I’ll just leave you with these last few thoughts. Now, here’s this blog called The Passive Voice. Written by an attorney named David P. Vandagriff. Now, let’s look at the FAQs about Mr. Vandagriff. Interesting. I wonder why he chose to quit the Missouri Bar, just because he moved to another state. That’s just not done. Or weird. Oh, well.
Now … let’s read about Mr. Vandagriff. So … he’s a California attorney, but he works all over the freaking place. Umm … yet, if you check Martindale Hubble, his listing says he’s located in Ohio. Now, with all those credentials, you’d think his profile would reflect them somewhere, huh? Especially since he never mentioned being a member of the Ohio Bar. Yo no comprendo. Ha!
And this is my entry from when I worked at a law firm in Prince George’s County. I never bothered to update my entry, because I went to work for the government for three and a half years. Then, I opened my own office, and failed to update the entry, because it didn’t matter much. It costs money, and I was losing money hand over fist. But that’s what being an entrepreneur is really like. You spend money up front and earn it back over time, slowly but surely.
I was starting to make a profit when I decided to close my law office and become a freelance writer. I was so happy to get paid to do what I loved, which was write. Even if the pay was small, I figured I’d work my way up to bigger, better-paying assignments. That was back before I had my stroke, developed dystonia, and everything turned to shit.
I’m so-o-o-o sorry. Did I offend you? Am I trotting out my neurological dirty laundry? Again?
But … back to Mr. Vandagriff. Wouldn’t it be interesting to research this man’s background and get the full story about him? I know private eyes who could do it, too. Maths is hard, but something’s not adding up quite right.
So … hopefully, that’s settled, whatever that is. Because I sure as fuck don’t know.
In any case, I’m still writing and that is nothing short of astonishing to me. And Mac Cassity, Ned Adams and Kris van der Sande all have characters named for them. You may be surprised at how significant little Miss Kris turns out to be in the story. Only Dr. Strangewriter knows for sure, but can’t say, because that would be telling, wouldn’t it?
Which reminds me, I still haven’t heard from Donna. I can’t send her a book without an address. Strange. Hmm …!
And here’s a quotation for you. Hell, here’s two, for that matter.
“There is no stigma attached to recognizing a bad decision in time to install a better one.”
– Laurence J. Peter
“America … just a nation of two hundred million used car salesmen with all the money we need to buy guns and no qualms about killing anybody else in the world who tries to make us uncomfortable.”
– Hunter S. Thompson
PS: I won’t be attending Bouchercon after all. I’ll be going to a Nats game. I’m splitting season tickets with one of the nicest attorneys from the old office. A real mensch.
Pay-as-you-read e-bookselling, blah blah, etc. Let’s not even get into the question of who Mike Shatzkin is and what his credentials are. Anyone can go online and set up a website and say whatever they want about themselves. I will say it is a most “interesting” blog for a publishing consultant or whatever he is, based on the look, the categories and so on in the sidebar, etc.
Is there life after work? That’s all I want. I just want to write for a living and have a life. Is that so much to ask?
Now, I may appear to be an American idiot, but there’s more to me than meets the eye.
UPDATE 2: Sadly, it seems my offer hasn’t been accepted. Well, I could use a vacation. I wouldn’t mind finding out the down and dirty about Mr. Vandagrass or whatever his name is. This should all go over very well with various state and federal authorities, I’m sure. They take a really dim view of computer hacking and other shenanigans, too. Just saying.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a book to read, a review to peck out, a blog to (hopefully) launch, and a life to live.
Talk amongst yourselves!
UPDATE 3: Since I nearly always make time to do the teaser on Nik Nak’s Old Peculiar, I thought I’d share this song, along with an appropriate quotation.
“Music is the only language in which you cannot say a mean or sarcastic thing.”
– John Erskine
UPDATE 4: One final thought. Never accept candy from strangers. And never do business with people on the Internet without knowing who you’re doing business with.
Now, given the fact that I posted this column in Nov. 2007, then this column, then somebody came to me out of the blue with a proposition to cross-promote with other authors, I realize now I should’ve asked, “Why me?” However, one of the authors who got involved was someone I met at a conference. And, my, how interesting this looks in retrospect!
Finally, here’s an appropriate quotation and a song.
“I never forget a face, but in your case I’ll be glad to make an exception.”
– Groucho Marx
PS: Just a reminder that I’m doing a promotional giveaway on Smashwords until Sunday, March 17. I’m giving away free downloads of LEAST WANTED. Just use the coupon code KY37W at checkout.
Click this link to read the first nine chapters of the novel. That is, if anyone gives a damn.
UPDATE 5: Hi there! While I’m still here, talking to myself, Paul, Scott (whichever one, for there are many), and whoever else might give a damn, I thought I’d mention that I’ve finished the book I’m reviewing. So … without giving anything away, let’s just say you could sum it up in these words: karma is a bitch! Ha!
