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Editor's Note:
After writing the last six years' worth of the Best of Knoxville in the exact same manner, this year we decided to do it a little differently. Or, rather, much differently—in fact, we turned the whole thing into a hard-boiled detective story. We're hoping this'll be more entertaining than the usual list of blurbs, while still cluing you in as to why these winners are deserving of their awards. (If you'd like to see the complete list of winners by category, click the "Full List" button below.) Also, our lawyers would like us to apologize beforehand to all those involved.

Special Online-Only Bonus!

When we asked John Mayer to illustrate our Best of Knoxville detective novel, he didn't just throw together some drawings. No, he wrote his own entire story starring Knoxville Confidential detective Solomon Panzer. So please join us now as we enter the alternate-universe version of The Lost Knoxville Caper.

Chapter Eight

It was midnight: the hour when dogs howl and evil is let loose on a sleeping world. Seven of us crept across the World's Fair Site toward the Sunsphere, glimmering ominously in the light of a gibbous moon. My combat antenna was tingling. Something wasn't right, I could feel it. My Splat! paintball training paid off as I zig-zagged across the compound to the base of the structure.

"I'm going in," I told the team of young, tattooed commandos from the Disc Exchange and McKay Used Books.

"We'll rig the explosives to blow in 10 minutes. You'd better make it fast," Cletus told me, before squeezing my shoulder.

With that in mind, I crashed through the Sunsphere's doorway, gun in hand. I stealthily made my way upward to the mighty sphere itself, but encountered not a single guard. I kicked open the last set of doors—and discovered evil itself.

Twelve pudgy, middle-aged men sat at a long table in the cavernous chamber. They were white indeed, so nondescript they might all have been the same man. The one at the head of the table was smaller than the others but towered over them seated on his ceremonial elephant. Manacled beside him, dressed in a harem girl outfit, was none other than the woman who had hired me, Rowena Dickey! She looked up at me hopefully. Near the door through which I'd entered were the thugs I'd encountered earlier and a uniformed city cop. Near the far door was a smaller, more oriental-looking Sherpa with two of the fancy kris knives crossed in his sash.

"Of course," I sneered, "I should have known. Only one man in Knoxville has his own Sherpa. And Professor Von Bonk wasn't saying "Ack!" when he was slain, he was saying...

"'ASHE!'"

"Yes, exactly, Mr. Knox," said Mayor Victor Ashe, smiling in bemusement from atop his elephant.

"So you're the one destroying our city, trading its birth-right for a mess of pottage! You've sold our city's Soul to the Developer! There are those who have styled you King Victor, but I never thought you believed it yourself. You're mad!"

"Mad? That's what they said about Nero. Au contraire, only the mad—fanatics like yourself and Ms. Dickey here—would try to stop progress."

"But you're destroying the fabric of the city!"

"Yesss," he spat exasperatedly, like one explaining the obvious to a dull and willful child, "For BUSINESS! Look what Pigeon Forge has done with some outlet malls, go-kart tracks, and a couple of tawdry theaters and third-rate theme parks. Knoxville can put Pigeon Forge to shame!"

"Plainly, that's not possible," I retorted.

"Ah, but it is! People say they're driving to see the Smokies, but did you know 87 percent of them never leave their cars? It's the outlet malls that are their real destination. So we've arranged with Lamar Outdoor to line the major approaches to Knoxville with scenic billboards. And to keep them unobstructed by trees. Motorists will hardly notice the difference. And when they arrive, they will find a shopper's paradise! How appropriate a city named after the Revolutionary War's fattest general should become totally dedicated to the consumer. We will be a metropolis of shopping and entertainment complexes, all linked by a protective canopy!"

I've seen a lot of horror in my line of work, but even I was shaken. "For the love of God, mayor, you can't mean..."

"Exactly! Malls within a mall. The nation's largest shopping mecca! A dome over the entire city of Knoxville! We will be known worldwide as 'Knoxmall.'"

"But what of all the things that made Knoxville unique—the neighborhoods, the tree-lined streets, the wetlands... ?"

"Oh, pooh on those wetlands! We will have a Water Park!"

Numb with revulsion, I let my vigilance waver. The big thug seized the opportunity. And my gunhand. He put me in cuffs and once again I was a prisoner of The 12 White Guys.

"You fiend," I grated, "you'll never get away with this! The people of Knoxville won't stand for it!"

He laughed merrily.

"The people! How can a hard-boiled detective be so naive? In a city of more than 150,000 people I was elected recently by less than 10,000 voters. There are almost that many people in my Rotary Club. As long as Knoxvillians have free parking, they're happy."

He was interrupted by one of his goons. "Sahib! Security has spotted someone placing a bomb, but we do not have the knowledge to disarm it. We must flee!"

The panicked assemblage leaped to its feet, but Ashe shouted angrily, "Come to order! Come to order!" Sheepishly, they sat back down. "Do I have a motion to adjourn?" he queried.

"So moved," someone said.

"Second."

"Without objection, we are adjourned," Ashe pronounced. The terrified conspirators spilled from the room, leaving Rowena and me manacled.

I had no idea how much time I had as I fumbled with the lock. Fortunately, these were an older style handcuff that I had some familiarity with in a number of contexts.

We raced from the building just as the bomb detonated, toppling the Sunsphere yet again in a massive explosion. It fell upon a small wig shop, crushing it.

"Well, Rowena," I reflected stoically, "we're alive, but I'm afraid no one will take our word over those pillars of the community. Bringing them to justice will not be easy."

"They have already met justice, all but their leader and his servants."

I whirled, startled. A figure moved from the shadows, removing a silencer from a smoking automatic pistol. He was clad all in black but he was not one of the commandos of the independent retailers' movement. He was wearing a costume I recognized from the underground newspapers I'd secretly purchased during my childhood in Knoxville.

"But," I stammered, "I thought you were a legend!"

April 27, 2000 * Vol. 10, No. 17
© 2000 Metro Pulse