Crimespree Magazine

One of our favorite humans on the planet, Anthony Neil Smith has been driving around the country and defacing books, usually with his signature, and usually only in books he wrote. This travelling death squad (death to mediocrity!) is pulling into Milwaukee and Neil has hacked his way into Crimespree Central and left this for you:

Last stop: Seth Harwood’s Crib

So far, the total we've spent in gasoline equals pretty much all the advances of my first three novels. And we're not finished yet.

A cry for help out of Milwaukee. The problem? A general sense of malaise. The solution? Joining our road trip.

But as a large number of crime fiction writers have learned, a stop at the Jordans in Milwaukee means getting the royal treatment. And so it is again--a blessing for all of us dirty, overstimulated, sleep-deprived, hallucinating trigger-happy travelers. Can we all please stay the night?

And boy, what a night. The walls lined with crime novels, the food is tasty, the conversations are heated, and the DVDs are full of extras. Yes, one truth about the editors of the required-reading Crimespree Magazineis that they treat us writers better than we deserve.

From the first minute you meet Jon, Ruth, and Jennifer, you realize they know more about your work than you do. Their enthusiasm and respect for the genre bowls you over, too. My friends since at least 2002, we've traveled the same roads for a long time now--Bouchercons, Mayhems, signings, taco shacks. Through them I've met more writers than I would have imagined when I started in this gig. And I'm sure many others can say the same. It's why we all flock to Crimespree--it's become a almost like a club newsletter so we can catch up with our friends. It's a brilliant idea: let's publish a magazine that actually builds a stronger community around crime fiction. Quite an achievement. I wish them more and more success and growth.

And we can't forget that Ruth is an up-and-coming author herself, winning lots of attention for her story "Little Blue Pill" in the great Expletive Deletedanthology (edited by Jen, and I'm in it, too). And we can see why: "He yanked off my sweater. The buttons of my blouse flew across the room. Don turned me around and pulled up my skirt. Rammed me from behind, pushing my head into the chair's armrest. I felt fear. Glorious fear." I'm sure she did! That last bit stabs at you, right? Nicely done.

Makes you afraid of Jen's forthcoming sequel to Ex Del: Sloppy Seconds (Or Uncaged, as they're calling it now. Damn. My guess: corporate pressure). She's a woman who knows how to coax some dirty out of otherwise mild-mannered authors.

The next morning, we're waiting in the Hummer-sine as they lock up the shop. Here they come: Jen's in the bad-ass leather boots while carrying a book of Henry Rollins Essays. Jon's face is hidden in a haze of dramatic cigarette smoke, Harley Davidson jacket warning enough for all of us. And Ruth, she just takes one look at the awful crew we're hauling, cocks her eyebrow, and says, "Bunch of pussy lightweights if you ask me. Maybe I'll show you a thing or two about road trippin'."

They've been nice to my books, too. Big fans of all three, saying wonderful (and unfortunately untrue) things about me in the pages of Crimespree. And they even let me and the boys have a cover, for god's sake. They wouldn't do that unless they really believed the work was good, right (unless they're cruel people who want to set me up for failure)? I'm just going to trust them when they say Yellow Medicine kicks a lot of ass. Well worth the investment of twenty-six or fifteen bucks (depends on if you like Hard or SOFTcover) at Barnes & Noble on Psychobilly Monday (May 12), or the cool and hip indie store of your choice, like Milwaukee's Mystery One, where you can often find the Jordans hanging out.

Onward, this time to Maine, where we hack our way through the underbrush of the forests to seek out the cabin of Patrick Shawn Bagley. We've heard that as long as we keep our hands up and take slow steps up to the door, we should be okay.

Driving time: A quick one. 'Bout twelve minutes (give or take a day).

Tune for the leg: "This Ol’Wheel" by Shooter Jennings (not psychobilly, but definitely high-tech hillbilly)

This years awards will be given out at Bouchercon in Baltimore. It was a good year for books and we had a lot of votes.

By this time last year Crimespree was exuding information and enthusiasm for the State of Kentucky, the infamous and entirely charming Zev Buffman and a new mystery festival. The International Mysery Writers' Festival. Our enthusiasm has many in the Midwest asking if they should go this year. Well, duh. In fact if you need to recharge those mystery con batteries this is the one event I can promise you will be different than anything else you've ever seen. No matter how far you have to come to get there. No other mystery "event" has accomplished as much in its first year.
Record attendance. A mixture of mystery and cultural fans and 12 plays presented in seven days. Books (which will always be the first love of Crimespree) were lovingly cherished within major stage productions. And the radio plays? A year later I still remember them all. So between the first year of the Festival and now a lot has happened.
The accolades. In the new play catagory for this year's Edgar you will see a theme... The Mystery Writers' Festival ran the catagory. There's a reason. With great venues, and a gross of talent, without the restraints of a Broadway budget, yet within the means of a hailed producer to demand the very best, well miracles can and do happen.
Zev and his team have also done the impossible, they've acquired a group of productions for 2008 that is more than impressive, it's breathtaking. Please visit their site. But Agatha, Sherlock as adapted by Stuart Kaminsky. Guest stars like Rupert Holmes, Mary Higgins Clark paired with Ray Bradbury, Sue Grafton receiving the second ever Angie for life time achievement.... You got to try to make it. There are first time authors there as well, new discoveies. And Robert Levinson, he of the multi-talents will offer two one act plays of his origin in one presentation.
As I said the earlier a lot has changed in a year. Kentucky has a new Governor and new spending policies. I am not criticizing, I will not mention the possibility of this wonderful entity dying before it has a chance to become, but if you are intrigued go this year. Zev will take care of us. We'll all have a wonderful time. And it will be even better year three.
All I know right at this moment is I hope my husband Jon and William Link (creator of Colombo amongst other staples) have a chance to do chest bumps. Mannix is coming out on DVD (and I assume Blue ray too).
Ruth

In this next issue:
From The Editor by Ruth Jordan
Newsbits – happenings around the mystery world
Lori Avocado in Alaska
Small Publisher Spotlight: Busted Flush
Fiction: THE BEWITCHED by by James Patrick Hunt

Cover story: Crimedogs
Anthony Neil Smith, Victor Gicshler and Sean Doolittle

Crimespree on the Road: Love is Murder
Sex Drugs rock and roll...and a comic Thriller by Raymond Benson
The Parisian Jungle; French Crime fiction Jean-Marc Lofficier
Interview with Ben Leroy
Eye On Hollywood Jeremy Lynch.
DVD Reviews
Fiction: THE MEDIUM AND THE MAN by Tony Perona
Michael Stanley Intervied By Pat and Gary from Once Upon a Crime
Reed Farrel Coleman:Back to the Future by Gary Shultze
B. Clayton Moore interviewed by Jon Jordan
Reed Farrel Coleman
Spencer Fleming for Hire
Patry Francis Interviewed
Midwest Literary Festival by Ron Edison
Julie Hyzy interviewed by James Dasner
Jewish Boys do Ride Motorcycles by Ken Issacson
Crime and Idiocy #3
Authors and DVDs
The Buzz Box
Book Reviews
Comics Spotlight
Cooking With Crimespree, the Sean Chercover edition


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Crimespree is happy to join over three hundred people in celebrating a talented author and strong woman: Patry Francis. Patry's book, THE LIAR'S DIARY, is also being celebrated on this fine winters day. A day in which we join Patry to promote her powerful debut book and to wish her well as she makes a comeback from cancer. And make a point of checking out Patry's story in the Killer Year Anthology.