“What if this weren’t a hypothetical question?”
– Unknown
UPDATE 6: While I was doing the teaser on Nik Nak’s Old Peculiar, I heard this song and thought I’d share it, because I love piano music so much. I used to play piano. In fact, I’ll have to try to find that certificate I got for my piano playing way back in the day when I had two fully functional hands. Sometime after I write my review and figure out why I can’t put a simple freaking post up on my new blog to save my life. Or why I was able to create pages just fine until I suddenly couldn’t, and I now I suddenly can’t do it for love or money.
Oh, yeah, here’s another interesting thing. I noticed that in WordPress for Dummies it says that it’s fine to have has few or as many categories as you wish on your blog. Well … when I checked the online instructions, I noticed an entry that said, “This post has too many categories.” Or words to that effect. Weird, huh?
UPDATE 7: Another Sunday, another day sitting at home in my toothpaste-stained pajamas, reading the paper and catching up on some other reading. Here are some items of possible interest.
UPDATE 8: Well, well … once again, I’ve tried to put up a simple post to my new blog and it isn’t happening.
So I’ll just put here what I was going to blog there, okay?
When I started blogging, I really had no idea what I was doing. I’ve come to realize that there should be guidance for newbies when it comes to social media. I don’t have all the answers. I’ve just made lots of mistakes. But the first rule I’d suggest is to avoid Facebook. Read the above guidance on Facebook and decide for yourself.
When I started blogging, I really had no idea what I was doing. I’ve come to realize that there should be guidance for newbies when it comes to social media. I don’t have all the answers. I’ve just made lots of mistakes. But the first rule I’d suggest is to avoid Facebook. Read this and decide for yourself.
UPDATE 11: *sigh* Isn’t this getting a bit ridiculous? All I want to do is start another blog. I’m sure anyone reading this post must be thinking something like this.
Anyhow, at some point, I’ll be able to finish what I was blogging about there, when we can all get over ourselves and act like adults, because I don’t believe WordPress is screwing up that badly and I have no idea what’s going on, but I have theories, which I’m sure no one wants me to blog. And that’s what I’m trying to tell you. I’ll shut up if you just let me write in peace, okay?
Now … grow a pair, you. Whoever you are.
UPDATE 12: Rather than waste anymore time, let’s just be done with it.
“Men occasionally stumble over the truth, but most of them pick themselves up and hurry off as if nothing ever happened.”
– Winston Churchill
And check out my awesome shit on Pinterest, please.
PS: Just a reminder that I’m doing a promotional giveaway on Smashwords until Sunday, March 17. I’m giving away free downloads of LEAST WANTED. Just use the coupon code KY37W at checkout.
Click this link to read the first nine chapters of the novel.
I ascended steep stairs with Elva McKutcheon huffing ahead of me. The wallpaper was a faded rose print, but the place reeked of stale cigarette smoke and grease—hardly roses.
Elva opened the door and swept an arm, as if to say “Behold.” I entered. The room was neat, furnished with utility in mind: a single bed, an old chest of drawers, a dresser with a microwave, hot plate and TV on it, a dorm-size fridge, and a small suitcase, open on the floor. I peered in. A jumble of men’s underwear and socks. All the comforts of home.
In the bathroom, I found a clean sink, razor, miniature can of shaving cream and a bar of soap. I checked the cabinet. Half a bottle of Aqua Velva.
I started pulling out chest drawers, one at a time. Cooper hadn’t bothered to unpack. In the third drawer, I found a file. I picked it up and rifled through it: copies of invoices from ITN Consulting. Interesting. Also, an envelope. Inside was a small, unmarked key. I wondered what it might open.
I tried the next drawer down. Empty. Elva shifted back and forth as she watched me. I felt her eyes follow my every move.
“Look,” she said. “I know you said you wasn’t a cop, but what’s this about?”
“What do you care? You’ve been paid.”
“Yeah, well, it’s still my house. Lemme see some ID.”
I smiled at her sudden interest in my identity and pulled out my courthouse badge. “There. Feel better?”
“Maryland State Bar Association,” she read aloud. “You’re a lawyer.”
“No flies on you.”
She scowled. She couldn’t take it quite as well as she could dish it out. “You representing his ex-wife, right? The one he was bitching about owing child support to?”
“No.”
“Sure you are,” she said. “Else why’d you be going through his things? You’re looking for money, right?”
I didn’t know what I was looking for. I’d have been happy to find money, though I doubted Cooper would keep it in such an unsecured place. Clearly, the House of McKutcheon offered something less than Fort Knox protection. A bank book or account statements would have been helpful. Not for the reasons Elva had in mind, but to show that Cooper was an embezzler. Assuming I could link them to the fake vendor account.
“You said you last saw Cooper two days ago?” I asked.
“Two or three days. He’d been in and out anyway.”
“Does he ever sleep over?”
