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Charlie Bradshaw is no Magnum, PI. Magnum is youngish, fit, trim, handsome. Charlie Bradshaw is middle-aged, balding, paunchy. Magnum drives a Ferrari; Charlie drives an aging, somewhat-the-worse-for-wear Mazda. Magnum lives in Honolulu; Charlie lives in Saratoga, a small town in upstate New York. Magnum gets his pick of Hawaii’s bodacious babes; Charlie has only recently moved in with a single mother of two teenage girls.

Charlie used to be a cop, but he had the uncanny knack for opening his mouth at the wrong time, to the wrong people. The chief of police would like nothing better than to yank Charlie’s private investigator license; there has been no love lost between them for years. Charlie’s relatives are all wealthy conservative business-types, pillars of the community; they all look down their noses at Charlie. Required by custom to give him the time of day, they will give him precious little else. So Charlie skates through his life on the thinnest of ice, eking out a living with security work, the occasional investigation, and odd jobs for the criminal element connected with the horseracing for which Saratoga is famous.

Charlie’s best friend is retiree Victor (” . . . call me Vic”) Plotz, a cheerful old codger with an eye for a scam and an easy buck. Vic gets recruited by an old mobster to retrieve a suitcase from Montreal. Upon delivery, the mobster will pay Vic two thousand dollars. If this sounds too good to be true, well, it is. Vic can’t help but tear apart the suitcase to find out just what kind of trouble he may be inviting. In the false bottom of the case he finds money lots of it. Concerned for his continued well-being, Vic calls Charlie. Charlie removes a hundred dollar bill from one of the stacks and checks it out while Vic delivers the balance. The hundred turns out to be counterfeit, and worse yet, the mobster discovers it missing. Hijinks ensue.

Written from the point of view of Vic Plotz, Dobyns’s latest has a different feel from the Charlie Bradshaw novels that precede it: a bit more tongue-in-cheek, the characterizations a little more broadly drawn. Unlike the previous Saratoga novels, in Saratoga Strongbox the central character is Vic, rather than Charlie. (This sort of thing is not without precedent in Dobyns’s work; he is no stranger to unusual perspective. In his excellent Aftershocks and Near Escapes he wrote from the point of view of a six-year-old Chilean girl caught in a massive earthquake in the early 1960s.) It makes for an interesting shift, revisiting the “same old story with a different twist.” Reviewed by Bruce Tierney.

Charlie Bradshaw is no Magnum, PI. Magnum is youngish, fit, trim, handsome. Charlie Bradshaw is middle-aged, balding, paunchy. Magnum drives a Ferrari; Charlie drives an aging, somewhat-the-worse-for-wear Mazda. Magnum lives in Honolulu; Charlie lives in Saratoga, a small town in upstate New York. Magnum gets his pick of Hawaii’s bodacious babes; Charlie has only recently […]
Review by

Several years ago there was an actor, a former bodybuilder, who starred in some B-grade movies. While these films had made money, they really hadn’t taken his career to the next level. Then his agent sent him a script, a science fiction story about a man who is sent into the past to prevent an assassination. Would he be interested in playing the hero? The bodybuilder was muscular, but he wasn’t stupid; the part he really wanted, he told the agent, was that of the assassin. The agent pitched this to the director, James Cameron, and the bodybuilder, Arnold Schwarzenegger, became The Terminator and a star.

Let’s face it, in movies and in literature the villain is often the most interesting character. Look at John Milton’s Paradise Lost the devil gets all the good lines. So it is in Daniel Silva’s new novel, The Mark of the Assassin, a thriller set against the background of modern-day geopolitics and the covert war waged by intelligence agencies behind the scenes. A war that is suddenly made hotter by the actions of one man, a freelance killer for hire with a trademark signature three bullets in the face.

CIA operative Michael Osbourne is drawn into this war when a jumbo jet is shot down over Long Island. A middle-east expert, Osbourne is called in when the body of a known terrorist is found near the crash site with three bullet holes in its face. The evidence points to a Palestinian splinter group, but Osbourne isn’t so sure. What follows is an investigation that takes him to three continents as he unravels a startling conspiracy, and puts him on a collision course with the assassin known only as October.

The Mark of the Assassin shines is in its portrayal of October, otherwise known as Jean-Paul Delaroche, a deep-cover Soviet killer without portfolio. At least without a killer’s portfolio. Delaroche does have a portfolio of sorts he is also a painter who takes his art seriously. Indeed, there are many layers to Delaroche, and I liked the fact that as many things as Silva shows us, we never quite find out what makes the assassin tick. The one gripe I have with this book, and this is really not against Daniel Silva specifically, but to the authors of all thrillers, is the need to make up what I call the “Presidential cast of characters,” that is “President Smith,” “Secretary of State Jones,” etc. If they’re peripheral characters, write ’em out, I say. Use real politicians. It worked marvelously for Frederick Forsythe in The Day of the Jackal. It could have worked here. At any rate, the real story in The Mark of the Assassin is the assassin himself. Reviewed by James Neal Webb.