Find all the info you need over at Lit Park, including a list of everyone involved and a write-up of a book that will soon be on your TBR pile.

We have to thank Laura Benedict for getting us involved and for interviewing Patry for the next issue of Crimespree Magazine. Big hugs to Laura and Patry both!

Issue 22 of crimespree has been delivered to the mailing service and will be on it's way. Our cover story this time out is Megan Abbott. She talks about writing and her new Anthology HELL OF A WOMAN.

Also in this issue:

Murder and Mayhem in Muskego in pictures

Authors in the Bush by L.C. Hayden

Hey! It’s Ayo!

Footprints: Rex Stout by Linda Mickey

Fiction: PITCH by Michael Penncavage

Web-isodes by Susan Arnout Smith

Cover Story:Megan Abbott

Linda Richards on her latest

Fiction : FIRST TIME HITMAN by Thomas Mollica

Reed Farrel Coleman

Rants and Raves from Robert J Randisi

Rebecca Pawel Interview by Anthony Rainone

Editing Chicago Blues by Libby Hellmann

Extreme Suspense : Fiction for Teens by Amy Allessio

Eye On Hollywood with Jeremy Lynch

DVD Reviews

Conversation with Marcia Muller by Gay Totl Kinman

California Burning by Randall Hicks

Killer Year Redux by JB Thompson

Daughters of Juarez by Ruth Jordan

Fiction: 24/7 SECURITY by JD Rhoades

Interview with Ed Brubaker by Duane Swierczynski

Where Ideas Come From by Gabriel Cohen

Book Reviews

Quick Interview with Ruth Cavin by Steve Hamilton

Crimespree on Comics

Cooking with Crimespree – A recipe from Martyn Waites



Subscribe to Crimespree here

If you subscribe now you can still get this latest issue.

Labels: Crimespree Magazine, DVD Reviews, Megan Abbott, Murder and Mayhem in Muskego, Muskego

A Community

Laurie King thinks of her nineteenth novel, Touchstone, as a “country house political thriller”— Jack Reacher meets The Remains of the Day. She has been blogging about Touchstone since its beginning, and this month she is on tour with the book, both in person and virtually.
**

When I was a kid, my family’s chief form of entertainment was our local library. You’d think I would have decided early that I wanted to be a writer when I grew up, but in fact, my life of being a reader didn’t morph into being a writer until I was well into my thirties.

I occasionally wonder if I would have started writing earlier if I’d ever met a real, live writer, but all those books I brought home, all those stories I drank in, might as well have been beamed down, dust jackets and all, by the little green men in the sky. Those author photos? Probably generated by the same art department that came up with the cover art.

But then I hit my thirties, and like a person who has lived in a foreign country so long she’s learned the language, I started to write. And because I was stubborn and I paid attention and I was lucky, my face was one of those on the books beamed down from the heavens.

And life opened up. If I had problems imagining real-life writers before I became one, well, the idea of an entire community of writers was far, far beyond me.

But that’s what I found. Scattered across the world, linking up at conferences and tours, blessed by the quickness of email, catching news of each other, not over the village well, but in reviews and PW and at bookstores. Some of my closest friends are people I’m lucky to see every year or so, at which time we slip back into friendship as if it were a daily occurrence.

As you might imagine, I keep a close eye on magazines such as Crimespree, both print and online. It functions like a Christmas letter from a really big family: Oh, so THAT’s what they’ve all been up to!

It’s very nice of Ruth and Jon to keep me in touch with my extended family.

Book Excerpt

Laurie King’s Blog

hi all from the Crimespree desk. I’ve taken over the ‘puter tonight and I’m “working” so naturally I have an urge to blog. I think it must be those recessive writer genes.


Happy Holidays!!


I’ll let Jon give you the blow by blow on all things Christmas but guys? Five days to go and all gifts but 2 are purchased and wrapped, decorating, baking, candy making and dipping scratched off except for Jon’s chocolate covered potato chips. We’re going into true holiday mode. Company is coming and going, we’re to-ing and fro-ing and all is well in our own little corner of mystery. As I hope it is in yours.


Newspapers……


This next bit is fairly close to what is known as B.S.P. but really it’s meant as an observation from the sidelines. I got a call from Jen4 last Saturday, my name was in a book review. I was declared “notable” in the Chicago Tribune. I have to say the warm fuzzies are staying with me (and for those of you who know Jon, yes he bought up every print copy left on the newsstand and no, I don’t scrapbook). EXPLETIVE DELETED was an ambitious project edited by my very own JEN4 and she included a story I wrote, took one look at, and knew had no publishing possibilities. That’s my own personal F@#K. I thought she was pretty darned kind to include it and worried over calls of the “N”(epotism) word. For that alone, “notable” was cool. But to see my name mentioned with the other contributors? Mind blowing. And now I know a little of the feeling writers must feel when mentioned and/or compared with others. And it’s way cool. Especially in a year where any mail I’ve gotten on things jotted down (print or net) have been on obituaries. Is this my forte? I guess we’ll all find out together.


I see best of lists beginning to appear on the internet and I confess, I’m a peeker. So I’m not sure where I’ll end up and thought I’d mention just a few books that inspired before I’m tainted by others opinions.


Ruth’s OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD…..


I can’t mention Laura Lippman who continues to be even better with every book but whom about I cannot be objective anymore. Read everything. Enjoy it all. Watch her growth. So…


First , that dreaded last week of Dec. release date made a truly great Crime Fiction book go not unheralded, but strangely unremembered last year and out of real competition this year. FIND ME by Carol O’Connell is a wonderful book. I’ve been mostly hot on the Mallory character since her inception but FIND ME brought us back to the sociopath Mallory is and took us all on a roadtrip that won’t be forgotten soon.


The long delayed American release of the GRAVE TATTOO by Val McDermid took a bit of wind out of all the hype but all the hype was well deserved and 2007 was when it came out. Outside of her Jordan/Hill series this is a book that takes place in several different locations, in several different timelines, with several different P.O.V. And yet GRAVE is an effortless read. Not many could do this but it is unsurprising that McDermid can. She is an unstoppable force.


March saw a fellow Scotsman’s book come out stateside as well. It was on my list last year and will remain on the list forever. THE NAMING OF THE DEAD by Ian Rankin is a must read in any year. EXIT MUSIC (U.K. 2007) is a great note for Rebus to go out on but every note is in play while reading NAMING.


THE WATCHMAN. Robert Crais has married his highly successful thrillers with the Elvis and Joe we all fell in love with. Combining all of his skills, this may be my favorite Crais read of all time. I suspect he’ll make me eat these words at some future point in time.


In the names I cannot understand missing files I’ll include:
Colin Cotterill(ANARCHY & OLD DOGS), Greg Rucka (PATRIOT ACTS), Michael Koryta (A WELCOME GRAVE),Mike Harrison (RUBY TUESDAY) & Vicki Hendricks(CRUEL POETRY).


THE “WOO” has legs, versatility, and depth file:


Could two books be more unalike then John Connolly’s THE UNQUIET and Charlaine Harris’s ALL TOGETHER DEAD? Not Really. Connolly’s thoughtfully drawn out story of decades of secrets and Harris’s seemingly “lite” story of a gal on an adventure may both get the woo label but THE UNQUIET is so literary in themes it cries for the author to be the next Jonathan Lethem inductee into the hallowed halls of literature that appeals to the masses and the other? Harris proves it is possible to laugh your way through a well crafted mystery until it is time to cry. Two very credible scribes writing beyond labels in very different ways.