“Don’t ask me. If he does, he’s quiet as a mouse. I never hear the faucet run or the toilet flush. Bed’s always made. By the time I’m up, he’s gone. He’ll pick up his mail, spend time in his room now and then. I can hear him when he’s here, making phone calls and stuff. But I think he’s been steering clear o’ here, ever since I told him about the big blond cop.”
I turned to the dresser. One drawer held an appointment book. I flipped to the current month and started checking dates. The notation “10 p.m. No. 17” was written in pencil for the day before yesterday. Otherwise, the past two weeks were blank.
I kept up my search, Elva breathing heavily behind me, but found nothing of consequence.
“Ms. McKutcheon, I’m going to copy these,” I said, holding up the file and address book, “and return them later today.”
“Whatever you say, Miss Lawyer Lady. But ’tween you and me, your client is wasting her money.”
“How’s that?”
Elva snorted and looked at me as if I were a few cans short of a six-pack. “Let’s face it. A guy livin’ in a place like this obviously got no money. So how you ’spect him to pay any child support?”
“I don’t,” I said, hefting the file. Her face screwed up in a quizzical look, to which I said, “Thanks for your help. I’ll see myself out.”
She followed me to the top of the steps. “Blood from a turnip, Miss Lawyer,” she called down. “You can’t get it.”
*****
The white guy who’d come to see Cooper wasn’t a cop. A cop would have flashed a badge and identified himself. Maybe he was a private eye, hired by Cooper’s ex to find him and serve him papers for back child support. Or Cooper could have quit Kozmik to impoverish himself—an attempt to avoid his support obligations and a bad move that would earn no sympathy from a judge. Perhaps Cooper had rented this dump as a mail drop instead of a box to throw people off his trail. Pretending to live there, while hiding somewhere else. But hiding from whom? His ex-wife? Someone at Kozmik? And why would he hide? If I could figure out who he was hiding from, maybe the why would follow.
In a better neighborhood, I found a cheesesteak and a Kinko’s, in that order. I copied Cooper’s entire calendar and the papers in the file, since answers might be buried anywhere in them. Another receipt for my taxes.
I toyed with the notion of having the key duplicated, but it was a plain key and I had no idea what it unlocked. What would be the point? I thought about keeping it and using it as leverage to get Cooper to talk to me. Tempting as that option was, it bordered on blackmail or behavior “unbecoming of an attorney.” I cursed my ethical diligence and replaced the key in the envelope.
I returned to Elva’s. She watched me put everything back where I’d found it. No sign of Cooper or anyone else since I’d seen her. I took a chance and left my card, offering yet another twenty for her discretion (to the extent it could be bought) and information on any new developments where Cooper was concerned.
With that, I headed back toward I-95 and home, hitting an ATM on the way. This had turned into an expensive trip.
At home, I fed Oscar, my 15-pound black-and-white feline companion, then decided to check my office voice mail. Maybe Fielding had thought of another important point, Marzetti had changed his mind about talking to me, or Elva had called with news worthy of all those twenties I paid her. The lone message was from William Jackson.
“Ms. McRae.” The words came out jagged and anguished. “Please call me as soon as possible. They’ve arrested Tina. They think . . . they think she killed her own mother. It’s crazy, but they do.” There was a long pause, but for his ragged breathing. “Please call me when you get this. She needs your help.”
Given that it’s the week before St. Patrick’s Day, I’ve decided I’m going to do a promotional giveaway on Smashwords until Sunday, March 17. I’m giving free copies of LEAST WANTED. Just use the coupon code KY37W at checkout.
Also, the winner of the teaser contest was Donna. Paul tried to play, but I had to disqualify him, of course. No players outside the U.S., remember? Sorry, but I can’t make exceptions for friends.
Anyway, Donna … as the one and only player, you win by default, anyhow. So, just please send me your address by email to debbi@debbimack.com, and I’ll send you your book.
Thank you! More to come …
Finally, here’s a quotation and song, since I love music and used to be a musician back in the day before I got dystonia.
“My ideas come not at my desk writing but in the midst of living.”
– Anais Nin
Just a quick note to tell you I’ve been busy working all weekend, despite the fact that my mother died. Needless to say, I’ve been mourning, for reasons I won’t go into. However, I did get to talk to my sister and brother on the phone. In my opinion, there’s nothing more important than relying upon your family and true friends.
Now, without further ado, here are some links of possible interest.
UPDATE: I just realized that cancelling my print subscription to the Post would be the worst thing I could do. So … forget what I said about that. I’m definitely keeping my Sunday only subscription to the Post now. And I’d really like to know who left the comment in this post. Was it you, Gene? Really? Really?
I’ve been in the process of rebranding my blog and revamping my website. So, in the interest of keeping this short and sweet, I’ll go right to the teaser questions. Feel free to leave your answers in the comments. Whoever gets the most correct answers will get a signed copy of my first novel, IDENTITY CRISIS. This contest is limited to players in the continental U.S. My apologies to my good friends in Ireland, the UK, and the rest of the world, but I’m running a business, right?