Several years ago there was an actor, a former bodybuilder, who starred in some B-grade movies. While these films had made money, they really hadn’t taken his career to the next level. Then his agent sent him a script, a science fiction story about a man who is sent into the past to prevent an […]
Behind the Book by

It was a leaden, wintry Sunday afternoon two years ago, and Don Davidoff and I were supposed to be brainstorming ideas for our fourth Dr. Peter Zak mystery we share the pseudonym G. H. Ephron. Instead, Don was enthusing about a new magnetic resonance imaging scanner that had recently arrived at McLean Hospital, the psychiatric hospital where he runs an inpatient unit. This was not just any scanner. “It’s a 3.5 tesla,” he said. Teslas? I hadn’t a clue what those were. But if Don thought 3.5 of them were a lot, then I knew enough to be impressed. “What if . . . ” Don began. Obsessed with the brain since he first dissected one in graduate school, he was off, speculating. Could an up-close look at functioning brain cells reveal signs of dementia long before intellect began to noticeably decay? Don’s enthusiasm was contagious. We could use this in the book, I thought. Magnetic resonance imaging could be the backdrop for a story about a brilliant doctor whose research is driven by the tantalizing idea that dementia can be diagnosed and treated early. I began taking notes. By the end of the afternoon, we had a premise, a rough plot outline and a working title: Obsessed. During the week, I massaged the outline and e-mailed it to Don. That’s how our partnership has worked for the past eight years. We meet every Sunday, moving from general idea to broad outline to specific scenes. I bring the characters to life, create the drama and suspense, sprinkle the red herring, while Don lives, eats and breathes the issues we weave through our books. Lower-case amnesia, addiction and delusion have all turned into upper-case book titles. Obsessed, our latest, explores a range of obsessions from psychosexual stalking to obsessive hoarding to apotemnophilia (the desire to be an amputee). As in all our books, we examine what goes on in the mind and how that shapes the reality a person creates.

Our partnership is based on a 30-year friendship, and works precisely because we have virtually no overlapping skills. When we started to work together, Don was afraid I was going to make him write. It took me a while to realize that I’d been afraid he was going to want to write. That surprised me, because I’d spent decades insisting that I was not a writer.

I come from a family of formidable literary talents. My parents were Hollywood screenwriters Henry and Phoebe Ephron (Carousel; Desk Set). My sisters Nora, Delia and Amy are all novelists and screenwriters. But I didn’t try my hand at the family business until about 10 years ago. That’s when a freelancer called. She wanted to write an article about me because I was, as she pointed out, “the only one who didn’t write.” I was shocked to hear myself shoot back, “If anyone’s going to write about me not writing, it’s going to be me.” Soon after that, my husband and I were having dinner with Don and his wife, Susan. Maybe it was too much wine, but by the end of the evening, Don and I had agreed to collaborate on a mystery series with a central character based loosely on Don.

“My better half,” is what Don calls Peter Zak, who is a little taller, a little younger and a little more conventionally handsome than his prototype. Like Don, a neuropsychologist, Dr. Zak runs a unit at a psychiatric hospital, and spends time in jails in four-by-four cubicles evaluating people accused of murder. That’s Don’s voice when Dr. Zak says, “A lot of people who end up accused of serious crimes are poor schnooks, in the wrong place at the wrong time, who rarely get an adequate defense.” I remember one of our earliest working sessions. It was a gorgeous Sunday afternoon in late summer, and we were supposed to be coming up with an opening scene for Amnesia, the first series novel. Instead, Don was wishing he was out rowing on the Charles River. I hate boats, but I found myself mesmerized as Don described the Zen-like state of calm rowing brings him. “You’re pulling, harder and harder, until the stern clears the puddles before the oars dip again, and boat, body and mind become one,” he said. I didn’t know if the stern was the front or the back of the boat, and I wasn’t sure what he meant by “puddles,” but I was absolutely certain that our character was going to be a rower. I began taking notes.

Hallie Ephron and her coauthor, Dr. Don Davidoff, both live and work in Massachusetts. Their fifth novel, Obsessed (St. Martin’s, $24.95, 320 pages, ISBN 0312305311), released under the pen name G.H. Ephron, goes on sale this month.

