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I shut off my pager and sat down. The record I’d selected, an old piece by the original Brubeck trio, filled the room and suppressed the routine sounds of any barroom. The blend reminded me of the first time I’d heard “Take The A Train” by this jazz trio, in a smoky night club in Washington, D. C. But, that’s another story.
I’d picked a table toward the rear of the place. There were lots of choices; only two others were occupied. “I’m meeting a friend,” I said to the dark-haired waitress. She was wearing faded jeans and an oversized gray sweatshirt that said Property of Michigan State University Athletic Department across the chest. “While I wait, I’ll have a Sam Adams ale if you stock it.” “No problem,” she said and turned away. I was tempted to ask her if the legend on her chest referred to her or the shirt, but thought better of it. Catherine wouldn’t have approved. When she brought me my beer I asked, “You have sandwiches here?” “Yeah, sure. Do you want a menu?” “No, thanks. I was just confirming something.” She smiled and walked away. The place was starting to fill up.
Ten minutes later, Jerome Ford walked in, hesitated and found me. I ordered him a Sam Adams and waited while he loosened his tie. “Very obscure and very nice little bar you have here, J. I had to go around the block because I missed it the first time. No parking lot, either.” Jerry smiled. “That’s the way we like it. Finns has been in the same family for generations and they own the building outright. When I was starting out as a lawyer, I did a few legal errands for them. So,” he smiled after a long draught from his glass, “to what do I owe the pleasure?” I opened my mouth to reply and then paused to watch a tall woman in a business suit step to the juke box and punch in some coins. What came out, to my pleasure and surprise, was Peggy Lee singing “Hot Coffee.”
I looked at Jerome. He smiled a little smile at me. “This place is a real anachronism, Jerry. I’m surprised you let me in on the secret.” “I figure you and Finn’s are compatible and you won’t be telling all your yuppie friends about it. What can I do for you?” “It appears to me there is a roving band of jolly scam artists running a pretty sophisticated operation. They’ve probably worked on both coasts. They run various scams, including some white-collar crime. I don’t know all the players yet, but I’m working on that.”
“So far it sounds pretty ordinary. What’s your interest?” “This seems to be an organized group that’s been together a while. It looks like they haven’t been splitting the take. Instead, they’re stockpiling some of it to finance later deals.” Jerome’s eyebrows went up. He took a slug of Mr. Adams’ finest ale. “Another thing they are doing. They find local investors, people who will pony up some money for a cut of the results. Then the out-of-towners move in and start churning the real estate market, buying and selling quickly to inflate their profits, mostly distressed properties or homes in less than affluent neighborhoods. They work with willing inspectors, real estate salespeople and an S&L or bank or two. They also do an occasional armed robbery and some petty stuff.”
“What for? Walking around money?” “I guess. They appear to have run up against some local competition here. At least, that’s how I interpret what’s been going on.” Jerome nodded and I could see he was not unfamiliar with the situation. “That’s right,” he said. “There happen to be some people already operating a real estate scam., mainly in Hennepin County, but here in Ramsey County, too. They didn’t take kindly to out-of-town competition. In addition to which they figured, rightly it happens, that if things got too active, it’d call down the heat quicker.” I said, “The guy running the local deal is unknown to me, but I think I know the name of the head honcho for the outside gang. Armond Anderson. Other people involved with him appear to be the brothers Talbot, a new contractor operating in Bloomington named Jake Logan, and one or two other bad sorts. How’m I doing?” Ford smiled. “Very good so far, Sean. We have lots of suspicions but few facts. Yours tally with what we know.
I assume the Jake Logan you’re mentioning is the same one who turned up at that Foundation fund-raiser and offered a big chunk of cash from Mr. Anderson. The one we met there. Am I right? It would be entirely too coincidental if there were two Jake Logans. I don’t get why Anderson did that, though” I nodded and swigged from my own beer. “Such a coincidence would never be possible in a detective novel. Of course, in real life things like that happen almost every day. Howsomever, it is indeed, the very same J. Logan. It sort of turns my stomach, but the money will be useful to the foundation. Maybe we should not take these people down until the pledge is fully paid.” Ford laughed. “You have an evil mind, Sean, a very evil mind. One of the factors that bothers us is this.” He paused to consider his words. “Some of these mutts have been in and out of town before. We have some intelligence--” “As different from facts,” I interrupted. “As different from verifiable facts,” Ford went on, “that this roving gang planned something here around six years ago. For unknown reasons, they never went ahead with it.” I thought about that. I wondered if Ford and his cohorts in the courthouse had a link from the money presumably in the aluminum case, to this Anderson. I owed Jerry Ford a lot and I both needed and wanted to keep him as a friend. At the same time, I wasn’t eager to reveal that I’d been suckered into retrieving the money stolen in the Grand Pharmacy murder case. Even if I was almost certain now that the money was tied to Armond Anderson and his gang. I thought I had the money and that Anderson would come after me. I was going to use the case as bait to try to extricate Catherine’s cousin Mordecai. If I could.
You've got Spenser, Philip Marlowe, Father Martin, Mike Hammer, Nero Wolfe, Vi Warshawski, Sam Spade, Easy Rawlins, Hercule Poirot, and Sherlock Holmes as, perhaps, favorite PI characters...but do you recall, the most famous PI of all?
Sean Sean...