So, here we go!
1. Who was the first woman to direct a film noir?
2. Which film actress was born in Brooklyn and named Ruby Catherine Stevens?
3. Which actress was known widely for her “bitch” performances, as well as the lines “What a dump!” and “Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy night”?
4. What legendary film actress got her start through early self-promotion?
5. Which of the above actresses were renown rivals?
Bonus Question: What actress appeared in the movie, River of Gold, and what did her character say before she died?
Hint: don’t worry too much, if you don’t get all of the bonus question. I may have dreamed the last part of it. I’m not really sure, but I could swear it actually happened. Really!
Also, you have until the end of the day on Sunday to submit your answers.
Big event of the day – wrote forceful two-page letter to opposing attorney in ugly divorce case concerning failure to turn over certain documents. Will we need to go to court over this? Stay tuned!
Perhaps I should take a moment here to describe my home life. Yes, I do have one. I’m married. My husband’s name is Rick. He’s a firefighter in D.C. As you can imagine, he has plenty of stories of his own.
When I worked at EPA in DC, before they extended the Green Line of the Metro to Waterside Mall (where EPA has its offices), I used to have to walk from the L’Enfant Plaza Metro stop to work, a walk of several blocks. When I started with EPA, it was not even in an attorney position. I spent my first eight months there as a low-level staff person with the Office of Toxic Substances.
Anyway, because my office was in the East Tower, I used to walk every day right past my husband’s firehouse. On mornings when he was getting off work, and I had to go to the office, he’d give me a ride. Later, when I got my job with the Office of General Counsel and went to work in the West Tower, I took a different street to work. But I still got rides on mornings when he was getting off. I miss those rides sometimes. I was usually dead tired, and so was he, but they were still special. Short, but special.
Rick’s a great guy. He cooks, he cleans, and he’s my biggest supporter when I come up with various hare-brained ideas, like opening my own law office. Or even (dare I say it?) making a living at freelance writing.
Once upon a time, Rick and I were DINKs – “double income, no kids.” Now, we have one income. I suppose that makes us OINKs.
We do have four lovely cats – Sylvester, Shadow, Smokey and Penny. And we have a 55-gallon aquarium with three discus – Moe, Larry and Curly – along with some catfish and suckermouths.
Oh, I forgot to explain about “Homicide”. I know an assistant state’s attorney in Howard County who appeared a couple of times as an extra on the show. He gave me the address to write to the casting person. I wrote in August. This week, I got a call. Tomorrow, I will be driving to a section of Route 40 East where they will be filming a traffic jam scene. My car (hopefully) will be in it.
It’ll be great!
Friday 9/22/95 (or actually, Sat. 9/23/95 at 4:00 a.m.)
I hope you’ll understand if I make this a “one-liner” type entry. I didn’t get off the “Homicide” set until 2:50 this morning. It’s been a long night. (But I would do it again.)
Yeah, I remember when I used to jump in my car and drive without thinking about it. Now, I’m typing this post with my pinkie and my good hand. I’m so sorry, am I trotting out my dirty neurological laundry again? Well, excu-u-u-use me!
One Saturday last year, I decided to go for a drive and it was such a blessing/ordeal, I blogged about it.
That was back when this blog was intended to be the place I blogged about whatever was on my mind. This never actually started out as a marketing blog, really. It was more of place to voice my opinion and connect with other bloggers. Well, the best laid plans and all that, huh?
BTW, it may interest you to know that the attorney on the other side of the horrible divorce case from Hell was a woman. Let’s call her Jane. Well, Jane was so horrible, I took a photo of her that I found somewhere, enlarged it on our copier and pinned it on our bulletin board with this caption underneath it.
Yeah, Jane was that crazy looking in the photo. And she was a real bitch. Or, at least, her client was. Or Jane chose to represent her bitchy client in a horrible and bitchy way. What-ever!
Now, as a fan of noir, I consider this film a must-see.
Saturday morning was a good time to travel up I-270 to Frederick. The few cars on the road were probably leaf peepers heading to Western Maryland, avoiding a longer trip to Skyline Drive in Virginia. Any weekday morning, this stretch of road would’ve been jammed owing to area commuters living farther and farther from downtown D.C. With all the businesses springing up along the “I-270 Corridor,” I’d heard that traffic was as bad heading out as in. Once again, I gave thanks for my two-block commute.
Marzetti lived in a new development just outside Frederick’s historic district, cul-de-sacs with look-alike two-story houses. The term “suburban palatial” came to mind. Marzetti’s house sported a brick facade with yellow siding and bright white trim.
The man who answered the doorbell appeared to be in his late twenties or early thirties, with a shock of red hair and sleepy brown eyes. He wore gray sweats and a faded blue T-shirt.