It was a leaden, wintry Sunday afternoon two years ago, and Don Davidoff and I were supposed to be brainstorming ideas for our fourth Dr. Peter Zak mystery we share the pseudonym G. H. Ephron. Instead, Don was enthusing about a new magnetic resonance imaging scanner that had recently arrived at McLean Hospital, the psychiatric […]
Review by

Perhaps no one is more well known or respected as a modern day master of crime fiction than Robert B. Parker. Like Raymond Chandler and Dashiel Hammett, Parker has mastered the art of the hardboiled detective novel. He is best known for his tough but sensitive Boston private investigator Spenser. He has written over 20 Spenser novels, which spawned the 1980s television show Spenser: For Hire. With his latest book, Family Honor, Parker introduces an entirely new character a female P.

I. named Sunny Randall.

Sunny is a complex character: a former cop, college graduate, divorcee, and aspiring painter. Sunny is hired by a wealthy family to discreetly locate their daughter, who has run away. Tracking down the runaway Millicent does not prove to be difficult, but deciding what to do with her does. It appears that Millie’s problems are far greater than running away, and Sunny is now caught in the middle.

Unsure of what to do with Millie, Sunny finds herself acting as both bodyguard and surrogate mother, and occasionally as a moving target. It seems that a certain group of mobsters is also looking for Millie, and they have no problem taking out one female detective to get her. Fortunately Sunny is not without resources. Her ex-husband, Richie, is himself the son of a mobster, and her best friend, Spike, is an ominously dangerous gay man. With their help, Sunny delves into the mystery of why everyone wants Millie, all the while trying to teach her how to be a strong, independent woman.

Family Honor introduces what may be an ongoing series. Parker has created a number of engaging and well-thought-out characters in Sunny, Richie, and Spike. His writing style is short and to the point with very little extraneous exposition. And as with his other novels, the true joy of reading Parker is the stellar dialog. He writes the way people speak. There are no long speeches, no overly emotional outbursts; he writes it like it is. So intelligent and cutting are Sunny’s comments and come-backs, you’ll find yourself wishing you were as quick on your feet.

Family Honor is an enjoyable book that focuses more on the characters and their development than it does on the mystery surrounding them. While the mystery is interesting, it serves merely as a catalyst to propel the characters through the story. You may begin Family Honor for the story line, but you’ll finish it for Sunny Randall.

Wes Breazeale grew up in Robert B. Parker’s turf and now does research for a college in Oregon.

Perhaps no one is more well known or respected as a modern day master of crime fiction than Robert B. Parker. Like Raymond Chandler and Dashiel Hammett, Parker has mastered the art of the hardboiled detective novel. He is best known for his tough but sensitive Boston private investigator Spenser. He has written over 20 […]
Behind the Book by

Hyperion Books first talked with me about writing a novel tied to ABC’s daytime drama “One Life to Live” while I was co-head-writing the show. My first response was no. I didn’t want to do a novelization of the soap opera or a spin-off or a journal. Besides, there was already more than enough fiction for me to imagine in the world of “One Life” itself five hours of drama a week, 52 weeks a year of interlaced, multigenerational plots for a whole town full of people of every social and psychological ilk. That narrative range and abundance of character was what had drawn me, as a novelist, to writing soap opera. I loved its capacious canvas and its generic receptivity. But I couldn’t stop thinking about Hyperion’s suggestion, and about how soap opera might lend itself to the idea not of novelizing the show, but of writing a novel on the show. That was the genesis of The Killing Club.

We would watch a fictional character create a piece of fiction, a mystery novel, as a storyline on “One Life to Live.” We would watch the novel as it was being planned, and as it was written, and read, and finally published. The novel was “written” by Marcie Walsh (wonderfully played by the actress Kathy Briar), a smart, spunky young woman who attended “Llanview University” and worked as the receptionist at the Llanview police station. For her fiction, she drew upon as writers do people and events in her “real” life: the detectives and lawyers with whom she worked and the crimes she saw being investigated around her. As she caught the mystery bug, she read other mysteries (including one of mine) and she tried (sometimes with comic, sometimes with dangerous results) to solve crimes herself. Finally, encouraged by her doctor boyfriend and her crew of college friends, she decided to write her own book. The Killing Club is that novel. The plot evolved from an idea for a movie that my colleague at “One Life,” Josh Griffith, and I had had about a group of misfits in high school who have a club in which they imagine ingenious ways to murder their “enemies.” Then, 10 years later, one of the club members is murdered in just such a bizarre way. Then another club member dies. Then another. Who is killing the Killing Club? And why? On the show, a friend of Marcie’s sent the manuscript to Michael Malone, the novelist, a “professor at Llanview University.” Mr. Malone liked what he saw of Marcie’s book and decided to help her with it and then to find her a publisher. He sent the novel to Hyperion Books. They accepted it. Excitedly Marcie traveled to New York to meet Gretchen Young, who is the real editor of the real book, just as Chip Kidd, whom she was also thrilled to meet, is the real cover designer. The Killing Club was “published” on the show at the same time that it was published in “real life” mid-February. In the future, mysterious goings-on will happen in Marcie’s life that eerily reflect the plot of the novel. The creation of the novel, The Killing Club, over the past year on “One Life” has been, then, the creation of a fiction about a fiction inside a fiction. But it is also a “real” novel. In that regard, for me the challenge was, as always, the narrative voice. What sort of narrator would Marcie Walsh “create”? The voice turned out to be that of Jamie Ferrara, a young wisecracking homicide detective in the small town of Gloria, New Jersey, the working-class daughter of an Italian-American cop, and herself one of the founders of the Killing Club.

