My husband gives me ideas. There, I’ve said it. I don’t make it up all solely from my own disturbed imagination. He emails me links to news stories that might serve as fodder for crime plots. Frequently these involve hillbillies, wild animals or the clergy. All useful stuff. But sometimes they’re so bizarre that I simply read in amazement and bow to the weirdness of the world. Any time I get a link that includes both “severed hand” and “nude dancer” I know I’ve hit that territory. Though, thankfully, this particular story is odd rather than ghoulish. The hand was severed post-mortem, and not by the stripper. The best part is that this woman isn’t just any nude dancer: she works at an all-nude juice bar.
If I wrote that in a novel, I’d get an editor’s note in the margin saying “exaggerated.” No kidding.