Perrone made a note. “Thank you for your candor, Mrs. Santoni. I'll look into that."
Stockel stared down at the woman, her white hair like soft yarn. “Just curious. If you knew he might hurt her, why didn't you try to stop him?"
"Detective, look at me. I'm obviously in no physical condition to prevent my son from..."
"What I meant was, why didn't you try to talk him out of it at least?"
"Oh, but I did. He and I argued about it on more than one occasion. He said nasty things to me, vile things. That's not the way I raised him."
” ‘Course not."
"At any rate, things came to a head yesterday. He informed me that she was coming over to spend the night. I forbade it. After all, I live here, too. He may be a grown man, but I have a right to say who can or cannot sleep under this roof. And I'll be darned if I'm going to have them doing their dirty business on the other side of the wall while I'm trying to sleep."
She looked up, blinking once, deliberately. Stockel swore he could actually hear her eyelids punctuate her statement. He lifted his hands, palms open in surrender.
Perrone said, “So when you laid down the law, what did your son do?"
"He locked me up. Can you believe it? He intended to have her over and rub my nose in it. I'll be darned if that little dummy was going to disrespect ME like that. Let's be clear that this was not about my distaste for the girl. This was about a boy respecting his mother."
Stockel couldn't resist a dig. “Yeah, but his real mom divorced his dad. You're more like a ... stepmom. Not his REAL mom."
"Let her finish the story, Ray."
"She's the one that brought it up. The thing about respect, I mean. I thought she was all about making sure the girl didn't get hurt."
Mrs. Santoni barked, “I DIDN'T want her to get hurt! That's why I confronted him. Confronted them. It was an embarrassing situation, to be sure..."
She raised a hand to her face, the wisp of a handkerchief looped around a finger.
Perrone calmed her. “Just take us through it step-by-step, ma'am."
"Well ... when the lights went down and the two of them started ... to do their ... I heard what they were saying, what they were doing...” She described it to them, as delicately as she could, sniffling. “I realize I'm old-fashioned, but back in my day, that sort of thing wasn't done, not by respectable people."
"I understand how it may have shocked you, ma'am. I believe in some states it's still considered illegal."
"As well it should be."
"So, when you heard them, what did you do?"
"I started pounding and hollering and raising a ruckus, until Jimmy finally let me out. The poor girl seemed so confused, as if she didn't even know I lived here, as if Jimmy were keeping it a secret, like it was some perverse little game. I said to her, ‘Get your clothes and get out.’ She glared at Jimmy and asked, ‘What's going on?’ Jimmy said, ‘Don't worry, I'll take care of this.’ Then he and I began arguing."
"What did the girl do?"
"She went to put on her clothes in the corner. I think I remember her shouting at him again, ‘What the HELL is going on?’ Or something like that. I wanted her out of the apartment, for her own safety, of course. As I said, I know how Jimmy can be when his blood is up."
"And you weren't concerned for your own safety?” asked Perrone.
Her head swiveled back and forth. “No. Though he shouts and berates, he's never raised a hand to me. At least, not until tonight."
"Tell us,” urged Perrone.
"I reiterated that I wanted the girl out of here. He shouted something like, ‘You never want me to have anyone! You don't want me to be happy!’ As if I would deny him his life. As I said, the boy is delusional. Anyway, we kept arguing back and forth, the poor girl having to listen to the whole thing, until finally Jimmy grabbed the screwdriver. His face was ... I've never seen him like that, the pure anger, the rage. He stepped toward me, shouting—and I'll never forget this—He said, ‘I'll take you apart piece by piece!’ Can you imagine such a grisly notion?"
"Hard to believe,” straight-faced Stockel.
The old woman ignored him and pressed on. “He stood over me, raising that screwdriver, red in the face, spittle flying from his mouth. I have to admit I was frightened to death, but I stood my ground. As calmly as I could I said, ‘Jimmy, you don't want to do this. Please send the girl away and we'll get you the help you need.’ He stared at me with his eyes so huge, still intending to use the screwdriver. Then I heard the girl in the corner shout, ‘You're messed up!', though she peppered it with some very unladylike language. Something seemed to snap in Jimmy. He turned and rushed toward her, stabbing her over and over. I shouted for him to stop, but he didn't. Not until he'd tuckered himself out. That poor, poor girl."
Perrone glanced across the room. Serena Mayes was dead on the floor, slick with blood, eyes gouged out. Crime-scene investigators continued their examination of the room.
"One of the neighbors must have called nine-one-one. All the noise and everything.” She coughed, a deep throaty rumble, too big to be coming from such a tiny thing.
Stockel decided to play good cop. “Would you like a glass of water for that cough, ma'am?"
"Is that some sort of joke about our act, Detective?"
"No joke, ma'am. I told you before, I've got no sense of humor. If I did, I wouldn't be so irritated standing here talking to you."
Stockel turned to his older, more patient partner. “Really, man, how long are we going to play this game? HE's the one we've got to talk to."
He jabbed a stubby finger at Jimmy, the young man with the blood-spattered shirt and the stone-frozen grin on his face, sitting before them.
"We ARE talking to him,” said Perrone. “And he's been quite helpful."
"Thank you, Detective. Thank you for understanding,” said the old woman sitting on Jimmy's lap.
"We'll make sure your son gets the help he needs,” comforted Perrone.