People ask me, is this a Marcie Walsh book or a Michael Malone book? I would answer that my books are Michael Malone books, but each evolves from the characters who inhabit it. The minute I hear the voice of a narrator, from word one of page one of a story, I am listening to that character’s voice. The narrator of Handling Sin is very different from that of The Last Noel, and Jamie Ferrara is very different from the Southern detective Cuddy Mangum in my Hillston novels. But they are all, I trust, equally at home in the landscape of my fiction.

Acclaimed novelist Michael Malone published his first book in 1975 and went on to write such Southern comic classics as Handling Sin. He has also written extensively for television, including two stints as head writer for the soap opera “One Life to Live.” In his latest book, The Killing Club, Malone combines both careers with fascinating and spine-tingling results.

Hyperion Books first talked with me about writing a novel tied to ABC’s daytime drama “One Life to Live” while I was co-head-writing the show. My first response was no. I didn’t want to do a novelization of the soap opera or a spin-off or a journal. Besides, there was already more than enough fiction […]
Review by

Is Nashville becoming a hotbed of mystery and suspense? You’d think so, judging from these two mysteries, both written by Nashville writers. Steven Womack’s Dirty Money doesn’t actually take place in Music City it takes place in and around Reno, Nevada but his private investigator, Harry James Denton, is from Nashville and the book is filled with references to the city.

Readers of Womack’s previous mysteries are familiar with Denton, a middle-aged investigative reporter-turned-private investigator who solves his cases with guile and persistence rather than violence or marksmanship.

Denton’s story begins as he is traveling west to be with a former girlfriend who is about to have his baby. Along the way, he is robbed by a pair of redneck road warriors who send him packing to a small town hospital where he meets a striking redhead who drives him into Reno and into the arms of his former girlfriend.

While visiting his ex and waiting for the baby to be born, Denton gets roped into going undercover at the Mustang Ranch, a world-famous house of prostitution, to gather evidence of a money laundering operation. A murder takes place at the brothel, and Denton is taken into custody by police as the prime suspect.

The remainder of the book consists of Denton’s efforts to clear himself, solve the money laundering case, wrap up his relationship with his ex, plant a seed of hope with the redhead, and then get the heck back to Nashville.

With Harry James Denton, Womack has created one of the most interesting detectives to surface in a long time. Denton is no slug ’em, cuff ’em up, and toss ’em into the slammer detective. He is a man with serious issues. Although he has a former girlfriend, flirts with the redhead, and is attracted to one of the prostitutes at the bordello, he seems to have problems with intimacy.

Womack is an excellent writer who knows how to merge character with plot, and fact with fantasy. Fans of Harry James Denton will hope to see him again and again. In Fall to Pieces, Cecelia Tishy’s detective is a former cop reporter named Kate Banning who gets trapped into working as an investigator for a country singer whose life has been threatened by a series of suspicious accidents. It’s Banning’s job to find out who wants the singer dead and why.

This mystery takes place in Nashville, and it is filled with references to the music industry. Tishy’s writing is crisp, and her character development is excellent. She doesn’t tell you who Kate Banning is she shows you in bits and pieces. Her research is off the mark on occasion (the Jordanaires provided background vocals for Elvis and were not his sidemen), but those are minor errors. Tishy is an English professor at Vanderbilt University, and her occasional missteps in the dirty world of country music can be overlooked.

Female detectives have become a staple of mystery novels, but Kate Banning is unique in many ways. She provides a female perspective on issues that previously have been the sole preserve of males.

I cannot recall ever suggesting that readers tackle two novels, one right after the other, but I am doing so in this case. Even better, I recommend that readers begin a letter writing campaign directed at Womack and Tishy. Somehow they need to figure out a way to get Kate Banning and Harry James Denton together in the same book, perhaps as investigative opponents. One thing is for certain: Kate Banning could help Harry James Denton with those intimacy issues.

Nashville writer James L. Dickerson is the author of a history about women in the music industry, Women on Top (Watson-Guptill), and a true-crime mystery, Dixie’s Dirty Secret (M.