What? You've never heard of him? Well, until recently I may have heard of him, but I never met him...in novels I'd read. And, Yes, I had read books with all of the other PIs listed above... so I've had a solid background upon which to judge Mr. Sean, don't you think?
I still miss Robert B. Parker and Spenser. Spenser was not only a top PI, I loved the writing of Parker, even more... In fact, early in my work with authors, I would often refer beginning authors to Parker to get a handle on how to write without lots of superfluous... words...
On the other hand, those PIs that I enjoyed most were ones that were flaunting the past custom of writing in the third person and never speaking to the reader... For me, Sean Sean has become the best in this area. Sean only appears in a small number of books...too small in my opinion. Sure, the author could have tired of writing him and went on to other horizons... But, really, I, an avid reader of PI books, wish I had many more to binge on! I've now picked up all of the available books. Today's book is not the first, and I've already started another, but I want to go back to the first and continue on so that my knowledge of this intriguing character is expanded as much as possible. All of the books are free-standing, meaning, the case(s) is solved in each book. What does expand, of course, is the readers' knowledge of the main and other characters and how they interact routinely... It's kind of like meeting the family of your boyfriend, don't you think?
One of the major things I like about Sean is his constant referral to his training manuals...you know, when he pulls out a novel by Philip Marlowe, which is obviously one of his favorite mentors in all things that could happen within the PI bailiwick... Other authors or their main characters are often mentioned for background...
And, if my memory serves me right, Sean, like Spenser, is the only PI who has a female love interest to enhance the intrigue and sometimes fear of being connected on a long term to someone who may get pulled in unwillingly to a case...
For some reason, Sean talks a lot about being short. I had to think back to Mickey Rooney's 5'2" before I could remember any man who was short but had leading movie roles...
Then I thought of Michael J. Fox and knew he was the character I would choose to be Sean NMI Sean.
My name is Sean NMI Sean. Answering requests and pleas for help is how I make my living. Sometimes I even get to save a blushing female person from whatever form of dragon is in pursuit. That doesn’t happen often, mind you, and I don’t ride a pale horse. My current ride is faded blue, sired by Ford out of Detroit. I don’t actually like horses. Mostly I take jobs that require me to ferret out wrongdoers of low-level chicanery, the kind of cases the cops have too many of and too few resources to spend on. Occasionally, the requests for help evolved into something major. Not often. Now I was answering the call. Actually, two calls. Earlier in the day I took the first call at my office from Sally Belassario. He had a friend in trouble and would I talk to his friend. Since Sally was who he was, I said sure, tell the guy to call me. I promised Sal I’d tell him when the appointment was, so he could be there too. The rest of the day, the guy didn’t call. Actually, nobody called the whole rest of that day. Nobody called the next day either. My business wasn’t what you’d call thriving at the moment. Might be the economy. But at ten-ten the next night, this particular night, the phone rings and it’s some guy I don’t recognize who then hands the phone to Sally himself. Would I come to such and such an address? “When?” I asked. “Instantly,” Belassario said. His voice had a mournful, late-night, too-many-cigarettes back-of-the-throat scarred kind of tone. Belassario, being who he is, and who he knows, I agreed, silently mouthing my objections to having to leave the comfort of my house on such a nice, relaxing, summer night. That was twenty minutes ago. The smell got stronger. I went left on Raney, following Belassario’s instructions. I drifted along the street for a block, the finely tuned engine under the hood of my ride making barely a whisper. My ride didn’t have a name. No loud hoof-beats. No flowing mane, no slashing hooves. I saw flashing lights ahead. After cresting a small rise in the street, I could see the source of the flashes, just two blocks away. My gut and my nose told me I didn’t have to look at house numbers any longer. Good gut and nose reactions are useful things for a PI to have. That’s what I am, remember? A PI, a shamus. A de-tec-a-tiff. I’m pretty good at what I do, in spite of certain physical shortcomings. There are those who have suggested the biggest part of me is my ego. It’s also good for a PI to have a head, or at least a working brain, somewhere close by. Flashing blue lights atop a Saint Paul PD patrol car that pretty well filled the next intersection led me to draw up to the curb. I carry an honorary Ramsey County Sheriff’s badge which the county bestowed on me a few years back. Sometimes it gets me through auxiliary police...
Only thing about being short as a PI is that you need to be well-trained in all aspects of potential violence, which Sean was, to ensure he could handle the jobs he was asked to handle. Sean had hoped to become a police officer, but failed the height requirement...
In addition, Sean is intelligent and makes sure he figures out how to take care of himself by making adjustments to his living... Like always parking facing the front so he can leave early...but also to ensure that a bomb or other unwanted items can be placed in his trunk... And, of course, he checks his vehicle in all other ways before he drives off... One other thing and don't ask me why. Sean wears red Ked tennis shoes all the time...well, almost all of the time unless he needs to escort his lover in a tux... or, as he sometimes does, wears all black, including a very old pair of tennis shoes to be able to break in where he knew he'd have to be very careful...and discreet...
And one other thing I loved about Sean. He even thinks...in...prose!