“Mr. Marzetti, I’m Sam McRae. I’m an attorney working for Brad Higgins. He took over your position when you left Kozmik Games.”
“Right. So what’s this about?”
“I’d like to ask a few questions.”
A slim, dark-haired woman in jeans and an oversized top wandered over and placed a protective hand on Marzetti’s arm. She gave me a curious look. “What’s up?”
“Just something about my old job.” He removed her hand and stepped outside. “This won’t take long, honey,” he called over his shoulder before shutting the door.
With a hand on my back, he drew me away from the house. So much for a tour of Marzetti’s mini-manse. Maybe another time.
I stopped before we reached the curb. “Right before you left Kozmik, I understand you found a suspicious account in the accounts payable system. Was the vendor ITN Consultants?”
His brow furrowed. “I don’t remember.”
“Which don’t you remember? Finding a suspicious account or the vendor’s name?” I caught a glimpse of Marzetti’s wife peeking from behind a curtain.
“Neither one.”
“So you never spoke to your old boss, Darrell Cooper, about a suspicious vendor account?”
“I don’t know. It’s been a year since I worked at Kozmik. I can’t remember everything I did while I was there. Why?”
I ignored the question. “I’m assuming that if you’d found a suspicious account, you would remember, wouldn’t you?”
“I don’t know. It wasn’t my job to look for them. I just set up the accounts and paid the vendors. Darrell Cooper was supposed to keep an eye out for any problems.”
“What problems in particular?”
Marzetti shrugged. “Excessive costs, lack of information on who ordered from the vendor, what they ordered. That kind of thing.”
“So your job was confined to paying the bills?”
He nodded so vigorously I thought he’d get whiplash. “Right. You might want to ask Cooper about this suspicious account.”
He turned toward the house. “But someone told me you had mentioned a suspicious account appearing in the system before you left,” I said.
His eyes flashed anger. “Who told you that? Whoever did is a liar.”
“How would you know? You said you couldn’t remember.”
He stopped short, wearing a deer-in-the-headlights expression. “You . . . you’re trying to trick me. Put words in my mouth.”
“No. I just want to verify that there was an account for ITN Consultants in the system before Brad came onboard. Nobody’s accusing you of anything.”
“Look, just leave me alone, okay? I don’t know anything about any fake vendor,” he snarled.
“I didn’t say it was a fake vendor.” I enunciated each word with care. “I said it was a suspicious account. Now, why don’t you tell me what you know about this?”
Marzetti’s eyes darted around. “Look,” he said. “I don’t remember an account—suspicious or phony or whatever you want to call it—and I don’t know anything about this ITC or whatever they’re called. And as for Kozmik, I’m through with that place. So you can quit wasting your time and mine.”
He did an about-face and stomped toward Marzetti Manor.
*****
As I drove up I-95 to Philadelphia, I pondered Marzetti’s reaction. Maybe, like Brad, he had stumbled across something he wasn’t supposed to find. Odd that Marzetti, like Cooper, had left so quickly and so soon after discovering the problem. Had he planned on leaving or did finding the account have something to do with it? Perhaps someone—Cooper?—had warned him not to tell anyone about the account. Cooper could have found a way to hack into the system and create the account. And, maybe, after Brad raised the alarm again, Cooper cut bait and ran, taking most of the money and leaving some of it behind to implicate Brad.
An interesting theory, but that’s all it was. I needed hard proof.
It took me less than two hours to reach Cooper’s place, a dilapidated row house in a shabby North Philly neighborhood. One of several identical iterations squeezed together. The building looked tired, as if the only reason it stood was the support from its twin brothers to either side.
I parked in an alley littered with old syringes, spent condoms and broken glass. As I climbed the stoop, I had to wonder: What’s a former corporate middle-manager doing in a shithole like this?
I rang the bell. While waiting, I had time to consider if Duvall had led me to the wrong Darrell Cooper. Duvall had said this was a forwarding address. Maybe he was just having his mail sent here and living somewhere else. Then why not get a post office box?
I knocked and waited some more, thinking of cheesesteaks. I hoped I could get one far from this god-forsaken neighborhood. The door opened a crack.
A pale-faced woman with shar-pei wrinkles stuck her snout under the chain. The odor of cigarettes and B.O. drifted out. “Whatcha selling?” she asked.
“Nothing,” I said. “I’m looking for Darrell Cooper.”
“Really? Well, ain’t he the popular one?”
“Does he live here?”
“Depends on what you call ‘living.’ He keeps his shit here and stops in from time to time.”
“When did he move in?”
“Couple weeks ago.” Right around the time he quit Kozmik, so it probably was the right Darrell Cooper.
“And someone else has come to see him?”
“Who wants to know?” She brought a hand up and poked a smoldering cigarette between her lips. “You a cop?”
“No. But I need to talk to him.”
“Well, he ain’t here right now.” Her cigarette bobbed as she spoke. “Fact, I ain’t seen him for two, three days maybe.”