E. Sharpe).

Is Nashville becoming a hotbed of mystery and suspense? You’d think so, judging from these two mysteries, both written by Nashville writers. Steven Womack’s Dirty Money doesn’t actually take place in Music City it takes place in and around Reno, Nevada but his private investigator, Harry James Denton, is from Nashville and the book is […]
Review by

Is Nashville becoming a hotbed of mystery and suspense? You’d think so, judging from these two mysteries, both written by Nashville writers. Steven Womack’s Dirty Money doesn’t actually take place in Music City it takes place in and around Reno, Nevada but his private investigator, Harry James Denton, is from Nashville and the book is filled with references to the city.

Readers of Womack’s previous mysteries are familiar with Denton, a middle-aged investigative reporter-turned-private investigator who solves his cases with guile and persistence rather than violence or marksmanship.

Denton’s story begins as he is traveling west to be with a former girlfriend who is about to have his baby. Along the way, he is robbed by a pair of redneck road warriors who send him packing to a small town hospital where he meets a striking redhead who drives him into Reno and into the arms of his former girlfriend.

While visiting his ex and waiting for the baby to be born, Denton gets roped into going undercover at the Mustang Ranch, a world-famous house of prostitution, to gather evidence of a money laundering operation. A murder takes place at the brothel, and Denton is taken into custody by police as the prime suspect.

The remainder of the book consists of Denton’s efforts to clear himself, solve the money laundering case, wrap up his relationship with his ex, plant a seed of hope with the redhead, and then get the heck back to Nashville.

With Harry James Denton, Womack has created one of the most interesting detectives to surface in a long time. Denton is no slug ’em, cuff ’em up, and toss ’em into the slammer detective. He is a man with serious issues. Although he has a former girlfriend, flirts with the redhead, and is attracted to one of the prostitutes at the bordello, he seems to have problems with intimacy.

Womack is an excellent writer who knows how to merge character with plot, and fact with fantasy. Fans of Harry James Denton will hope to see him again and again. In Fall to Pieces, Cecelia Tishy’s detective is a former cop reporter named Kate Banning who gets trapped into working as an investigator for a country singer whose life has been threatened by a series of suspicious accidents. It’s Banning’s job to find out who wants the singer dead and why.

This mystery takes place in Nashville, and it is filled with references to the music industry. Tishy’s writing is crisp, and her character development is excellent. She doesn’t tell you who Kate Banning is she shows you in bits and pieces. Her research is off the mark on occasion (the Jordanaires provided background vocals for Elvis and were not his sidemen), but those are minor errors. Tishy is an English professor at Vanderbilt University, and her occasional missteps in the dirty world of country music can be overlooked.

Female detectives have become a staple of mystery novels, but Kate Banning is unique in many ways. She provides a female perspective on issues that previously have been the sole preserve of males.

I cannot recall ever suggesting that readers tackle two novels, one right after the other, but I am doing so in this case. Even better, I recommend that readers begin a letter writing campaign directed at Womack and Tishy. Somehow they need to figure out a way to get Kate Banning and Harry James Denton together in the same book, perhaps as investigative opponents. One thing is for certain: Kate Banning could help Harry James Denton with those intimacy issues.

Nashville writer James L. Dickerson is the author of a history about women in the music industry, Women on Top (Watson-Guptill), and a true-crime mystery, Dixie’s Dirty Secret (M.

E. Sharpe).

Is Nashville becoming a hotbed of mystery and suspense? You’d think so, judging from these two mysteries, both written by Nashville writers. Steven Womack’s Dirty Money doesn’t actually take place in Music City it takes place in and around Reno, Nevada but his private investigator, Harry James Denton, is from Nashville and the book is […]
Behind the Book by
Tony Hillerman once inscribed a book to me with these words:

“For Rosemary – Who qualifies for the ‘Listening Woman’ title I once used.

–Tony Hillerman”

That inscription ranks with the most cherished compliments I have received in my life. But much as I love to know that he valued me as a good listener, I have to admit, it was easy to listen to Tony Hillerman. In fact, it was a breeze.

Like so many other people who came to know and love Tony Hillerman and his work, I first met him at a book-signing event. Working on assignment for a newspaper, I figured that while the occasion and the man would become indelible memories for me, I would be sure to fade into a sea of media faces in the mystery writer’s recollection.

I soon discovered that I was, as Tony would put it, “dead wrong.” I could not know then that I would have the privilege of co-editing The Oxford Book of American Detective Stories and A New Omnibus of Crime with this man.
 
When I was putting together my first book, The Fatal Art of Entertainment: Interviews with Mystery Writers (G.K. Hall, 1994), Tony was on my wish list of interviewees. It seemed a long shot but nevertheless I sat down and wrote a letter beginning, “Dear Mr. Hillerman . . .”
 