Dunkin’ Donut coffee shop, I probed my memory cells and dredged up the Grand Pharmacy event. The robbery and killings six years ago had happened on a night very like the one I was currently driving through. It was a dark hour, a witching hour, one of those wee hours of the night when mists swirl; when shadows collect around the edges of narrow pools of wan yellow light cast down by the street lights that march in soldierly rows along the boulevards and avenues of the city. It was that time of night when strange rustlings are heard in the trees, when bats and owls drift on silent wings through the urban forest searching for their unwary prey. It was a time when other predators stir and skulk. It was a time when active imaginations sometimes go into overdrive. It was a time when everyone but nightshift workers and evildoers and fools are tucked up in bed behind locked doors and barred shutters. Nuts. What it was, it was about two-thirty in the a.m. of an extremely hot, still and sticky summer night. As I recall it...
As with most PIs, Sean has developed many types of people as connections. In this case, Sean has been contacted by one of those who may be a little shady, but, nevertheless, Sean knew that it was important to retain this relationship. So they agreed to meet at a specific address... When Sean got there, the house was on fire! And when Sean met his acquaintance, he learned that he was being asked to investigate a man who happened to live in the building. About a cold case that had happened many years ago...
Unfortunately, the man who was going to be further investigated, turned out to be in the house when it burned down. The good thing was that there had also been a chance that five children were in the building. They weren't. So only a bad guy died, taking with him his knowledge! Nevertheless, Sean was asked to proceed. The task was to find a case that had been stolen from the site of a robbery that took place at a pharmacy... and had never been found. Word on the street was that the case held millions of dollars!
I put on some Les Paul. He was a pioneer in multi-track recording back in the forties and fifties and created an electric guitar style that is still unsuccessfully emulated by a lot of today’s musicians. Paul was a huge influence on the popular music culture and I understand that Gibson still markets a Les Paul guitar.
Sean has cats and loves music...so, of course, that was part of my attraction to his life. Sean also talks to the audience. I find it extremely refreshing--if it is well done. You know, it is humorous, and often has Sean thinking to us about what his plans are to handle his latest case... Sean lives in the St. Paul-Minneapolis area so we learn a lot about what's happening there and where the good places are to eat--or not!
Sean also doesn't carry often... Of course, part of the reason is because when he has to carry a heavy gat around all day while traveling around talking to possible witnesses... the weight tires him out... After all, he doesn't even weigh 140 in wet clothes!
So Sean solves the case, of course... But he just keeps on talking...
So, with little else to do, I went through them again, looking at the illustrations, the titles. Like Dutch Sax with the seductive strings and orchestra of Dolf van der Linden. Right. Dutch Sax? Is their sex, er sax different from ours?
Then I laid my hands on an album I knew I had, but had misplaced for years. Frances Faye: Caught In The Act. Recorded by GNP Crescendo records which also issued an album with Helen Gurley Brown called Lessons In Love.
I put F. Faye on the turntable, cranked up the volume and built myself a drink. Several hours later, at about two a.m. with images of those albums in my head I came mostly awake in my chair. On my stumbling way to bed, I began to get the glimmer of an idea as to what my next move should be.
So over the next days or weeks, I'll be sharing more about Sean Sean and his PI exploits... through the rest of the series... I hope using this first post to tell you all about Sean, will ensure that you plan on coming back!
Balson writes drama that is real, gritty, and provocative in its coverage of past or present world events affecting us all. This time we visit Northern Ireland, still dealing with "The Troubles" as it was called...
St. Michael's, a Five-Hundred-Year-Old Gothic church, sat perched on a hill beside a river named Six Mile Water. The car park was nearly full when I arrived and the moment I pulled in I saw Jane. She was standing alongside her car in a black jersey dress, having a smoke. When she saw me she flipped her cigarette, walked quickly over and threw her arms around me.
"So glad you're here, Liam." She slipped her hand in the crook of my elbows and led me toward the church. "Everyone will be so pleased to see you."
"Maybe not everyone."
"Anyone who's not will have to answer to Janie," she said forrcefully.
We walked into the vestibule where the congregants had quietly gathered around my uncle's casket waiting to follow him into the nave. My aunt Deirdre, a black veil covering her head, held her hand firmly on the casket. She would hold on as long as she could to the man she'd loved for so many years.
My arrival turned a few heads and some acknowledged me with a nod. We still off to the right, next to my uncle Robert, Janie's father. Normally, he was the jovial Taggart, with cherry cheeks, a generous paunch and a beer in his fist. Today he had dark circles under his eyes. He warmly shook my hand. "Welcome back, Liam. It's good to see you."
"Good to see you as well," I answered. "I just wish it weren't under these circumstances."
"As do we all."
I leaned my head sideways and whispered to Janie, "How did he die, Janie? What did you mean we'd talk about it?"
"He was killed, Liam. Murdered in cold blood."
~~~
Liam Taggart lived in the United States and worked as a private investigator. It was natural to assume that the phone ringing might be for a job--but he never would have guessed that it would be both bad news and a job! His cousin, Janie, was calling from Ireland about the death of their uncle. Fergis Taggart had died the night before... Fergis and Liam had been estranged for years and Liam's first reaction was not to go to the funeral. After all, Fergus had told him to leave his home on the day they had last talked...
But Janie had surprised him during the call when she said "The family needs you. Uncle Fergus needs you." Liam's puzzlement started at that very moment... How could Uncle Fergus even know if he was there or not? And he wasn't really sure that many of the rest of the family would want him there, especially after they had found out about him... After all, some would call him a traitor...