Denis Mina’s Paddy series ( THE LAST BREATH) is still my favorite series of this decade. Several months after reading Greg Hurwitz’s THE CRIMEWRITER I can still quote passages. Declan Hughes(THE COLOR OF BLOOD) is huge in this house. Likewise fellow Irishman Ken Bruen. PRIEST is a book to break the heart. Bruen is a writer who makes that okay.


In the new kids category…. coming in early and giving “Killer Year” credibility are Sean Chercover (BIG CITY, BAD BLOOD) and Marcus Sakey (THE BLADE ITSELF). The joy of reading WHEN ONE MAN DIES by Dave White, a truly outstanding first mystery, after pub date was a highlight of my reading year. From Bleak House, two stood tall this year. Craig MacDonald’s HEAD GAMES & Bill Bryant’s KEEP IT REEL. Neither are new writers, but they are new to print and both delivered the goods. The folks at Bleak House continue to find talent. My other fav first has to be LAST RITUALS by Yrsa Siurardottir, although a translation it is my first experience with the author and I say it counts. (I didn’t read the Hart book yet).


Short Stories:


Three stand tallest for me (well four really but see the second part of this long winded blog) Hellman’s CHICAGO BLUES, Penzler’s THE BIG BOOK OF PULPS and Akashic’s WALL STREET NOIR.


Non-Fiction
okay, so the book about the serial killer guy who worked in L.A. and his home town that everyone is talking about? I threw it across the room when the author started to get clever, moving back and forth between timelines and adding too many point of view. It is a fascinating tale, but it did not sing out in execution the way two others did for me. First up is THE DAUGHTERS OF JUAREZ. The horror of it is awe inspiring. The culpability we all share when we buy a car or baby powder is horrific. Theresa Rodriguez deserves a lot of recognition for telling a story no one wants to hear. And my second selection? Published in 2006 (okay I was late finding it) THE PHILOSOPHY OF NEO NOIR is a must read for all who’ve ever taken part in the debate “what is noir?”. And for giggles, from the same press (University of Kentucky Press), I recommend THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE X-FILES (and yes the “N” (epotism) word applies here.


And with that I’ll leave you all with the words you can never go wrong with Bill James…


Ruth

Labels: 2007, best of, books, mcdermid, rankin

Holiday greetings from the Crimespree team.

We're offering a special deal for the holidays. Everyone knows somebody wo loves mysteries and crime fiction.

If you buy a gift subscription for someone else, we'll extend your subscription by two issue as a thank you.

And if you don't subscribe we'll send you a book, we have a number of arcs and other extra copies to share.

Just let us know that it's going out as a gift and that you saw this post and we'll hook you up.
Subscribe to CRIMESPREE HERE
Give the gift of CRIMESPREE this season!

Well the event we planned since last year is now done. And I think I can safely say that it came off great. The friday night lead in was a lot of fun. A signing at Collector's Edge comics with Brian Azzarello, Greg Rucka and Gregg Hurwitz, then off to Mystery One Books and the ownderful cafe next door to hook up with the rest of the authors. Friday capped off with a party at our home for all the authors which included home cooked lasagna and the now traditional bathtub full of beer.
I think I can safely say this is the ost people we've ever had over at one time.

The library eent was astounding. The opening panel with Libby Hellman and some of the authors from her anthology CHICAGO BLUES, Libby is the perfect way to start the day. Joining Libby were DC Brod, Jack Fredrickson, Barb D'Amato, Marcus Sakey and the mad professer himself, JA Konrath.

Round two was Boxing annoucer and author Tom Schreck moderating the authors from Minn.
Kent Krueger, Ellen Hart, Carl Brookins and Mary Logue. Funny and fast they worked as a team and wer wonderful and Tom is a natural moderator. ANd not only are they all entertaining as hell, but they are great writers too.

Lunch ensued with authors eating with fans and then the afternoon rolled in.

Magie Griffin moderated Brian Azzarello, Gregg Hurwitz, Chris Mooney and Sean Doolittle. Fun panel and a great group of writers. Azzarello is writin an ongoing series at Vertigo for DC Comics called 100 Bullets and it's some of the best crime fiction out there. Hurwitz just keeps getting batter and better. Chris Mooney has a new series that kicks ass. And Sean Doolittle should be on everyone's shelves.

Greg Rucka was then interviewed by Ruth Jordan. No notes, just a head full of knowledge. She spent the last two weeks reading Greg's comics, and reread a few books. The two of them really looked like they were having fun, and I know the audience was.

Gary Niebhur then interviewed Laura Lippman. Again, another mystery author who loves to laugh, and another great interviewer. Two experienced pros doing what they do best.

The day ended with Robert Crias being quizzed by Sean Chercover. New PI writer interviewing a verteran. And once again, a great hour for fans.

The day was broken up by a cookie break with homemade cookies from the friends of the library. The friends of the Muskego Library are amazing in all there support and work.
There was also a raffle that raised a nice sum for the event which will make doing next year's event even easier.

This year the event was the biggest yet with around 240 attending, and at one point a head count showed 300 some people in attendance.

So thanks to everyone who came, thanks to the authors who visited us inNovember and thanks to the Muskego Library. And a specail shout out to Penny Halle and Jane Genzel for making it all work so smooth.

Labels: Author Events, Murder and Mayhem in Muskego, Muskego

November 10th starting at 10:00 am and running to 5:00 is our third annual Murder and Mayhem in Muskego. Muskego is just outside of Milwaukee here in Wisconsin.
This year's line up includes:
Brian Azzarello
DC Brod
Carl Brookins
Sean Chercover
Mark Combes
Robert Crais
Blake Crouch
Barbara D’Amato
Sean Doolittle
Jack Fredrickson
Ellen Hart
Libby Hellmann
Gregg Hurwitz
JA Konrath
William Kent Krueger
Laura Lippman
Mary Logue
Chris Mooney
Gregg Rucka
Marcus Sakey
Tom Schreck

http://www.murderandmayheminmuskego.com/

You can register on the website and the $10 includes lunch and a book bag with free books.

Or if you just want to come for part of it the event itself is free.

Hope to see you there!

Labels: Author Events, Muskego

After a pretty uneventful drive down from Milwaukee, two wrong turns and a 24 oz can of rockstar energy drink we arrived at the Hyatt OHare and unloaded our stuff Friday afternoon and headed right over to the Rosemont convention center for Wizard World Chicago the 2007 version.


The Goddamned Batman!

The first thing we did was head over to the DC Comics staging area. Huge banners hung around it, plasma tvs in the middle showed previews of comics and up coming cartoons. I stopped and took it in, noise, lots of color, lots of people. I asked and was pointed to David Hyde who was with John Cunningham. These are the guys who you don't normally see or hear about. They do the marketing and publicity. David used to edit one of our author buddies and John was the driving force behind St Martin's Minatour imprint for mysteries. We spent some time talking about the book biz. No matter where we go, we find a way to talk about mystery novels.
The crew at DC really worked hard and they never stopped moving. People stopping by to ask for buttons, artists dropping off portfolios for a new talent search, and of course people stopping to meet artists and writers, which they had a lot of.