To my delight, I received an immediate reply, inviting me to interview the author in his home on the outskirts of Albuquerque, New Mexico. Arriving at his door after the long trip from Boston, Massachusetts, I again referred to the author as “Mr. Hillerman” as I greeted him.
 
“Well, Ms. Herbert, you can call me Tony,” he said, smiling. “But do you know, I appreciate that you called me ‘Mr. Hillerman.’ It was one of the things that made me remember you from that time you interviewed me in Cambridge, Massachusetts. I find that politeness refreshing.”
 
For my part, I found it intensely stimulating to hear Tony talk about his life and work in an interview that lasted for hours, during which he even showed me a manuscript in progress and asked my opinion of a proposed plot twist. Although Tony would have shrugged off any extolling of his own importance, I felt not just trusted but honored to be privy to that secret in his plot.
 
When Oxford University Press asked me to find an important American mystery writer to co-edit The Oxford Book of American Detective Stories with me, Tony leapt to mind. But I wondered if he could make time for the project. So I offered to do all the groundwork and to write all the essays introducing each story and author. I told him all he would have to do is decide on the final contents and write a preface.
 
Tony told me, “That’s not fair. I insist on writing my share of the essays. And I’ll do the preface, too.”
 
And he was true to his word.
 
More recently, when I approached Oxford University Press to put together an anthology that would begin where Dorothy L. Sayers’ landmark 1928 anthology, The Omnibus of Crime, left off, Tony readily agreed to edit it with me. And so we launched into selecting stories to represent three quarters of a century of developments in our beloved genre.
 
We both knew it was a tall order to walk in the footsteps of Dorothy L. Sayers, but we were absolutely game to give it a try. To honor Sayers, we decided to call our book A New Omnibus of Crime. But while, like her volume, ours would be packed with stories that have crime at their hearts, our Omnibus was destined to speed at a faster pace than Sayers’, and to showcase crime writing in profoundly changing times.
 
As Tony wrote in his “Preface” to our book, Sayers’ The Omnibus of Crime “was and is a masterwork and a treasure. But, as Bob Dylan musically warned us, ‘The times they are a-changin’.
 
“And so has crime and the nature of mystery and detective fiction. . . . Therefore after seventy-five years which have included global warfare, the rise and fall of nations, the advent of space flight, motorized roller skates, crack cocaine, political correctness, and all sorts of other innovations, Rosemary Herbert and I feel the time is ripe for another look at what has become the most read form of printed literature on the planet.”
 
“How’s that for a start, Rosemary?” Tony asked me after reading those paragraphs to me out loud. Am I stealing anything you want to say in your ‘Introduction’?”
 
We were sitting side-by-side at two computers in his home office. I read him the opening words of my piece. It was clear we were working in tandem, without stealing one another’s thunder. And I was not just listening to Tony. He was listening to me.
 
When we turned back to our computer screens, Tony proved himself to be just as polite to Sayers as I had once been to him.
 
“With Miss Sayers,” he wrote, “and readers of today and tomorrow—in mind, we put together A New Omnibus of Crime. We think it does a fair job of representing the strengths of the crime writing genre in our time. Like her book, we hope it will also stand the test of time.”
 
While Tony is not here to celebrate the paperback release of our book, I’m proud to attest that his taste, his love and knowledge of the genre, and his voice are all alive in the book that was my very great joy to co-edit with him.
 
Rosemary Herbert co-edited A New Omnibus of Crime and The Oxford Book of American Detective Stories with Tony Hillerman, and served as editor-in-chief of The Oxford Companion to Crime & Mystery Writing, all published by Oxford University Press. Her forthcoming mystery novel, Front Page Teaser: A Liz Higgins Mystery will be published by Down East Books in October.

Tony Hillerman created the celebrated Joe Leaphorn and Jim Chee mysteries, set in New Mexico. He was named a Grand Master by the Mystery Writers of America.  

Tony Hillerman once inscribed a book to me with these words: “For Rosemary – Who qualifies for the ‘Listening Woman’ title I once used. –Tony Hillerman” That inscription ranks with the most cherished compliments I have received in my life. But much as I love to know that he valued me as a good listener, […]
Review by

It has been nearly 15 years since Vicky Bliss, Elizabeth Peters’ sharp and hungry contemporary protagonist, has had a new adventure. And while fans of Peters’ best-selling Amelia Peabody series have thrilled to each new volume in that saga, readers have also been champing at the bit for more about the spunky, six-foot-tall art historian. Their patience will be well rewarded with Laughter of Dead Kings, sixth in the series.

