Last week I
wrote about the competition on TaleFlick to generate interest in turning “Why
319?” into a movie. Turns out that over 30 novels were up for consideration, in
a wide variety of genres. One book received more than 2,000 votes.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t mine. If you
voted for it, thanks for the support. I knew
it was a long shot, but as Wayne Gretzky once said ‘I miss 100% of the shots I don’t
take.’
Yet I found
the experience interesting nonetheless. I’ve had a few opportunities in the
past when discussing my novels about who would be cast in the different
roles. That sounds like a potential
drinking game, where a group of authors and readers gather in a bar and play
casting agent, trying to put together the best all-star cast for the big
production.
Maybe this
experiment will lead more people to pick up a copy of “Why 319?” in whatever
format appeals to them (e-book, print or audio book) and give it a try. They may be pleasantly surprised at the
twists and turns, the characters involved and the story itself.
Meanwhile,
it’s back to the keyboard. There are
characters and conflicts and stories to tell.
Since “Why
319?” has been on my mind this week, here’s an excerpt from that story. One of the key relationships here is between
Chene and Detective Megan McDonald. In
this scene they take a break from the first day’s work on the case to grab a
meal.
Megan was already at a booth in the corner by the time I got
to Sharkey’s. Squeezed in beside her was a man in his fifties. He had a full
head of wavy silver hair that still showed faint traces of blond and a neatly
trimmed goatee. Blue eyes sparkled beneath his bushy brows. Although a couple
inches shorter than Megan’s five six, he appeared physically fit and ready to
take on the world. Megan was laughing at some comment he made when I sat on the
opposite bench.
“She’s a bit young for you, old timer.”
“Nonsense, she’s over the age of consent. A beautiful woman
is always fair game for the art of romance. Just look at her! Those luscious
curves, that flirtatious smile, the wavy blonde hair…What man in his right mind
wouldn’t want to flirt with her?” His voice was low and husky from too many
cigarettes and too much scotch.
“Try romancing me, old man, and you’ll end up in the
hospital,” Megan said with an affectionate grin.
He turned his attention to me. “You look like hell, Jeff. Is
the insomnia still knocking you down?”
“Yeah, Ted. I figured a meal here and some of your
scintillating conversation would put anyone to sleep.”
He wiggled a thick finger at me. “You better respect your
elders, or I’ll report you to the nuns.” Then he shifted his gaze back to
Megan. “And that goes for you, too. I’ve got enough dirt on the two of you to
send those penguins to an early mass grave.”
“How about bringing us some food, old man?” I asked, trying
my best to change the subject.
“It’s a lousy night. Cold, damp rain all day long, you need
something hot, something filling.” He winked at Megan. “You trust me?”
“Occasionally.”
Ted considered it for a beat, then smiled broadly, a
lecherous gleam in his eyes. “Hell, that’s better than I usually get. Leave it
to me.”
With that, he slid out of the booth and headed for the
kitchen. In less than a minute, one of the wait staff returned with two
steaming bowls of Italian wedding soup and a bottle of Riesling. Until the food
was in front of me, I didn’t realize how hungry I was. Megan tasted it, then
closed her eyes and sighed contentedly. “God, he can be a nuisance, but I
really love that man.”
“Quickest way to get rid of Ted is to mention love.”
She shook her head. “We both know better than that.”
We ate the rest of the meal in silence. After the soup, we
had mushroom caps stuffed with crab meat, then grilled scallops in lime sauce.
I didn’t remember drinking the wine, but the bottle was empty as we finished
eating. Megan ordered coffee and sat there watching me savor the last few
ounces of wine.
“How many years have you known Ted now?”
I did the math. “Sixteen. It was in the summer.”
“Yeah, back when you were a badass street kid, living the
life of crime.” A wide smile split her face and she rocked back and forth in
her seat. “Until you got busted by that old man.”
“He wasn’t that old back then. And he could move pretty
quickly.”
She shook her head slowly. “Good thing I’m the only one who
knows this story. Guys like Kozlowski would never let you live it down.”
Megan and I attended the same elementary and high school. She
was the first person to befriend me, and we’d been close ever since the third
grade.
“You think Koz never committed a crime when he was a kid?”
A condescending look crossed her face. “I’m not talking about
the crime. I’m talking about getting caught.”
She could be so annoying when she wanted to be. I ignored
her.
“You really should go get some rest, Chene. We’ll probably be
on the run most of the day. How do you want to begin?”
“We’ll start with the Warren detectives. Then I want to go
back to the scene, even though it is a month old. Let’s see if we can view the
room, maybe talk to the staff and get a feel for the layout of the place. Then
we’ll move on to the family and friend interviews. Monday, we’ll start with the
employer, coworkers, and contacts.”
Megan drained her coffee, then checked her watch. She raised
her eyebrows at me, her face bearing a quizzical expression.
“You got a date?”
“Sort of. We talked about meeting in an hour.”
“And?”
“And I’d like to go home, freshen up, put on something
frilly, a splash or two of perfume, and go jump his bones.” She batted her
lashes at me and tried to appear innocent. It didn’t work.
“You’re such a romantic. You realize that’s a lot more
information than I need.”
She slid from the booth and grabbed her jacket. “I’m just
trying to give you ideas, Chene.” With that, she leaned over and gave me a
sisterly kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be at the squad by eight. Thank Ted for
dinner.”
Just that quickly she was out the door, leaving me with a
lecherous old saloon keeper and the dregs of the wine.
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Music this
week comes from James Brown.
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