Brian Azzarello

As we headed out of the DC area we stopped to worship Brain Azzarello. For my money he is writing some of the best crime fiction today, graphic or otherwise. Having never met face to face this was a treat. Mr. Azzarello is charming and and funny and a real gentleman. The fanboy that I am I had to get a 100 Bullets mini poster signed.


Top Cow Booth

From here we kind of wandered, I had a few other people I wanted to meet, but we just kind of played it by ear. We ended up at the Top Cow Comics booth. Once again, I really appreciate how much work the publicity department does. We work with a great guy named Filip Sablik and he never stops working. Waiting to meet Filip face to face I took in the Top Cow layout, a big circle of tables like covered wagons waiting for an attack, inside men in black Top Cow shirts waiting to help fans, and artist busy working. I walked away with a bunch of Trade Paperback editions including The Freshmen volume2, a great comic.


We left Top Cow and were immediately at the ZENESCOPE Tables. They publish Se7en, a prequel of sorts to the movie which is every bit as eerie. They also do the highly entertaining Grimms Fairy Tales. Updated version with great cheesecake style horror art.I really love both these books.

Right around the corner of the same circle of tables was Silent Devil Comics.
They publish a number of different titles. I had to buy The Devil's Panties just because of the title. As it turns out, its a really funny and smart collection of comics strips that I really enjoyed. We also picked up King Arthur Vs Dracula and a number of other titles. I really enjoyed THE LAST SIN OF MARK GRIMM. Noirish detective stuff with a bit of a twist. Really fine reading. Written by M.Seam McManus.


Vankin and Moore

Matt Wagner

From here we went to the Vertigo panel. A rundown of titles to come from Vertigo with a nice slide show put together by Fletcher Chu-Fang, DC's convention coordinator. On the panel moderated by Bob Wayne, we had Jonathan Vankin (editor), Tony Moore, Matt Wagner, Brian Azzarello and Peter Gross. There was talk about the 20th aniversery of Hellblazer, and an upcoming title we're really excited about, INCOGNEGRO. The question were a mix of actually interesting and typical fanboy stuff.

At this point we did what Ruth and I do at most conventions, we went outside to smoke. And as happens at most conventions we started talking with our fellow smokers. In this case it was a writer and an artist. R D Hall is the writer of American
Wasteland, and Mark
Kidwell is an artist who has drawn a lot of differnt things, including the first issue of American Wasteland. We like these guys right off the bat, they dig horror, they smoke, and they wear black.

Kidman with his latest book.

Hall with new series artist Tony Bledsoe.

American Wasteland is a great book. I love the art and the story rocks, it's a horror/action/zombie/vampire adventure and it kicks ass.
You should check it out.

Right now.

I finally got to meet Jeremy from Dark Horse. Having played phone tag since BEA it was nice to meet him finally. Jeremy rocks. He's a tattoo wearing cool dude who really knows how to work the booth. Talking to me, halping fans and setting up for mat Wagner to come by and sign the new Grendel hardcovers all at the same time.
Jeremy - You rock.
And Dark Horse rocks too. Martha Washington ominbus coming soon, HELLBOY and B.P.R.D., Grendel. This is a great publisher with
some kick ass books.


We retired to the hotel to eat expensive burgers and read and sleep.
Most of the other fans styaed up really late, the hotel vibrated form the buzz.


Day two started with a look out the balcony towards the convention center

An hour to go and people were lined up around the block. We hung out, had breakfast and waited to go in till after it opened.

Saturday is the busy day. The costumes come out.

We tried to see a bit of everything. The line to meet Michael Madsen at the Fangoria booth went on forever. The man is a real trooper, smiles all day long, and he signed forever. Madsen is a class act. He is also as tall as he seems on film and has the same cool swagger. And a sparkle in his eyes according to my wife.


Walking around we saw Booby the Brain Heenan who was nice enough to shake my hand when I thanked him for hours of entertainment as a kid. Lou Ferigno looks great, still in shape and really nice to the fans. The original Lois Lane Noel Neill was also very ice.

Other celebrites included Richard Hatch of Battlestar Galactica fame. He also has a new series coming out soon.


We walked down artist alley and Ruth bought a print.

We stopped by a table because we liked the banner.

Dead City comics was a nice stop. I bought some issues of Insignificant Gods. Urban trippy noirish stuff. Really cool indie comics worth checking out. And van Derian is a reall nice guy, and Roxy is too cool.


Jon Cassaday signing a lot of comics.


The rest kind of becomes a blur of buying comics and meeting people. We ran into author Raymon Benson. I saw a life size Tardis.We saw really cool toys, I subscribed to Wizard Magazine for two years and got a cool prize.

Daily Planet for Hero Clix toys

We hit the Avatar comics booth a few times. We bought any cool books, shot glasses and t-shirts.I love Doktor Sleepless and Black Summer. Lady Death is really cool too and we met Brian Pulido, great guy, great artist.

Moonstone Comics had a table and I had to stop. Had to.
why?
Well because they are doing books and comics with some of my favorite heroes!
Buckaroo Banzai, Kochak, The Avenger, Doc Savage, The Phantom.Moonstone rocks.
I picked up a great book called THE NAKED ARTIST by Bryan Talbot. It's a kind of tell all about comic creators retelling stories from conventions and signings. I laughed out loud and woke my wife while reading.
Moonstone is doing some really cool stuff and you should check them out.


Saturday night we hung out with friends who live in the area. We went for dinner and had a great time.

Ruth is already talking about going next year and is deciding where we should stay.
I met a lot of great folks, and I have to say, the people working for Wizard did a great job. THe whole place, and it was pretty big, was running like a machine. These people put on a great show and if you've never been to a comic convention you need to go.
Wizard Entertainment is the site to hit for information.

So think you Wizard, I had a great time and I promise, we'll be back.

This ran in our Bouchercon Special Edition last year and has been nominated for an Anthony Award

MY FATHER’S SECRET

By Simon Wood


My old man didn’t really keep secrets. He just never said anything. Mom was always saying, “Don’t ask your father questions. He won’t appreciate it.” And he wasn’t the kind of man you coerced into revealing something he didn’t want to reveal. His construction background made him mountainous. He had the kind of handshake that came from cutting rebar with hand shears and a backhand to match.
People were always saying I was like him. True, I had his height and build. They also said we sounded alike, although I never heard the likeness. But, I did lack one attribute that no one denied--his coldness. Thank God.
I got to study my pop a lot, seeing as we worked together in his hardware store with my two younger brothers. I watched him deal with customers with the same lack of affection that he reserved for his family. It was amazing how he exuded
caution. Customers knew better than to haggle over returns like they would with me, Tommy or Art.
And I came to realize that I only knew my father through observation. I was twenty-two and knew nothing about him. I didn’t know if he’d played high school football, gone to college, or how he’d even met my mom. I wondered how much she
really knew about her husband. None of us were allowed into his hermit world--until last year.
It was February and Minneapolis was struggling to throw off winter when dad’s phone rang in his office. We were forbidden from answering that phone. It was a private line--for his use only. Dad’s instructions were clear. “Don’t touch that phone. Don’t take a message. If I’m not here, let it ring. And, don’t come in when I’m on a call.”
We always knew when the phone rang. Dad had bells hooked up throughout the store and warehouse, even in the john, so he could hear it anywhere. Everyone froze when it rang and waited for him to lock himself in his office before answering the call. No one ever said anything during his calls, customers included. I don’t know why. It wasn’t like we were going to hear anything. But that was the kind of respect Dad commanded.
Dad emerged from his office ten minutes later. “Vincent.”
I looked up.
“Here.” Dad held the office door open and closed it behind me. “Sit down.”
Dad was grim-faced.
“Anything wrong?”
Dad shook his head and sat at his desk.
“I’ve got to go to California and you’re coming, too.”
I perked up. After every closed door call came a business trip. My father never divulged any details about the trips other than they were for business. For me to be included was an honor indeed.
“You’ve grown into a sensible young man and an asset to me.” These were hard words for my father to say. Affection, like the dead, was kept six feet under. “It’s about time you got involved in another side of our business.”
“Thanks, dad.” My mouth was arid and the words struggled to come out. “When do we leave?”
“Now.”