When Tutankhamen’s mummy goes missing from its sarcophagus in Egypt’s Valley of the Kings, Vicky finds herself once again caught up in an irresistible adventure. John Tregarth, erstwhile art thief and Vicky’s paramour, is suspected at once, and the pair sets off to clear his name, careening through Europe to Egypt (stopping in Berlin to protest—with ulterior motives and while distributing sausages—Germany’s reluctance to return the famous bust of Nefertiti to its native country).

As always, Peters’ descriptions of Egypt are a delight, and she balances this richness with a well-told, tight story, full of suspense and intrigue. Vicky’s boss, Schmidt, from the National Museum in Munich, is embroiled as well, caught up in a romance that turns sour fast.
 
Any reader familiar with Peters knows that picking up her latest book is like sitting down with old friends. Her sharp wit and smart prose are unequaled, and she deserves every available accolade. But Laughter of Dead Kings provides more than another fantastic story. It also answers a question debated over and over by Peters’ fans: how is John related to the characters from the Amelia Peabody series?
 
The answer is a good one, but even better is the bit that comes before it, when readers at long last meet the woman responsible for publishing Mrs. Emerson’s journals, bringing together at last the two series in a most satisfying fashion. This scene alone is worth the price of the book—but don’t look for details here. Rush and pick up a copy right away. You won’t want to miss a single page.
 
Tasha Alexander is the author of the Lady Emily Ashton mystery series.

 

It has been nearly 15 years since Vicky Bliss, Elizabeth Peters’ sharp and hungry contemporary protagonist, has had a new adventure. And while fans of Peters’ best-selling Amelia Peabody series have thrilled to each new volume in that saga, readers have also been champing at the bit for more about the spunky, six-foot-tall art historian. […]
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Fans of psychologist Alex Delaware and Detective Milo Sturgis will satisfy their need for thrills with Jonathan Kellerman’s latest, Monster. Never before have the combined talents of this pair, such opposites in many ways, yet complementary where it counts, been so carefully drawn by the author.

At the novel’s start, authorities are baffled by a series of horrific murders. While police try to uncover a link among the slain, the death toll mounts quickly amid a flood of dead-end leads, investigative miscues, and bureaucratic footdragging. Milo’s dogged probing and ability to turn up the tiny, pivotal clue is sorely tested by the elusiveness of the killer. Although there is no obvious common thread connecting the victims except the method of their deaths, Alex puts together a unifying personality profile, identifying them as well-liked loners capable of social interaction but uneasy about real intimacy.

A break in the case emerges when Ardis Monster Peake, a bona fide madman who killed his mother and an entire family of do-gooders, suddenly begins stream-of-consciousness rants that contain genuine clues. Kellerman keeps the suspense taut as Peake’s bizarre ramblings lead them deeper into the inner lives of the victims. Kellerman’s knack for creating short, terrifying scenes is accomplished here with all the skill of a seasoned veteran novelist.

Even though all evidence points to Peake, Alex and Milo conclude that the answer to this puzzle goes beyond the usual follow-the-dots murder case. What stumps the team is how the killer could know so much about their next move, as if he were reading their minds.

With Monster, the reader follows clues, both big and small, until the book cranks up for its big finish. Peake is one of Kellerman’s most fully realized crazies, a character of unbounded lunacy and diminished humanity. Though its occasional nod to old genre formula sometimes gets in the way, Monster, a furiously paced mindbender, contains enough mystery to hold readers spellbound. Robert Fleming is a writer in New York City.

Fans of psychologist Alex Delaware and Detective Milo Sturgis will satisfy their need for thrills with Jonathan Kellerman’s latest, Monster. Never before have the combined talents of this pair, such opposites in many ways, yet complementary where it counts, been so carefully drawn by the author. At the novel’s start, authorities are baffled by a […]
Review by

Fans of psychologist Alex Delaware and Detective Milo Sturgis will satisfy their need for thrills with Jonathan Kellerman’s latest, Monster. Never before have the combined talents of this pair, such opposites in many ways, yet complementary where it counts, been so carefully drawn by the author.

At the novel’s start, authorities are baffled by a series of horrific murders. While police try to uncover a link among the slain, the death toll mounts quickly amid a flood of dead-end leads, investigative miscues, and bureaucratic footdragging. Milo’s dogged probing and ability to turn up the tiny, pivotal clue is sorely tested by the elusiveness of the killer. Although there is no obvious common thread connecting the victims except the method of their deaths, Alex puts together a unifying personality profile, identifying them as well-liked loners capable of social interaction but uneasy about real intimacy.

A break in the case emerges when Ardis Monster Peake, a bona fide madman who killed his mother and an entire family of do-gooders, suddenly begins stream-of-consciousness rants that contain genuine clues. Kellerman keeps the suspense taut as Peake’s bizarre ramblings lead them deeper into the inner lives of the victims. Kellerman’s knack for creating short, terrifying scenes is accomplished here with all the skill of a seasoned veteran novelist.