It was at the family gathering at Doogan's, that the division of family feelings began to come out...But Janie held to her promise and quickly stepped in by introducing Liam and explaining that she had been the one to call him and insisted he come. She then pointed out that Liam was a private investigator and that the family would be fools not to use his expertise to discover who had killed Fergus... Things settled down until the reading of the Will...
Liam had been named the sole Trustee of Fergus' property until such time as the person who had murdered Fergus had been discovered and prosecuted... The characters and readers both were flabbergasted! What the victim had done was essentially state that he knew somebody planned to murder him...and he'd made sure his estate was held until everything was cleared up... The police really were being put on the spot, as was the members of the family who might have thought they would inherit, especially Fergus' children...
Essentially, placing Liam as head of the Trust with full control, brought everybody's feelings about Liam back to the front. But Fergus had so arranged it that Liam would probably be forced to take the role, whether he wanted to or not...
A legal thriller like those that often come about when a large amount of money is at stake through family inheritance (and, even, when it is a small amount, sometimes death brings out the worst in greedy people) is surely one of the options to pursue. But so was somebody coming back to seek revenge based upon actions by the Taggart Family during The Troubles!
What actually happens is that, while Liam is in the middle of things, he spends more time learning about the family and what has happened between and among them. One strange thing was that his beloved aunt who had cared for him when Liam had lived with Fergus early in his life, had never been officially married. She was possibly going to lose the right to stay in her home!
The family drama is engaging, familiar, yet embarrassing, as fighting begins even before the family members leave the lawyer's office for the reading of the will! While the potential historical perspective chosen by most family members as the likely answer to the death of their Uncle was certainly intriguing given what had occurred those many years ago. but really seemed unlikely... But then, more relatives began to be murdered. Fear of which old family could be after them caused both the police and family to begin remembering who they had killed...and who might still seek revenge for those deaths they had caused...
And part of that investigation naturally took place at the local pubs, where Liam, even there was remembered for another reason... I thoroughly enjoyed his being asked to sing an old Irish song from the time of The Troubles.
Just then the band finished a number and Janie grabbed my hand and pulled me up to the stage. "C'mon, Liam. I've heard that you sing a mean 'Roddy McCorley.' Get up there!"
I hesitated, "No, no Janey. Don't do this to me," But she was forceful "Who told you that? It was Deidre, wasn't it? Janie!"
The bartender ran up with a short of whiskey and handed it to me. "The stage is yours, Liam. We're waitin'." The fiddle player nodded to his companions who picked up their instruments. "Roddy McCorley, gents."
I hadn't done this in years. I downed the shot, looked at Janie and said, "I'll get you for this." She laughed and was joined by others in the bar who smiled and prodded me on. I took a deep breath, grabbed the mic, and started slowly.
"O-oh, we the fleet-foot host of men who come with faces wan..."
My weak beginning to the anthem brought police smiles and nods from the gathering at Conway's, but in for a dime, in for a dollar and I plowed ahead.
"From farmstead and from Fisher's cot, along the banks of Ban..."
Thank God for the band behind me setting the beat. The crowd started clapping and keeping time with their feet. I got a little louder. And a little bolder.
"They come with gengeance in their eyes, too late, too late are they,
For young Roddy McCorley goes to die on the bridge of Toome today."
I started to hand the mic back to the guitar player, but the banjo picked up the tempo, a man ran out with another shot, and comeone shouted, "You can't quit now. On to the second verse. You're doing splendidly."
I shrugged, downed the shot and continued to embarass myself. While I sang and looked out over the crowd, most of whom had come here, to their local watering hold, to nurse a pint and enjoy a peaceful evening of music and neighborhood camaraderie, it occurred to me that these were my people, my Irish roots, my DNA. For the men and women, especially the older ones, the words to the traditional tunes came to their lips as natural as breathing. And when I got to the third line of the third verse, "For Antrim town, For Antrim town, he led them to the fray." many stood and belted the line boldly, raising their beer glasses in salute...
~~~
And there is the key to why Balson's books continue to be so popular, so real. This author takes us into the lives of characters, no matter where they are, and we feel like we become part of the lives of those characters, constantly considering how each one has been affected by the events happening in their lives...right now... as they face a future without loved ones that have been purposefully taken away from them. For in the midst, secrets always come out, supposedly hidden for a reason... I cried with Liam as he learned his father had been murdered... so many years ago... at that time, possibly, just because he was Catholic... If you haven't read any of Balson's books, this is an intriguing book to begin! This and his other books I've read are highly recommended! GABixlerReviews
Ronald H. Balson is an attorney practicing with the firm of Stone, Pogrund and Korey in Chicago. The demands of his trial practice have taken him into courts across the United States and into international venues. An adjunct professor of business law at the University of Chicago for twenty-five years, Ron has also lectured on trial advocacy in federal trial bar courses.
During the early 2000s Ron spent time in Warsaw and southern Poland in connection with a complex telecommunications lawsuit. While in Poland Ron was profoundly moved by the scars and memorials of World War II, which inspired him to write Once We Were Brothers, his first novel. Extensive travels to Israel and the Middle East provided the inspiration for Saving Sophie, his second novel. While on his Once We Were Brothers book tour, Ron met Fay Waldman, a survivor of multiple Nazi prison camps. Her remarkable story inspired and provided the backdrop for Ron's third novel, Karolina's Twins.The Trust is Ron's fourth.