Leaving Sacramento International, I peeled off my coat. California’s warmth was a vast difference from the frozen gray of Minneapolis.
Dad led me to our rental car. Except, we hadn’t rented a car. Our car was in the short-term parking lot. Dad knew exactly which was ours and unlocked the trunk on a four-year-old Taurus with Nevada plates.
I went to put my bag in. Dad blocked my view into the trunk with his body. “On the back seat,” he barked.
More secrets. I frowned. He was giving me nothing, as usual. Nothing was ever a picnic with dad. It was better to sit back and just enjoy the ride.
I dumped my bag on the back seat and slipped into the passenger seat while Dad fiddled with something in the trunk. The Ford rocked with his efforts. I stared at his form in the vanity mirror on the back of my sunshade. The open trunk
shielded his body. I caught flashes of movement in the gap created by the trunk’s door hinges. When he was finished, he joined me in the car.
“Where did the car come from?”
“Business contacts.” He gunned the engine.
Dad didn’t use a map. He knew where he was going, which was more than I could say. We ended up in Mid-town, close to the rail lines. I was getting used to the unusual. I wasn’t surprised to find we weren’t holed up in a Radisson. Dad parked behind a three-story Victorian.
We unloaded the car. I grabbed my bag off the back seat and dad retrieved his overnight and duffel from the trunk. He hadn’t checked in a duffel at the airport.
“Don’t forget the groceries.”
I gathered up the box. We’d trawled the aisles of a local Raley’s, dad singling out the damnedest things. He picked up coffee, a coffee pot, caffeine pills, a can opener, canned goods, energy bars, camp chairs, a camp stove and other
assorted oddities. I examined our eclectic buys as I followed him to the back steps.
Dad opened the door, using a key he’d removed from a manila envelope marked, “Keys.” We let ourselves in. The place was empty and smelled musty. I went to put the groceries in the kitchen, but dad stopped me.
“Not there.”
“Where then?”
“Upstairs. We won’t be out of our room much.” Dad picked the mail up off the doormat. “This way.”
We settled into a third-floor bedroom facing the street with no bathroom…and no bed. I dumped the groceries on the floor, glad to be relieved of the weight, and let my bag slip off my shoulder.
Dad put down the mail and descended on the groceries, taking what he wanted. I noticed the letters weren’t addressed to him. I’d never heard of Alfred Taylor.
“We’ve got power, so get some coffee going.”
I did as I was told.
While I made coffee, dad positioned the camp in the front window. He adjusted the Venetian blinds to slits and dropped into one of the chairs. From the duffel, he pulled out two pairs of binoculars. One pair he put on the other chair for
me. The last of his preparations was to place a notebook and pen in the chair’s side pocket.
“Dad, what are we doing here?”
He didn’t reply. Instead, he focused the binoculars on a house outside. Some might have thought my father hadn’t heard me over the brewing coffee pot, but I knew better. The whitening of his knuckles was all the acknowledgement I needed.
He’d answer when he was ready.
“Coffee, dad.” I took my seat next to my father and placed a mug on the floor, next to his chair.
Dad kept the binoculars trained. “See that battleship-gray, two-story across the street?”
The house directly opposite ours was of the same era as the Victorian we’d taken up residence in, but was in better condition. Mature eucalyptus trees, shedding their bark, marked the corners of the lot.
“Yeah, what about it?”
“I want you to watch it. Don’t take your eyes off it.”
“What am I watching it for?”
“We’re looking for a man.”
“Who?”
“I’ll tell you when we see him. Now, just watch.”
Obviously, our business in Sacramento had nothing to do with a trade show, a client, or the hardware industry in general. “Are we on a stakeout?”
Dad exhaled and a growl crept out with it. “Just shut up and do as I tell you. Use your ears and your eyes and maybe, just maybe, you’ll learn something. Okay?”
“Okay.”
My question had been redundant. Of course we were on a stakeout. I’d seen enough cop films to know, but that was where my dilemma lay. Why were we staking out some stranger’s house? Was Dad a cop or a fed? Was that why he kept his life
so secret? But my gut told me otherwise. With paralyzing, arthritic fear, I guessed we weren’t on the side of the angels. My father, and now I, was playing for the black hats. I picked up the binoculars and studied the house across
the street.