Even though all evidence points to Peake, Alex and Milo conclude that the answer to this puzzle goes beyond the usual follow-the-dots murder case. What stumps the team is how the killer could know so much about their next move, as if he were reading their minds.

With Monster, the reader follows clues, both big and small, until the book cranks up for its big finish. Peake is one of Kellerman’s most fully realized crazies, a character of unbounded lunacy and diminished humanity. Though its occasional nod to old genre formula sometimes gets in the way, Monster, a furiously paced mindbender, contains enough mystery to hold readers spellbound. Robert Fleming is a writer in New York City.

Fans of psychologist Alex Delaware and Detective Milo Sturgis will satisfy their need for thrills with Jonathan Kellerman’s latest, Monster. Never before have the combined talents of this pair, such opposites in many ways, yet complementary where it counts, been so carefully drawn by the author. At the novel’s start, authorities are baffled by a […]
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Carol O’Connell’s sixth New York-based Kathleen Mallory mystery Shell Game is not the simple illusion its title suggests. Its convolution and deciphering transform penny-ante poker into high-stakes investigation, loyalties into levers to gain clues, dementia into a shield fordecades-old guilt.

Just prior to Thanksgiving, on national television, an old-school magician’s attempt at an ambitious, dangerous trick results in his death. His failings are blamed: He was out of his league; his timing was off. Unlike everyone else, detective Kathleen Mallory believes that the death was planned. When her initial attempts to gather information on a magicians’ float at the Macy’s Parade are twisted to her professional embarrassment, Mallory digs in deeper.

O’Connell’s protagonist is the veteran of a childhood on urban streets a focused, tough detective, a source of bafflement to her colleagues. But self-knowledge, stubbornness, and cyber-skills give her an edge in confronting clever, violent opponents. Be warned: Shell Game may result in lost sleep, not for its subject matter but for its relentless puzzle. You do not get what you see. Tom Corcoran is the Florida-based author of The Mango Opera and the forthcoming Gumbo Limbo.

Carol O’Connell’s sixth New York-based Kathleen Mallory mystery Shell Game is not the simple illusion its title suggests. Its convolution and deciphering transform penny-ante poker into high-stakes investigation, loyalties into levers to gain clues, dementia into a shield fordecades-old guilt. Just prior to Thanksgiving, on national television, an old-school magician’s attempt at an ambitious, dangerous […]
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Joseph Klempner begins his tale of murder and its aftermath by describing its setting a small, ordinary community in upstate New York called Flat Rock. Flat Rock is small enough to fill every public office with volunteers, and small enough to route weekend calls to police headquarters to the Officer on Call. It is through this quite ordinary relay system that Bass McClure, Flat Rock’s volunteer Fish and Game Warden, receives a phone call that proves to be less than ordinary.

Jonathan Hamilton a 30-year-old man most of the town charitably calls slow has called to say his grandparents have been hurt. McClure, long familiar with the Hamilton family, arrives at the main house of the estate to find Jonathan rocking, making trapped animals noises, and covered in blood. Saying to Jonathan, Show me, McClure is lead to an upstairs bedroom, two bodies, and a mess of blood. An investigation begins.

The investigation, conducted by McClure and Deke Stanton, turns up what appears to be solid evidence that Jonathan has brutally killed the two people he loves most in the world. Evidence seems to suggest the motive for the murders supposedly committed by a man most would label retarded was greed.

Because a double murder carries a possible death penalty and New York has recently placed special emphasis on cases in which the death penalty applies, the state calls Matthew Fielder to defend Jonathan. A graduate of Death School, and a firm believer that death is different, Fielder collects a team to assist him in developing a defense for what seems indefensible. With the expertise of a private investigator named Gunn and a social worker named Hillary, plus input from Jonathan’s family, Fielder makes a decision on how to best defend his client only to find his decision was based on inadequacies and clouded by his own prejudices.

Klempner, who has a background in criminal defense, does the expected, delivering an intriguing look at the nuances of the law; he also delivers the unexpected. He winds his courtroom drama around the landscape, characters, and subplot narratives in the same way a favorite uncle strings together seemingly unrelated anecdotes until, without understanding exactly how it happened, you realize a powerful story has been told and you have learned something in the telling.

Jamie Whitfield is a published author and teacher. She lives in Hendersonville, Tennessee.

Joseph Klempner begins his tale of murder and its aftermath by describing its setting a small, ordinary community in upstate New York called Flat Rock. Flat Rock is small enough to fill every public office with volunteers, and small enough to route weekend calls to police headquarters to the Officer on Call. It is through […]

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