killers.

It happened in 1995 while I lived in Los Angeles. I’d moved to L.A. from Iowa in 1993 with the sense I needed to see more of the world if I wanted to write about it. After a year spent piecing together odd jobs to pay the bills, I took a waitressing gig at a high-end strip joint called Bailey’s Twenty/20 in Century City. The club catered to celebrities. I figured it might make a good setting for a story someday. Unfortunately, that venue suddenly closed in 1995 due to legal troubles.

I found myself unemployed with little savings. A good friend of mine from Bailey’s got me a waitressing gig at another strip club, Bare Elegance. I needed the work. So, I took the job.

Little did I know at that time, the Bare Elegance was at the center of an unsolved L.A. mystery.

A former co-owner of the club had been murdered in 1989. Horace “Big Mac” McKenna was mowed down by machine gun fire while he sat in his chauffeured limousine, waiting for the gate to his estate to open. McKenna, a six-foot-six bodybuilder, had been a colorful figure. He’d been a California Highway Patrolman before his arrest for running a prostitution ring and his conviction for passing counterfeit money. McKenna spent four years in federal prison but, after his release, he became a wealthy strip club owner. His hilltop estate in Brea boasted a menagerie with a tiger, a jaguar, and an alligator. He was described variously as kind, eccentric, and intimidating.

I never met McKenna but I heard whispers about his murder while I worked at Bare Elegance. One employee even hinted she knew enough that she might not be “allowed” to leave the job. You see, rumor had it that McKenna’s business partner and former CHP partner, Mike Woods, orchestrated the hit. Woods’ bodyguard, David  “English Dave” Amos, also benefited from the murder—becoming a club co-owner after McKenna’s death. The two men certainly didn’t keep a low profile. In 1994, they collaborated on film called The Takeover about rival drug lords in a turf war.

But the McKenna case remained cold while I worked at Bare Elegance.

And I didn’t believe the rumors. Yes, I’d grown up with a head buried in mystery novels but, when faced with a real-life mystery, my head retracted into its shell like a turtle. After all, these were my bosses. I saw them every Monday night when they showed up for the club’s dance contest. They drank at the bar. They complimented my outfits. They couldn’t be murderers. Could they? When people brought up incriminating stories (e.g., Amos’s girlfriend died suspiciously in a helicopter accident), I dismissed them. All my mystery-solving instincts deserted me. I simply couldn’t believe that anyone I knew would be capable of murder.

And yet I considered myself to be quite jaded. A cold-eyed observer of human nature. I still read murder mysteries during this time period. Patricia Cornwell and Sue Grafton were two of my favorite authors. Both authors depict scrappy, savvy female detectives. Yet, despite all the red flags at my workplace, it never occurred to me to dig for the truth. Some part of me didn’t want to dig too deep.

In 1997, I left the Bare Elegance and, in 1999, I started law school at Vanderbilt University. I thought I’d put the Bare Elegance behind me.  

Then, in February 2000, I heard that the murder had been solved. The gunman himself had finally given authorities a break. Johnny Sheridan, a manager at the strip club, admitted that Amos had hired him to do the hit. He agreed to wear a wire in order to catch Amos. The sting operation succeeded. Amos then turned on Woods, the mastermind of the crime. Police arrested all three men in October 2000. Woods was convicted of first-degree murder while Amos and Sheridan both pled guilty to voluntary manslaughter.

The outcome of the case shocked me. I never suspected Sheridan. I’d worked with him daily. He was a considerate, if haphazard, manager with a lovely wife and adorable daughter. The British Amos exuded lively charm. Only Woods, who had a reptilian chilliness, seemed to fit the part of “murderer.” But I learned that you can never really know what someone is capable of doing—even someone you think you know well. I wonder sometimes why I wasn’t willing to look at the darkness behind the club’s neon façade. These events loosely inspired parts of my manuscript HOLLYWOOD DOWN LOW, where a strip club co-owner’s suspicious death sets the story in motion. I used that manuscript to work through my feelings about looking the other way when faced with a real mystery. I kept the events highly fictionalized, inventing a new topless joint called Club Ten and creating a different set of owners. But the day-to-day world of the club is very similar to the places where I worked. I never solved a real-life mystery, but my protagonist, Allison Patrick, does catch the killer.