Twenty minutes ticked by. Nothing happened. People passed. Vehicles passed. But no one stopped at the gray house across the street. I checked my watch. It was twenty after four. If our guy was a regular working stiff, then I reckoned he wasn’t going to be home for another hour. I put the binoculars on the windowsill and stood and stretched, moaning as I did so.
“Did I say you could get up?” dad growled from behind the binoculars.
“No, but nothing’s happening and nothing’s gonna for an hour or so.”
“Sit down.”
“Dad, come on.”
“Sit the fuck down. You’re killing my concentration.”
There was no point in arguing. I retook my seat.
“You can have a two minute break every hour.”
Just before five, the mailman came. Dad noted the time in the notebook. Six o’clock came and went, but dad got excited at seven-oh-two.
“This is him.”
I stiffened in my seat.
“Look at him. Study him. Be sure you’d recognize him in a crowd.”
I snatched my binoculars and trained them on the man heading for the gray house. The sun had gone down but there was good street lighting. He was around forty, soft looking with a paunch and spectacles. He was nothing spectacular and I couldn’t understand why he deserved all the attention.
Dad didn’t speak until the man went inside the house. “Right, this is what we’ve been waiting for. We watch Spectacles. If you want a piss, do it now. I need both our eyes on him. We can’t make a move until we know exactly when he comes and goes. Understand?”
I nodded.
Spectacles didn’t act like he was expecting a stakeout. He was far too relaxed. He entered his house and put the lights on. One by one the rooms lit up. He didn’t even bother to pull the drapes. For two hours we watched him go about his business, watching TV with his feet up, eating dinner and drinking juice straight from the bottle. At nine-fifteen, he left the house.
“Do we follow?”
Dad shook his head.
“Don’t we want to know where he’s going?”
“He can fuck alley cats for all I care; I just want to know his habits while he’s here.”
“Shall I get some food on?”
“No. I need you to keep watch.” He handed me the notebook. “I’m going out.”
Dad slipped his jacket on.
“Where you going?”
Dad frowned and left.
The door slammed and I returned to my task. My jaw dropped. Dad was walking south on Spectacles’ side of the street.
When he came to Spectacles’ house, he ducked inside the side alley and disappeared into the backyard. Five minutes later, he rejoined the street and continued walking south. I waited for his return.
Retaking his seat, dad said, “You can get that food going.”
“Why’d you go to his house?”
“Food,” dad insisted.
“Dad, I can’t learn by just watching. I need some explanation.”
Dad mulled the idea over. “Okay. When the time comes, we can’t let him get away. If he bolts, I need to know if he has an escape route. He doesn’t. He’s boxed in by six-foot fences. Now, food.”
Dad didn’t want people thinking anyone was living in the Victorian, so I had to make the food in the rear of the house.
I heated two cans of pork and beans on the camper stove and brewed more coffee. We ate our food in silence and in the dark, watching an empty house do nothing. Regardless of our cause, glamour wasn’t part of the job description.
“Take these,” dad said, tapping my arm.
He gave me four caffeine tablets. I took them with the coffee, hoping to wash away the artificial, canned flavor of my dinner.
“We’re gonna have to stay awake all night and all of tomorrow.”
I frowned.
“But seeing as there’s two of us, we can afford to take shifts. As long as you don’t fuck up.”
Just like dad. No concession came without a price.
“Remember, if you did this alone, you wouldn’t get the luxury of sleep or toilet facilities. You’d eat, piss and shit where you sat. You’re getting off easy.”
Lesson over, we settled back into the routine of window gazing. However, I found I wasn’t glazing over so much. I kept sharp by not simply staring at the house but examining the environment. I catalogued the image outside the window, reading the outside world the same way I would read a line of text. And with stunning admiration, I came to realize how my dad could just sit for hours on end.
Time passed as swiftly as molasses on a blanket. As weekday nightlife drew to a close, traffic dried to a trickle. By one-thirty, street activity had been reduced to black and whites on routine patrols.
I checked my watch. It was nearly four and still no sign of Spectacles. Apparently, he was a night owl.
“What if he doesn’t come home?” I asked.
“He will.”
“But what if he doesn’t?”
“He has no reason not to. He didn’t leave with anything, so it’s unlikely he’s done a runner. So, he’ll come home and we’ll wait.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Dad examined me up and down. “Take a break. Get some sleep.”
“What if he comes?”
Dad’s face creased--his closest impression to a smile. “A second ago you were wondering if he wouldn’t return.”
“Yeah, well…”
“If you’re going to be any good at this game, you’ve got to learn patience and how to roll with the punches. If he comes, I’ll call ya.”
“Okay.” I bunked down on the floor, thinking I was too full of caffeine to sleep, but I was dead to the world within minutes.
Dad woke me at seven-fifteen. It seemed as if I’d been asleep for minutes rather than hours and I felt the worse for it. I collapsed into my seat.
“He’s back,” he said.
Spectacles let himself into his house. He didn’t bother with breakfast. He went straight to bed.
“I hope this is the start of a pattern,” dad said.
And it was. For the next three days, Spectacles was as regular as oat bran. He left at nine in the evening and returned around seven a.m. He slept in, went for a late breakfast and ran errands. We did indeed have ourselves a pattern.
Spectacles had just left for his fourth night when dad said, “We’re doing this thing in the morning.”
“What thing?”
“Get our shit together and pack up the car. When it’s done, get your head down. We’ve got an early start. You’ll know all you need to know in the morning.”
I didn’t argue and did as I was told. I packed our junk in the car. The duffel was the last thing left and I got as far as grabbing the handles when Dad’s pipe wrench grip crushed my wrist.
“Leave it,” he growled. “This one stays.”
I left it.
We slept. It was the first time in days. So far, I’d snatched the odd hour here and there, relying on caffeine and adrenaline to keep me going. My heart had been redlining since the second day and a caffeine headache slammed me every three or four hours. I felt as though someone had crapped in my head and forgotten to flush.
But not dad. I don’t know how he did it. Like me, he could have won Sacramento’s Mr. Hobo pageant, but his focus was still razor-keen. Just looking at him drained me.
Dad woke me with a tap and a “Hey!”
He wasn’t tapping me with his hand but the butt of an automatic. I recoiled from the weapon, sleep confusing the situation.
“Take it.” Dad thrust the pistol at me.
I took it, sliding my index finger over the trigger. Dad released his hold and I took the weight of the gun unassisted.

“You’ve fired a .45 before, haven’t you?”
A few years back, my brothers and I had spent a year in the reserves at dad’s request, where we’d been taught how to use firearms. He said it was our duty--but our duty to whom?
“I’ve fired a Colt before,” I replied.
Which was true, but nothing like the Colt I held. Our drill sergeants would not have been impressed with the piece of hardware I was examining. The .45 was old and worn. The oil-black grip showed bare metal and covered in scuffs and scratches. It looked like it had been used as a makeshift hammer.
“Don’t worry about its condition. It’s been cleaned and checked out.”
“What do I need a gun for, dad?”
“Come here.”
I stood next to my father at the window.
“We’re going to park in front of Spectacles’ house and wait for him. When he goes for his keys, we’ll shoot him.”
“Shoot him?”
“Put at least four or five shots in him. Don’t rely on one. Put the shots in the back of his head. If you think you’ll miss--put ‘em in his back.”
“Dad!”
“Ditch the guns there. We don’t keep mementos.”
“Mementos? Christ, dad, you’re talking about murder.”
Dad’s hand shot out and snatched my throat. His momentum slammed me against the wall and he stuck his automatic against my temple.
“We’re not talking about murder. We’re talking about a professional hit. I’m a shooter--that’s what I do. I kill who I’ve been told to kill. You can be a shooter, too--if you’ve got the guts for it? If you don’t, I’ll put a bullet in you now.” Dad snapped off the safety. “So, what’s it to be?”
I’d already given him his answer. He looked down and smiled. My Colt was jammed in his guts. His gun slipped to his side and his throttling grasp changed into a pat on the cheek.
“You’ll do. You’re ready. Let’s go.”
If I followed I would be crossing a line, one from which I couldn’t return. I went without trepidation. Why, I don’t know, but I did, without a second thought. I was going to kill a man I didn’t know. And I wasn’t bothered.
***
We waited in the car for Spectacles, outside his home. We had the windows open. It was a pleasure to breathe air instead of the stench of our own breath, sweat and gas.
Ten to seven. He’d be along any minute.
“Why aren’t we wearing gloves?”
“No need. We don’t have rap sheets. The cops only have DMV records to fall back on, then they’ve only got a thumbprint and we’re out of state. Essentially, we’re foreigners.”
“What about the guns?”
“Don’t sweat it. These guns have had so many owners that the poor bastards who legally owned them won’t remember when they were stolen.”
I didn’t have to ask who our employer was. These weren’t the tactics of the law enforcement agencies. Organized crime operated this way.
“He’s here.”
Spectacles walked straight towards us. He didn’t notice us and reached inside his pants for his keys.
“We go when he’s got his back to us. Don’t chase him. We do this on the porch.”
I couldn’t speak. My brain blistered with adrenaline. I was tense and my finger tightened on the trigger. My gaze followed Spectacles up the path to his front door.
“Go.”
We slipped out of the car. Stray vehicles sped by. The sidewalks were clear. We strode with conviction, power and pace. We knew our job and we were going to do it.
Spectacles stuck his keys in the lock. We were ten feet behind, at the base of the porch. We didn’t give him a warning. We just opened fire.
My dad and I, for once not father and son or boss and employee, but partners, pumped bullet after bullet into Spectacles. I didn’t falter. I went for the head, like my father. Spectacles’ skull disintegrated. Globs of brain and bone splattered the front door.
Ten shots had made oatmeal of his head and we dropped the automatics before Spectacles hit the ground. Our job was done.
We raced back to the car. A dumbstruck woman walking her dog was rooted to the spot. She stared directly at us, but I saw a blank sheet behind her eyes. She wouldn’t remember a thing when the cops got to her. Dad gunned the engine and floored it.
We went straight to the airport and left the car exactly where we’d found it. Dad told me we didn’t have to worry about the car or our camp gear. The car and contents would be disposed of and the Victorian would be sanitized. He would pay me out of his share. None of that information was important. What counted was what he said last.
“You did good, Vincent, real good. I’m proud of you.”