Starting a new book begins the adventure. Will it be totally new or will it provoke memories of a similar book? I was very pleasantly surprised when I started putting together the characters and the dialogue...and thought of my favorite author, Robert B. Parker, now deceased... I have no idea whether the author intended it, but, if he did, he certainly picked a writer/role model worthy of emulation... The main difference I saw was that the story and the dialogue was more street and contemporary. But there was the snappy crisp dialogue among the three main characters that brought a smile as we see the characters interact...
Chandler is the main character in the series. This is the third book, just out. I would have preferred to read the first two books, but the author provided sufficient flashback material to make the book easily free standing...
Chandler's client is Arnie Grossman, a local businessman and philanthropist, who has begun a building project to provide community centers for young people to get involved with sports and other activities rather than joining gangs... The key issue that each has been built in high crime areas--of course this is where they should be to do what they are meant to do. However, some would prefer to keep the kids in gangs and working for them in drug sales and more...
The criminal's plan--kill a young woman and put her in Arnie's room... It might have even worked if Arnie had not been sharp enough, when he woke up from a drugged sleep, to call for help from Chandler! And, wow, does he take over! Soon he has a lawyer for Arnie, gathers sufficient information to start his own investigation...and, of course, calls the police in. Actually there is mutual respect if not total cooperation between Chandler and the assigned officer, but their interaction does add considerable support to what it happening and keeping readers current... For me, this book was character driven and there are a number of interesting one to follow--even one of the villains proved to have a role with managing the gangs in his area. Of course, Chandler's methods of gaining his attention was unorthodox enough to cause offense initially, but was willing to later negotiate when it was important to both of them. Chandler is gutsy, confident and experienced to deal with just about any job he now takes as a PI...His background has prepared him, and while he takes swift action when needed, his moral fiber comes through to make him an exciting series main character. Mary, Chandler's lover and now secretary also is a confident woman who readers will easily see has that full confidence from feeling safe with Chandler. Her past has been rough and she's willing to participate in any way needed but when it gets too dangerous Chandler and even his sometimes partner, Johnny Quick, will work to ensure she's kept from harm in a safe place... Johnny Quick's character most aligns with Hawk from the Spenser series. I loved Avery Brooks in the series (and later in Star Trek) and could quickly see Johnny Quick being also played by Brooks. He can be so scary when he faces the villains but then we also see the soft side of him as he relates to his friends... Johnny Quick makes an excellent backup for Chandler when he needs help!
Especially when the whole climatic action begins as the book comes toward the ending. These two men walk into danger, but even Johnny Quick questioned some of Chandler's decisions... even while being willing to walk alongside where Chandler led... Two Cool Dudes! I thought the genre was more police procedure, so you know what is happening as the book moves forward. The action also moves it as a thriller when villains start going after villains and Chandler decides which group he's going to help... I thoroughly enjoyed the book and certainly recommend you check it out! GABixlerReviews
Bill Craig taught himself to read at age four and began writing his own stories at age six. He published his first novel at age 40 and says it only took him 34 years to become an overnight success! He has been publishing steadily ever since that first book Valley of Death and now has 80 books in print or ebook. Bill is the proud father of four children ranging in age from 38 to almost 8. He has 7 grandchildren and 1 great grandchild. Mr. Craig has worked a wide variety of jobs over the years from private security and corrections work to being a grill cook and dishwasher. He has been a news reporter, done factory work and even a stint as a railroad clerk. He currently does customer service work to support his writing addiction. His ultimate goal in life is to break the record held by pulp author and creator of The Shadow, Walter B. Gibson, for writing the most works in a single year!
"How would you feel about a little mis-direction?" "My nipples are hard." "Here," I said, tossing him my coat. "Try this on. Put the collar up and wear this." I tossed him my watch cap. "before you step outside, have the doorman hail you a cab. As you see it pulling up to the curb, step outside and make sure you're seen. Then hop in the cab. Quick. Like you're trying to get away from someone." "And while I doing this you'll be?" "Waiting by the side of the building to make sure he takes the bait... "You're a master, Swann." "I do my best..."
"You look a little disconcerted, Swann," Klavan cannily observed as I tossed my coat on one chair and plunked myself down in another. His office is so clean, with everything in its place, that I always feel like I should be wearing white gloves. "I hate it when I'm inadequate, that I'm not as good as I hope I am." "That happen often?" "Too often, way too often." "What is it this time?" "I was being tailed. I thought I'd lost him, but she shows up waiting for me outside your building." "He's no magician. He probably knows where your, or should I say my, office is. It's on your cards, isn't it?" "I didn't hand him my business card, Ross." "Easy, big boy." "Sorry. I'm just a little unnerved. Obviously, I thought I was better than I am." "You're probably not as hard to find as you think you are. He probably knows where you live, too." "I doubt that," I said, my mind whirling, trying to figure out how I was going to lose this guy before I got home. "Sometimes I even have trouble finding my way home." "You're listed, aren't you?" "Are you kidding? So everyone and his mother can find me? There've been times when I'm only one step ahead of all those guys I used to find for skipping on their bills. And in my business you don't have a lot of satisfied customers. You think I'm going to list my address so just anyone can find me?"