“So who else was here to see him? And when?”
She lifted her hand and rubbed her fingers together. “Fork it over,” she said.
I gave her a twenty, wondering if it was enough. It seemed to please her. She took the cigarette in her stubby fingers and a cloud of smoke drifted from her mouth. She smiled, revealing a missing molar on the upper left.
“A big, bulky guy in a fancy suit come ’round. Had light-blond, buzz cut hair. He acted like a cop and I could tell he carried a piece.” She patted the area just below her shoulder.
“A gun?”
“Naw, a piece of cake. Yeah, a gun. Whatta ya think?”
I soldiered on with the questioning, despite the odd feeling that I was starring in the Philadelphia version of The Wire, as written by Damon Runyon. “When was this again?”
“About three days ago, I guess.”
“That was the last time you saw Cooper, right?”
“Right. Cooper didn’t seem too happy to hear about the guy.”
“Not happy how?”
She shrugged. “I dunno. Not terribly upset or nothin’. Just not happy.”
“You said he was popular. Anyone else been looking for him?”
She nodded. “Yup.”
Impatient with her monosyllabic responses, I struggled to maintain my cool. “And who was that?”
She lifted her hand and did another finger rub. I pulled out another twenty. This was adding up. I wondered how I’d describe it in my expense account. Research? Worked for me.
“Two times, a tall, skinny nigger come by looking for him. Yesterday and the day before. He was in a uniform, so the first time, I opened up. Thought he was UPS or sumthin’, but I shoulda know’d it wasn’t, cuz the uniform color weren’t right. He was in blue, not brown.”
“Like a blue jumpsuit?”
“Yeah, like that.”
“Can you describe him?”
“Looked like a nigger. Just like any other.”
“Long hair? Short? Light skin? Dark?” I tried to prod her to describe him in greater detail than just the N-word. It may have been too much for this woman. “Anything you remember?”
“I don’t know. Brown skin. Dark eyes. Short hair.” She ran through the description in a sing-song. “Just another—”
“Old? Young?” I said, before she could spit the word out again.
“Not old, not young. You can never tell with them people.”
“Any distinguishing marks? A scar? A tattoo?”
She shook her head. “Nothing on his face but a damn smile. Least ’til I tole’ him Mr. Cooper weren’t here. I couldn’t tell you about any tattoos. His arms and legs was all covered up.” She sucked on the cigarette.
“How about the other guy? The big blond one. Is there anything special you can remember about him?”
“Naw, just what I tell you.”
“Did either of these guys give a name?”
“Are you kidding?”
“Did either of them tell you anything about why they wanted to talk to Cooper?”
“Naw, and I weren’t about to ask the big cop no questions. I just told him Cooper weren’t here and the guy left.” She snorted in a wet, throat-clearing way that made me wince. “Goodbye and good riddance to him.”
“What about the black man?”
“He just said he needed to talk to Darrell Cooper. I said he wasn’t in. He asked when was I expecting him back. I said I didn’t expect anything because it wasn’t my job to keep track of my tenant’s comings and goings. I told him he’d have to try again another time and he go off, all in a huff. He come back again the next day, only I didn’t open up this time.” The crow’s feet around her eye scrunched as she winked at me.
“So do you know where Cooper is?”
“No clue. Like I said, not my job to keep track of his comings and goings. I’m assuming he’ll be back, though.”
“Why’s that?”
“All his shit’s still here, that’s why. He don’t pay me for next month and it’s still here, out on the street it goes.”
“Ms . . . I never got your name.”
“McKutcheon. Elva McKutcheon.”
“Could I take a quick look in his room?”
She smiled. I had my wallet open before she could lift her hand.
For those who’ve just started reading this blog, here are the first seven chapters. I post samples of my work every Monday, unless I drop dead or have another stroke or get hit by a bus or whatever.
But thank you, Denis Leary, for this tweet.
No players outside the U.S., remember? Sorry, but I can’t make exceptions for friends.
Final Friday
March 15, 2013 by Debbi
UPDATED — THIRTEEN TIMES
I’ll keep this short and sweet. I think this blog has served its purpose.
The journey of a thousand words has come to an end … or a new beginning, really.
I’ll just leave you with these last few thoughts. Now, here’s this blog called The Passive Voice. Written by an attorney named David P. Vandagriff. Now, let’s look at the FAQs about Mr. Vandagriff. Interesting. I wonder why he chose to quit the Missouri Bar, just because he moved to another state. That’s just not done. Or weird. Oh, well.
Now … let’s read about Mr. Vandagriff. So … he’s a California attorney, but he works all over the freaking place. Umm … yet, if you check Martindale Hubble, his listing says he’s located in Ohio. Now, with all those credentials, you’d think his profile would reflect them somewhere, huh? Especially since he never mentioned being a member of the Ohio Bar. Yo no comprendo. Ha!