Seven months later, summer ran off overnight and fall stood in. It wasn’t snowing but it wasn’t far away. I’d already joined dad on another hit. It went more smoothly than the first and I learned even more. Dad’s phone had been ringing a lot lately. But he hadn’t gone on any business trips and neither had I. He took the
calls in his usual manner and I, like everyone else, was locked out. I knew there was a problem and I wasn’t happy to sit back.
Thursday afternoons dad always went to the bank, so I followed. He took care of business inside while I parked in a red zone across the street and waited. Normally, he returned to the store, but this time, he didn’t. He took the highway
out of town. Twenty miles out, he pulled into a rest stop.
I don’t know if he knew I was shadowing him but it seemed like it. I followed him into the rest stop and parked as far back as I could. I watched him. He did nothing. He sat and gazed at a bleak sky rolling by. I got out.
The F-150’s passenger window was open and I leaned through. “Dad?”
He turned and I pumped three rounds into his face, blowing out the driver’s side window. I left the .357 on the bench seat next to him and raced back to my car.
Dad had slipped up in Vegas the year before. The Feds had made indictments. They had a blood trail and eventually it would lead back to him. The trail had to stop.
I knew this from the call. I’d answered dad’s phone. He’d been out and the damn thing had rung for ten minutes straight. They’d thought I was him. Maybe our voices did sound alike. When they’d realized who I was, they offered me a promotion and I accepted.
Now, when the phone rings in the store, it’s me they wait for. No one answers Vincent’s phone.


The End

Bio: Simon Wood (www.simonwood.net) is a California transplant from England. In the last six years, he's had three books, and over 130 stories and articles published. A number of his stories have appeared in “Best of” anthologies and his non-fiction has appeared in Writer’s Digest. His next book is the thriller, Accidents Waiting To Happen, from Dorchester/Leisure coming out March '07.

Ruth and I have been interviewed again, this time over on Julia Buckley’s Blog. It seems since it's summer time that it is appropriate that we are getting grilled.....

Tuesday night Ruth and I will be interviewed on MWA On The Air.

To hear the interview all you have to do is dial a toll free number.

8:00 PM Central time dial 1-866-212-7554
At the prompt punch in 7629501#

At this point all you have to do is wait and listen and at some point I'm sure I'll say something dopey and entertaining.
At the end of the interview they do allow questions.



And don't forget, Monday night Ken Bruen on Craig Ferrgusan's Late Late show.

The shelves are filled with new books for summer reading.
Here are some of the new titles out now:

Gary Disher has a new book called CHAIN OF EVIDENCE
and also a trade version of SNAPSHOT both from SOHO Crime.
Both feature Inspector Hal Challis and are set in Australia.
CHAIN OF EVIDENCE has two cases working, on involving
Challis's return home to see his dying father and the finding
of his missing brother in law's body.
Meanwhile Sergeant Destry is workin on a pedophile case.
SNAPSHOT involves murder and wife swapping and Challis
is being hindered by his boss who is related to one of the victims.
Disher is a wonderful author and both these books should please
mystery fans.

UP IN HONEY'S ROOM (William Morrow)from Elmore Leonard is just the ticket
for relaxed warm weather reading. Continuing the adventures
of Carl Webster from the book THE HOT KID, this is another
non stop action book set in Oklahoma, this time involving Nazi
POW's. This is Leonard's 41st novel. Perfect summer reading!

The adventures of Jason Bourne contine in Robert Ludlam's
series now being written by Eric Van Lustbander. The latest
is called THE BOURNE BETRAYAL (Warner Books)Ludlam's
original trilogy featuring Bourne were great fun and true thrillers.
Van Lustbander is the right choice for continuing the series and
he really gets the character. Great Thriller!

Antoher ass kicking thriller in Martin Cruz Smith's latest in the
Arkady Renko series STALIN'S GHOST (Simon and Schuster).
This is one of the best series to be set in Russia ( along with
the books by Stuart Kaminsky) and Smith has an uncanny knack
for making the reader feel like they are there. First introduced
in GORKY PARK, Renko is a true stereo typical Russian,
melacholy, hard working and dis-enchanted. In this outing
Stalin's ghost is being seen and maybe making a comeback.
Steeped in history this is a wonderful book. Do not miss this.

HOOKED by Matt Richtel (Twleve, an imprint of Grand Central
Publishing)is a debut novel that is highly suspenseful and a
thriller of the first magnitude. Revolving around the hight tech
world we live in the book opens with the visit of a dead girl
friend saving Nat Idle from an explosion. From there it picks
up the pace. Touching on our addiction to all things tech, this
book will freak you out.

A new series from the wonderful Rhys Bowen, HER ROYAL
SPYNESS (Berkley) features Lady Victoria Georgina Charlotte
Eugenie. A wonderful traditional mystery set in the 1930's London
this book is a pure joy to read. Bowen has created yet another
wonderful series.

Already reviewed in Crimespree I wanted to mention again Con
Lehane's new book DEATH AT THE OLD HOTEL (St. Martin's
Minator). I love Con Lehane's writing and this is such a great series.
I feel it is over looked, and I urge you not to miss it. Our favorite
bartender Brian McNulty is once again caught up in a murder
investigation while trying to help his buddies.
This series is alot of fun to read and COn Lehane is one of my
favorites.

Stella Rimington's second work of fiction is SECRET ASSEST
(Knopf). A real life spook herself this book scream reality.
Fast paced and not stop pacing make this another great
summer read. A mole with in MI-5 is interferring with
investigations into a terroist threat. The clock is ticking as the
mole needs to be found before the real threat can be stopped.

Idaho, assasins, and ticking clock make KILLER WEEKEND(Putnam)
from Ridley Pearson one not to be missed.Possibly his best thriller to
date this book moves as fast as a professional water skier on perfect
water. Politics and agencies not being able to cooperate add to the
perfect mix fo an exciting read.

And last but defintily not least another Tucker Sinclair adventure from
Patricia Smiley, SHORT CHANGE ( NAL) is the latest in her on
going series. Humourous, smart and wonderfully witty this is a
great read. Tucker has quit working for the corporate world
and that may prove to be a mistake. She's helping a PI and
the case they end up working on could be her first and last.
Great fun!

Banacek : The First Season
Hart Sharp Video


Banacek started on the air in 1972 as part of NBC's Wednesday Night Mystery Line up. It starred George Peppard as a Polish
American detecive who specialized in the recovery of things insured by a Boston Insurance Company. He made 10% of the value as hid
fee.

The show was created by Richard Levinson and William Link who also brought to the small screen such classics as Mannix (which is
screaming for DVD release), Columbo and Ellery Queen.

Banacek (as a character) had it all, great clothes, wonderful cars, good looks, suave with the ladies who all wanted him and great
detective skills. As a show Banacek also had it all. A great detective, interesting plots, some fun action ans wonderful location shots in
Boston. Banacek also had occasional help from a bookseller buddy named Felix Mulholland who owned a Rare bookstore and his
chauffer, a New Yorker who was a bit rougher around the edges.