WELCOME, HENRY SWANN! Although I haven't had the chance to read all of the books you star in, I've always been curious about you... [Check out my reviews of his earlier books and also his own site where I picked up this voice tape so you can get a feel for his voice.] I also found a sketch of someone purported to look like him... Still he haunts me for some reason... Swann, there are fans out there who are still trying to nail you down and get to know you better... Moi, included!
It didn't take me long to sink into Charles Salzberg's latest Swann novel... But since I still don't have him clearly in my mind, I started thinking about my other PI favorites, although Swann is not licensed, he's starting to use that title! Some scenes brought the sexy voice for me from the Mike Hammer TV program as he, too narrated his actions during cases...
But then there would be comments about his appearance and his lack of attention to himself and it was then that Columbo came to mind...
although I do know Swann prefers casual, usually jeans...
So then the overall underlying humor and sly remarks came and I immediately turned to Spenser, who also narrates his work--perhaps my favorite (or at least my favorite author who created him, Robert B. Parker)
Spenser had a great partner who I loved, but... Swann added a "possible" partner in this book and a pair of detectives entered the competition... Nero Wolfe and his partner...
But NONE of them would do! Swann and his potential partner, are unique, different. But as included on the front cover, "Henry Swann is in the great tradition of American mystery heroes; world-weary, philosophical, tough, and competent..." And you're gonna love his internal thoughts as a man named Goldblatt forces himself into Swann's life... Will he become a permanent addition? Will Swann partner up? And what about a steady female? There was one in this book that I'd like to see again by the name of Claudia. She just pulled a scam...but...she could change, couldn't she???
Anyway, enough of my character search, let me tell you about the latest in this terrific series...
Here's a plea to the author...get us more on Swann and where he's heading in the future...
Swann's Lake of Despair
By Charles Salzberg
As the title implies, this novel was quite different in sharing the life of Henry Swann. It shows much more of his internal thinking, especially about the individual cases in which he becomes involved. In many ways, he becomes the judge and jury as he decides first one way and then another to "close" the case to his own personal satisfaction. Of course, I felt he made all the right decisions, so I enjoyed watching his thoughts through the activities. And if the individual who was paying the bill for his investigation was not happy? Hey, that was his problem, right?
"Goldblatt, you gonna tell me what the hell you wanted to see me about?" I said, as I watched him shovel another forkful of pasta into his mouth, or at least in the general vicinity thereof. Believe me, it was not a pretty sight. "Year. Sure. After we finish the meal." "I don't know if I can wait that long. Watching you eat is making me sick." "You got a problem with the way I eat?" he said, as a few droplets of red sauce shot through the air and landed on a glass I'd moved in front of my plate for protection from just such an assault. "Exhibit number one," I said, pointing to the glass. "Huh?" ..."Now maybe we can discuss the business you said you had for me." "I haven't had desert yet." "Screw dessert, If I don't hear the reason you got me here, I'm leaving." "Okay, okay, I need you to do a solid for me." "I don't do solids. I learned a long time ago that solids always turn out to be work and, like beer spilled on a table, it tends to get sticky and spreads out. For work, I get paid. And I doubt that's going to happen with you. How much have you brought in since you got disbarred?" ~~~
So, in respect to Swann's true character, I was quite pleased to learn where his heart and motives were... The blurb for the book is quite succinct. After agreeing to work on a temporary basis with his "frenemy," Goldblatt, he was immediately thrust into working three cases... Not an easy thing to do since he had little time to do the thinking required to put the respective puzzles together... The first one immediately felt like a scam to Swann. It was to find a lost diary by a young woman who had lived during the "Jazz age." Goldblatt had already made the connection and wanted Swann to deal with the exchange--or something like that--but what it turned out to be was that Swann went to the meet and was assaulted! Not a good way to start a relationship... The second job was to attempt to find the lost photos of a once well-known photographer. Pictures he had taken of Marilyn Monroe had surfaced sometime in the recent past and had sold for a bundle... Goldblatt was contacted to search for the remaining work that had never been found. Let's stop a minute and mention that Goldblatt, an attorney, has been disbarred, but still manages to keep a living going by these strange jobs that he finds somehow... Swann, as you may know, started out as a skip tracer, finding people who had not paid their bills. He was good at it--finding people. So all that Goldblatt had brought to him was some version of that activity. The last job was a straight-out missing person case. A young-man, heartbroken when his girlfriend left in the middle of the night, wanted Swann to find her. Hopefully to bring her back but at least to find out that she was not dead or in danger... When readers watch Swann in action, you might first consider that this investigative work is easy... But that opinion doesn't last very long as he's working his way through the lives of the involved three people, trying to find some clue, some tip that sounds marginally possible, to see what the next step in the search is. You can understand my comment about time to think through each of these puzzles! But with three cases going at once and an agreed-upon temporary partner who has the pushy personality of a lawyer, Swann is becoming overwhelmed at times... But, hey, Swann handles himself quite well...most of the time...
"Nice guy, huh?" he said, as he swiveled back and forth in my chair.
"Jack?"
"Yeah."
"I try not to jump to conclusions."
"You don't like him?"
"I didn't say that. I just said the verdict isn't in yet. There's something a little off about his story...and him. I don't pretend to know women and I know they're unpredictable, but disappearing into thin air like that. That's something professional con-women do. But in this case, she didn't take him for anything, at least anything he's admitting to her having taken, so I'm stumped."