Hey, look! I know this lawyer. That’s Connie Ridgway. We used to share office space together. In fact, Connie was in my first writer’s group with
BetsyE.D. Baker, the children’s book author who told me about Doctor Who and Red Dwarf.And this is my entry from when I worked at a law firm in Prince George’s County. I never bothered to update my entry, because I went to work for the government for three and a half years. Then, I opened my own office, and failed to update the entry, because it didn’t matter much. It costs money, and I was losing money hand over fist. But that’s what being an entrepreneur is really like. You spend money up front and earn it back over time, slowly but surely.
I was starting to make a profit when I decided to close my law office and become a freelance writer. I was so happy to get paid to do what I loved, which was write. Even if the pay was small, I figured I’d work my way up to bigger, better-paying assignments. That was back before I had my stroke, developed dystonia, and everything turned to shit.
I’m so-o-o-o sorry. Did I offend you? Am I trotting out my neurological dirty laundry? Again?
But … back to Mr. Vandagriff. Wouldn’t it be interesting to research this man’s background and get the full story about him? I know private eyes who could do it, too. Maths is hard, but something’s not adding up quite right.
Hmm …! What would Perry Mason do?
How about this?
So … hopefully, that’s settled, whatever that is.
Because I sure as fuck don’t know.
In any case, I’m still writing and that is nothing short of astonishing to me. And Mac Cassity, Ned Adams and Kris van der Sande all have characters named for them. You may be surprised at how significant little Miss Kris turns out to be in the story. Only Dr. Strangewriter knows for sure, but can’t say, because that would be telling, wouldn’t it?
Plus … just a few links of possible interest.
THINK Picture, THINK Action, THINK Dialogue by
the curiously namedThomas Sawyer. Hmm …!What about “Bunheads”?
“Veronica Mars” hits the goal!
DC By the Book coming soon.
Which reminds me, I still haven’t heard from Donna. I can’t send her a book without an address. Strange. Hmm …!
And here’s a quotation for you. Hell, here’s two, for that matter.
“There is no stigma attached to recognizing a bad decision in time to install a better one.”
– Laurence J. Peter
“America … just a nation of two hundred million used car salesmen with all the money we need to buy guns and no qualms about killing anybody else in the world who tries to make us uncomfortable.”
– Hunter S. Thompson
And thank you Women of BlogHer for this video!
About time I grew up, huh?
I won’t say goodbye. I’ll be seeing you … I hope.
Please like my Facebook page or look for me on Twitter, and get ready to hop aboard the mystery train!
And I’m on Pinterest, of course.
I’m also following Lisa Sabin-Wilson now. Really cool car, Lisa!
That’s mine!
I like your style.
I’m also powered by espresso.
Voila!
PS: I won’t be attending Bouchercon after all. I’ll be going to a Nats game. I’m splitting season tickets with one of the nicest attorneys from the old office. A real mensch.
PPS: Given this post, do I really need to spell out the irony?
UPDATE:
Okay, a few more links and I’ll call it quits or move on, at any rate.
This is a really bad idea. You could say I’ve blogged the book about it. Or two books about it. Ha!
Pay-as-you-read e-bookselling, blah blah, etc. Let’s not even get into the question of who Mike Shatzkin is and what his credentials are. Anyone can go online and set up a website and say whatever they want about themselves. I will say it is a most “interesting” blog for a publishing consultant or whatever he is, based on the look, the categories and so on in the sidebar, etc.
Is there life after work? That’s all I want. I just want to write for a living and have a life. Is that so much to ask?
Now, I may appear to be an American idiot, but there’s more to me than meets the eye.
And thank you, Simon Wood, for telling me about these!
Here’s the Doctor Who 50th anniversary site!
Sorry, I won’t see you at Bouchercon, Simon.
What can I say? I got punked.
UPDATE 2: Sadly, it seems my offer hasn’t been accepted. Well, I could use a vacation. I wouldn’t mind finding out the down and dirty about Mr. Vandagrass or whatever his name is. This should all go over very well with various state and federal authorities, I’m sure. They take a really dim view of computer hacking and other shenanigans, too. Just saying.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a book to read, a review to peck out, a blog to (hopefully) launch, and a life to live.
Talk amongst yourselves!
UPDATE 3: Since I nearly always make time to do the teaser on Nik Nak’s Old Peculiar, I thought I’d share this song, along with an appropriate quotation.
“Music is the only language in which you cannot say a mean or sarcastic thing.”
– John Erskine
UPDATE 4: One final thought. Never accept candy from strangers. And never do business with people on the Internet without knowing who you’re doing business with.
Now, given the fact that I posted this column in Nov. 2007, then this column, then somebody came to me out of the blue with a proposition to cross-promote with other authors, I realize now I should’ve asked, “Why me?” However, one of the authors who got involved was someone I met at a conference. And, my, how interesting this looks in retrospect!
I think this explains everything.
Now do you understand?
And thank you, Paul! Tell Trevor I said hello.