It's a fun show that holds up pretty well, and it is definitly a big part of the history of the Television PI.

Jon

Labels: DVD Reviews

I am frustrated. I am chagrined. But it all comes back to the phone call.
"It's a great book."

And so it is. Do yourself a favor, put it on your Summer Reading list. The truest corse in published fiction is the individual interaction with a writer's prose. THE GRAVE TATTOO is an adventure every reader can enjoy, written by someone who enjoys words and their craft as much as you do. Add Wordsworth, Fletcher Christen, an inner city youth and cut throat academia and you won't go wrong despite the actions of the author's publisher.

Books Sales are something that all uber fans of our genre are aware of. We want the folks we like to read to sell enough books to be asked to write another one. It's that simple. When you're a rabid fan and know a fav has a book out you're going to look at the New York Times Best Seller list. There are more accurate lists out there and there are lists that better trace the momentum of a novel. But the be all, tell all list is and will probably always be the NYTBSL. It's an acronym.

This week I was very interested in the list. And I was informed. Not by publicists or insiders but by a road trip. I knew that Crimespree favorites Lee Child(BAD LUCK AND TROUBLE) and John Connolly both had books coming out. I knew that the wonderful Charlaine Harris newest Skookie Stackhouse(ALL TOGETHER DEAD) had dropped the week before and I was in airports on drop day. Mr. Child's book was being given front and center in Baltimore but in Milwaukee they brought in more of James Pattersons books and kept him front and center. Then it was time to windowshop Baltimore's inner harbour. Lee had a stackout at Barnes and Noble just inside the front entrance. Charlaine had an endcap on the new releases shelving but the happy news for me was John's book, "THE UNQUIET" had been picked for the 20% (members get 30) pick of the week. And in airports, bookstores and the news there was James Patterson. Paperback, Backlist, and the newest, THE 6TH TARGET. Also prominent were Baldacchi, Picoult, Chabon, and Tolkien. Harlan Coben commanded top shelf status. The biggest surprise to me was the continued shelf support of Robert Crais's THE WATCHMAN. In this three week shelf life mentality, Crais's book was still being supported.

And so I looked at the list this morning. And I'm happy for Lee (debuting at #2 this year) and Charlaine (still strong at 16 with an asterik) on week 2. I'm really excited by John Connolly's # 19 on the extended list. He hasn't started touring yet, reviews are just coming in and he's a salesman. His charm and the quality of the book should see this through to his best American sales ever.

There were some very cool other results on the list too. For those who talk Cover, Shelf Placement, and Big Backing as the only thing that matters know that while I saw little of Sandford's INVISIBLE PREY prominently displayed he's at #3. Fans do care. They will seek out their favorites even if they are on the third shelf down.

The sheer number of crime fiction books on the list is also gratifying to any mystery/thriller fan. I count 17 clear cut genre books on the Times list of 35. Ah summer; murder, serial killers, cozies, and global destruction.
And the coolest thing of all, C.J. Box's FREE FIRE making the extended list when his tour hasn't begun to swing yet.

Time at the airports and big bookstores also made me realize how hard it truly is. The sheer number of quality authors who don't get either the print runs, promises from CostCo, or advertising they need to begin to be on the list is heartbreaking. I'll celebrate those whose work I've loved making the list, being on the list at a higher number or just selling more books this time out. But the part of me that is Crimespree will also cheer on the next wave, wait for the next quality writer to emerge upon the list and in the retail outlets in a full on Book Bouquet. It's Memorial Day Weekend, celebrate by visiting a bookstore buying a favorite who's made the list and a favorite who you have to bend down to grab. We ain't lemmings damnit and this weekend we have time to read two.
Ruth

What made a group of renowned movie, theater and book people decide to try
something as grand as THE FIRST ANNUAL INTERNATIONAL MYSTERY
CONVENTION? What made Blake Edwards and Sue Grafton commit to a
week in Kentucky promoting Crime and Theater?
Crimespree is all about the books. When given an opportunity to interview an
assortment of the folk involved I asked the organizers of TFAIMC to get
in touch with two of Mystery's elite, James Hall and Stuart Kaminsky. These
are two gentlemen who've not only provided the world of mystery with
impressive and excellent catalogs of their own work, but have also taught our
genre with such a passion that they have influenced, inspired and given many
of today's premiere crime writers their first taste of constructing the novel we
all hold dear. They both gave me the same answer, " Zev Buffman told me
about the project and asked me to become involved."

And Zev's motivation?
He took the time last week to sit down and answer a few Crimespree
questions. Here is the beginning of our conversation.

Ruth Jordan: What a daunting idea, What made River Center decide to attack
such an ambitious project?

Zev Buffman: 4 years ago, I was still living in southern California I had a
number of discussions with Angela Lansbury, William Link (creator of Murder
she Wrote, Columbo, Mannix), a couple of Broadway directors and a major
"super agent" of the William morris Agency (Samuel "Biff Liff"). The topic was
the near total disappearance of Stage Mysteries from Broadway, London and
Toronto stages. Mysteries, we agreed became an endangered species! I am
a veteran Broadway Producer with some forty productions to my record. I felt
that there was room for a New Mystery Writers Festival was overdue. Shortly
thereafter, I moved to a great performing Arts center in Owensboro, KY to
take over as President/CEO. One of the first announcements was that we
were going to launch this annual festival and include not only plays but
screenplays and Teleplays. Within the year of submissions we received
nearly 1000 new works! The AP ran a an initial story about the Festival and
was picked up by hundreds of newspapers around the world -- we knew then
we had a project whose time has come!

R.J.) I'm truly impressed with your list of judges and special guests, obviously
a lot of people agree with you that this is an event whose time has come.
What did it feel like when the yesses started coming in?

Z.B.)The Yesses were inspiring! Good/Great writers with bests seller history,
published in 20 countries and many languages, agreed to join -- not by name
only, but to "work" the Festival in many capacities. I felt liberated, I had a
whole team of leaders who would take on the most complex project of my
long and adventurous career.

R.J.) Because in the end, the play(s) the thing, discuss the logistics. How
many thespians & crew members are descending upon your town, and how
many folk are already in place working on this project?

Z.B.) This is the mind boggling part of it all. Imagine watching the Kentucky
Derby where 12 well trained horses explode out of the starting gate at the
same time, after months of training preparation, strategizing etc.;
Well, Think about 12 new works, never presented before, with 12 casts, 12
directors, 48 designers, 120 technicians All world premiering in the same
week!
How many people? including marketing, hospitality, book Signing celeb
guests, the Classic outdoor movie mystery nightly showings, the master
classes, the 50 students working as interns, security, ushers, Set builders
Costume makers, I could on for a long time --- about 500 people will be
involved and work for pay, plus 250 volunteers! about 100 of us have been
"on it" for 5-6 months now, The numbers will continue to grow quickly as we
get closer to opening. Out of the 500 paying jobs about 350 are local and 150
are from out of town.
Every hotel room will be booked, restaurant filled, BBQ, BLUE Grass and
BOURBON enjoyed. a real mystery Happening! This is the Stratford, Shaw
and Sundance (with a dash of Woodstock) of MYSTERIES -- can you see it?
Do, you hear it? JUST BE SURE YOU DON'T MISS