"Just his heart."
"Yeach, just his heart. Suddenly, I've turned into Miss Lonelyhearts," I said, as I made a subtle motion with my hand for him to get out of my damn chair. Somehow, he didn't get the message. "Would you please stop swiveling around like that. You're making me dizzy. Besides, shouldn't I be sitting in my own chair?"
"You want I should get up?"
"God forbid," I said, as I dragged a folding chair from the corner and sat down opposite him...
"I've got a few other irons in the fire. But there is something else I wanted to talk to you about."
"I don't renegotiate. The split is the split."
"It's not that, although I think we are going to have to revisit that subject at some point in our relationship. We've got a little unfinished business I'd like you to take care of."
"It wouldn't be that Long Beach fiasco, would it?"
"Year, As it turns out, that money you lost if a little more important than I thought it would be."
"Quel surprise. And by the way, just for the record, I didn't lose it. It was taken from me. And it never would have happened if you'd warned me what was going on. You sent me there like a lamb to the slaughter."
~~~
While each of the jobs is really a mystery to be solved, there is no suspense, few thrills... What readers will enjoy is engaging, humorous, dialogue as two men begin to know each other and think about working together... Then there Claudia who uses the attraction she sees in Swann to ensure he agrees to work with her...even though she and her friend are the ones who first assaulted him! Got to say, she must be some kind of woman and slick enough to fit in with Swann's activities...at least, in my opinion...LOL The talk is rough, sometimes with words you might never have heard of, like a "solid" but easily understood to be the street language of the businesses and the place where they live...
I'd never juggled three cases at once, but the money on this one, if it was real, was awfully tempting. In my head, while Goldblatt rattled on, I tried to organize how I'd handle it. this was Wednesday. If I went out to Long Beach Thursday morning, I could take care of that. Friday, I could start the ball rolling on the Feingersh case. Florida, Saturday morning, take care of that. I wasn't used to working that hard, but I could do it, especially if the motivating color was green. And speaking of money...I'd never make it in this kind of work...Handing out $20 here and $20 there...or more would never, in my mind, justify working on dangerous jobs, no matter what the pay... But then, as they say, people do what they do best... And Swann knows how to find people... Of course, he solved all the cases... But how he solved them? Well, not even Goldblatt, his temporary partner, will ever know...
Hey, grab a sandwich, cup of joe, sit in your favorite easy chair and let Swann tell you all about his latest cases! You'll relax, smile a lot, maybe chuckle once in a while and...enjoy! And, maybe, by the time you get toward the end, you'll be very interested in listening to Swann's spout his philosophy about how each of the cases were closed...
"Cut the crap, Goldblatt." "Listen, Swann, if this is going to work, if we're going to be partners, then we have to be equal partners. Otherwise, there's the risk of bad feelings on one side. My side, to be precise." "What about my bad feelings about splitting things with you fifty-fifty, especially since I'm out there doing all the work, taking all the risks?" "What risks? I don't see a mark on you." "Psychological wounds, Goldblatt. The kinds of wounds you can't see." "What? You're gonna tell me you suffer from post-traumatic syndrome? You gonna pull that card on me?" Right about then, I was thinking, OMG, is Goldblatt ever going to shut...up...? Yet, Swann was sitting there smiling, who knew? Hey, check this out...and if you're good with your research, you'll find out who plays Swann... Me, I was quite happy with the face, going with the voice...sure glad I got to know you better in your latest! Swann, you're welcome at BRH any time... Now, about that girl Friday... Highly recommended! GABixlerReviews "Dreams don't work unless you do." --John C. Maxwell
Charles Salzberg is a New York-based novelist, journalist and acclaimed writing instructor. His new novel, Devil in the Hole, a work of literary crime fiction based on the notorious John List murders, is on the shelves now. He is also the author of the Henry Swann detective series: Swann’s Last Song, which was nominated for a Shamus Award for Best First PI Novel; Swann Dives In; and the upcoming Swann's Lake of Despair. A celebrated and popular creative writing teacher, he has been a Visiting Professor at the S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications at Syracuse University, and has taught writing at Sarah Lawrence College, Hunter College, the Writer's Voice, and the New York Writers Workshop, where he is a Founding Member. He is a consulting editor at the webzine Ducts.org and co-host, with Jonathan Kravetz, of the reading series, Trumpet Fiction, at KGB in New York City. His freelance work has appeared in such publications as Esquire, New York Magazine, GQ, Elle, Redbook, Ladies Home Journal, The New York Times Arts and Leisure section, The New York Times Book Review, and the Los Angeles Times Book Review. He is also the author of From Set Shot to Slam Dunk, An Oral History of the NBA; On A Clear Day They Could See Seventh Place: Baseball’s 10 Worst Teams of the Century; and co-author of My Zany Life and Times, by Soupy Sales, Catch Them Being Good; and The Mad Fisherman.