Paul, Trevor and me at Cafe Nero in Brentwood, England.
I’m wearing my Doctor Who T-shirt today. Like the proud Doctor Who fan and nerd that I am.
We always have choices. And Kobo is awesome. You can find all my books on Kobo.
Download away!
Now … do we have an understanding? Ahem!
Finally, here’s an appropriate quotation and a song.
“I never forget a face, but in your case I’ll be glad to make an exception.”
– Groucho Marx
PS: Just a reminder that I’m doing a promotional giveaway on Smashwords until Sunday, March 17. I’m giving away free downloads of LEAST WANTED. Just use the coupon code KY37W at checkout.
Click this link to read the first nine chapters of the novel. That is, if anyone gives a damn.
UPDATE 5: Hi there!
While I’m still here, talking to myself, Paul, Scott (whichever one, for there are many), and whoever else might give a damn, I thought I’d mention that I’ve finished the book I’m reviewing. So … without giving anything away, let’s just say you could sum it up in these words: karma is a bitch! Ha!
One last link: In sly tweets, a rich lode for comedy.
The question is, who is your audience? And why are they laughing?
Here’s one last quotation.
“Your life story would not make a good book. Don’t even try.”
– Fran Lebowitz
Wait … one more …
“A witty saying proves nothing.”
– Voltaire
Hold on! How about this?
“What if this weren’t a hypothetical question?”
– Unknown
UPDATE 6: While I was doing the teaser on Nik Nak’s Old Peculiar, I heard this song and thought I’d share it, because I love piano music so much. I used to play piano. In fact, I’ll have to try to find that certificate I got for my piano playing way back in the day when I had two fully functional hands. Sometime after I write my review and figure out why I can’t put a simple freaking post up on my new blog to save my life. Or why I was able to create pages just fine until I suddenly couldn’t, and I now I suddenly can’t do it for love or money.
Anyway, here’s the song.
Oh, yeah, here’s another interesting thing. I noticed that in WordPress for Dummies it says that it’s fine to have has few or as many categories as you wish on your blog. Well … when I checked the online instructions, I noticed an entry that said, “This post has too many categories.” Or words to that effect. Weird, huh?
And here’s a quotation for you.
“He who limps is still walking.”
– Stanislaw J. Lec
UPDATE 7: Another Sunday, another day sitting at home in my toothpaste-stained pajamas, reading the paper and catching up on some other reading. Here are some items of possible interest.
This man is awesome!
Cry me a river, Gene!
Thank you Mystery Writers of America.
And for these …
Oh, the irony!
Reading, writing and video games.
I rest my hand.
UPDATE 8: Well, well … once again, I’ve tried to put up a simple post to my new blog and it isn’t happening.
So I’ll just put here what I was going to blog there, okay?
When I started blogging, I really had no idea what I was doing. I’ve come to realize that there should be guidance for newbies when it comes to social media. I don’t have all the answers. I’ve just made lots of mistakes. But the first rule I’d suggest is to avoid Facebook. Read the above guidance on Facebook and decide for yourself.
Also, here’s awesome stuff I’ve pinned.
And here’s an awesome quotation and video.
“Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”
– Albert Einstein
There, I said it!
UPDATE 9: Now you see my blog, but will it be here tomorrow?
This is the last thing I posted:
When I started blogging, I really had no idea what I was doing. I’ve come to realize that there should be guidance for newbies when it comes to social media. I don’t have all the answers. I’ve just made lots of mistakes. But the first rule I’d suggest is to avoid Facebook. Read this and decide for yourself.
Thanks to the Mystery Writers of America for this guidance.
Also, never blog or tweet without thinking about what you’re saying.
And here’s an appropriate quotation:
“The worst crime you can commit with an audience is telling them something they already know.”
– Aaron Sorkin
Only the Shadow knows! Ha!
And finally the sanity clause!
UPDATE 10: From Nik Nak’s Old Peculiar, the Doctor Who, series 7, part 2, 2013, trailer breakdown!
Of course, this man will always be the real Doctor to me.
And Happy St. Patrick’s Day!
UPDATE 11: *sigh* Isn’t this getting a bit ridiculous? All I want to do is start another blog. I’m sure anyone reading this post must be thinking something like this.
Anyhow, at some point, I’ll be able to finish what I was blogging about there, when we can all get over ourselves and act like adults, because I don’t believe WordPress is screwing up that badly and I have no idea what’s going on, but I have theories, which I’m sure no one wants me to blog. And that’s what I’m trying to tell you. I’ll shut up if you just let me write in peace, okay?
Now … grow a pair, you. Whoever you are.
UPDATE 12: Rather than waste anymore time, let’s just be done with it.
Voila!
Cat’s out of the bag.
Pin these.
UPDATE 13: Yeah, I know, I know … if you want to follow me, you’ll find me here, where I’m blogging now. Okay?
There, I said it!
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