"My mind swirls like a powerful whirlpool in a dark sea. There are sounds...distant...so distant. Pain. God. how I hurt! I can't move. Why can't I move? Casket. I'm dead! No. There's too much pain...every bone, every muscle, every fiber of my being throbs! Death is unfeeling--life is where all pain is. I'm alive. But where the hell am I? "My eyelids feel like they are glued shut. If I could just...open...them." A slit appears in the right eye and then the left; vague, fuzzy. "I see light...white light. Aaahhg!" My whole body screams with pain. "'Go toward the light!' I read that somewhere. It was an author's advice to a dying character. But I'm not dying. I'm in a room. Everything's white. Bandages. Why am I bound like a mummy? Smoke. Fire. Explosion. Carol! Where's my wife?" I try to scream. "Carrolll!" But nothing comes from my throat, only my mind. "God, my throat hurts." "An alarm sounds and a nurse rushes into the room. She checks the monitors and then my pulse through the bandages. "Try to stay calm," she says. "You were in a terrible accident." "It was no accident!" I want to scream. Memories splash through my mind like raging river rapids..." "You are in the burn unit at Dayton Municipal Hospital. You have been through quite an ordeal. How is the pain?" "Turrbuh," I manage to murmur through my restricted throat and the tight bandages. "Hurt so baa..."
~~~
And Let There Be A Hero
By R. M. Kidwell
With 567 pages in a novel, readers get more than they realized! This is Kidwell's second novel and, in case you didn't read the first one, which I hadn't, he provides a portion of that book as an Appendix so we know how and when Kalen Gatt was nearly killed in a fire. I appreciated that! The interesting thing about that incident was that Gatt chose "not" to tell the truth about what had really happened--even though he lost his wife that day...
Another Appendix contains a short story, which readers can choose whether to read... it was written by the main character in the novel! Cool idea, right?
Another interesting aspect of the book is that there are really multiple cases, or you could consider them shorter stories, divided but totally integrated within the novel... so be prepared for a long read! LOL
"Right now, I am in the throes of trying to regain some semblance of a life. I pray that I am not so horribly scarred that my children will shudder when they look at me. I want them to be proud of their dad and think of me as a fine father, a great person, an outstanding citizen, and--let's face it--their hero. "Can a dad be his kids' number one hero even when they grow older? Hey, it's possible. The last I heard, there are no age limits or time restraints on being a hero. In fact, I wish to offer a word of caution: Be careful whom you piss off. Somewhere between cradle and crypt, anyone, N-E-one, could one day be a hero. Think about it: Joan of Arc, Abe Lincoln, or even Boo Radley in "To Kill a Mocking Bird." "Is one born with a set jaw? Of course he isn't; nor a limp wrist for that matter. These are learned behaviors. To become a "real" man, which I strive to be, one must read deep down where bravery and valor dwell to find that special something. I learned this very early in life. ~~~
Readers enter into the life of a man who is totally disfigured--his pain, his rage, his attempts to get back into some semblance of his former life... He must! He has two children that need their father. Even though he was worried about how they would react to him... will they be able to see him as the hero he once was? And then there's his career... He's a cop! A Homicide Detective in Dayton Ohio... And when he gets back on the job there are three open cases: The Alphabet Assassin, the Johnson case, and a hazing incident. Can he still perform assigned duties? Kalen notes, "Before that fateful, hateful event, I had the world on a string and used it for my personal yo-yo..." He had been a rapid-riser in rank and there were some that resented him for it... So getting a call-out at 3 AM was par for who was flippantly called "the hotshot..." Fortunately his partner, Matt Cutter, was a good guy to work with... Kalen had started calling him "Cold Cut" and somehow Kalen had picked up "Special K..." I enjoyed the traditional "bad cop" that Kalen will play to then allow Cutter to be the nice, good cop that wins over the witness. In this case, the housekeeper had found the body of Trotter, a local millionaire, who had been murdered. Of course, while still on the scene, the Special K had decided who was guilty, while Cutter took the time to do the necessary investigation... And while that is going on, a personal family disaster pulls Kale into an investigation about a local restaurant using sick cow meat... And then there's the vigilante... who turns out to be a paranoid schizophrenic worried about aliens and cannibals... So while working, dealing with his family and the crap that happens at work, especially from his superiors, he and Cutter talk about opening their own PI business... But not before, Kale becomes acting Chief of the Crime Investigations and they even use music to catch a serial killer:
"Well, it may just mean that the killer doesn't want to add to the risk of being caught. But, somehow, I think this is the key to the whole thing. Why does he use words like adorable, beautiful and cute instead of just a for Ann or Alice, b for Brenda or Betty, c for Carol or Connie? The English language is so vast, yet the killer sticks to sweet, affable words. To me, that has to be significant..."
Readers will be working along to solve crime after crime until, at the end, 4 characters remain, beginning a new Private Investigation organization...and an ongoing group for this series!
If you enjoy crime fiction, check this writer out. The sub-title of the book is :You've Never Met a Detective Like Kalen Gatt--There's Never Been One! I agree, not only because of his physical limitations, which will be shared with readers, but because he's a smart, funny, hero-type of guy that you will enjoy getting to know.
Highly recommended...
GABixlerReviews
About the Author
Years ago, my spouse and I watched an acclaimed film. Great acting but the plot was boring. Up for several awards, it won zero. Surprising? Not to me. When we left the theater, I remarked, "The story line was horrible, I could write something better than that." My spouse said, "Why don't you?" Meaning, "Drop the subject," but I took it as a challenge. In four years, I wrote seven stories; four novels; a poetry anthology; and two musical plays. The writing bug did not bite me; it crawled into my ear and lodged in my brain.