"Thank you."
Stockel rolled his eyes.
Perrone got the attention of a uniformed officer near the door.
The cop came over, placed an arm on Jimmy's shoulder.
"Take him downtown and park him in interrogation room three,” said Perrone. “I'll be there when I can. Have Doc Wozer take a crack. Be sure he knows the kid won't respond to questions, but his mother's plenty talkative."
The officer scrunched his eyebrows, baffled.
Stockel translated, “Tell Doc to talk to the dummy."
At that, the old wooden woman stared at him with eyelids at half-mast, affecting a glare. Jimmy did the same, a scowl affixed to his visage in mimicry of his mother-puppet.
"You're an unpleasant man, Detective,” said the ventriloquist's dummy.
"You said that already,” replied Stockel. Then he stared Jimmy in the eye. “You're not half bad at that, kid. Too bad you're nuts."
Jimmy carried the wooden Mrs. Santoni in the crook of his arm as he was led away by the officer and out the door.
"There goes one disturbed individual,” sadly intoned Perrone.
Stockel crossed to an old wooden steamer trunk on the table, one end of it decorated with peeling decals from various ports of call, its leather carrying strap cracked with age. He lifted the lid, looked inside at the red velvet lining. “He should've kept her locked up.” Then he pondered, “You think they'll let him take her to the joint with him?"
"That'd be something,” said Perrone.
Stockel once again surveyed the crime scene and shook his head. “Man ... the paperwork."
©2009 by Brian Muir
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Reviews: BLOG BYTES by Bill Crider
"Two-Sentence Tuesday” is a blog meme. “What's a meme?” you ask. Well, it's an idea that spreads rapidly from one blog to another. Remember the “Friday's Forgotten Books” meme? It's like that. If you don't remember that meme, check out Patti Abbott's blog (pattinase.blogspot.com) any Friday
. But I digress. The Two-Sentence Tuesday meme originated, I believe, on the Women of Mystery blog, so let's start there. It's a group blog, and the participants are Terrie Farley Moran, G. A. Stockton, Laura K. Curtis, Elaine Will Sparber, Nan Higginson, Clare2e, and Lois Karlin. Their usual topics are whatever happens to strike their fancy: books, writing, and even other memes, like “My Town Monday.” But on Tuesdays, it's two-sentence day, usually two sentences from the book or story the blogger is working on and two from a book she's reading. The sentences are followed by commentary on the part they play in the story or what they might mean. You'll also find links to other blogs that are participating in the meme. Interesting stuff.
The Outfit (theoutfitcollective.blogspot.com) is another group blog, “a collective of Chicago writers,” including Sean Chercover, Barbara D'Amato, Michael Allen Dymmoch, Kevin Guilfoile, Libby Hellmann, Sara Paretsky, and Marcus Sakey. With a group like that, something's always going on, whether it's Sakey's rant about his iPhone, D'Amato's reflections on R. D. Wingfield's novels about Detective Inspector Jack Frost, or Guilfoile's discussion of the Museum of Online Museums. This is clearly a group you need to be reading.
Since it seems as if we're doing group blogs this month, I'll go ahead and tell you about The Cozy Chicks (www.cozychicksblog.com), who claim that on their blog you'll find “the online coffee and chat salon of chick-lit/cozy mystery authors Diana Killian, Karen MacInerney, Michele Scott, Maggie Sefton, JB Stanley, Heather Webber, and Kate Collins.” They post regularly “about [their] writing, [their] lives, [their] latest releases ... even where [they]'ll be popping up next.” You want to know whether it's more fun to edit your manuscript or get a root canal? You've come to the right place. How about the dangers of fluoride in the water? That's there, too. The smell of canned tuna? Check. Recipe for all-purpose gravy? Hey, this is a cozy blog. You gotta have a recipe. Give it a try.
©2009 by Bill Crider
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Department: 2008 READERS AWARD
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Doug Allyn
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Kristine Kathryn Rusch
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Brendan DuBois
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This year's Readers Award winner, Kristine Kathryn Rusch, placed first in the competition once before, in 1998, for her story “Details.” Her 2008 winner, “The Secret Lives of Cats” (7/08) is based on a most unusual idea: solving crime with the help of camera-bearing neighborhood pets. Ms. Rusch once served as the editor of Fantasy & Science Fiction magazine. She currently writes both mystery and science fiction; in the mystery field she's won three Edgars and a Herodotus Award for Best Historical Mystery. She tells us that the most meaningful of all her honors, though, are her readers awards. She's won them not only from EQMM, but from our sister publication Asimov's Science Fiction magazine.
Perennial reader favorite Doug Allyn took second place this year with only a hair's breadth separating him from the top spot. His non-series tale “The Sonnets of September” (7/08), set on a college campus, has all the elements of the best Allyn stories: engaging characters, a compelling moral dilemma, masterful evocation of place, suspenseful pacing, and a moving conclusion to the story's conflicts. Mr. Allyn is an Edgar winner as well as a multiple EQMM Readers Award winner.
EQMM was the publisher of Brendan DuBois’ first story in print, in 1986. This year he hopes to see his 100th story published. He's been a Readers Award finalist before, placing second in 1995. He's also made a name for himself as a thriller writer, and as the creator of a series featuring former DOD worker Lewis Cole, whose latest novel-length case is Killer Waves. The two-time Shamus award winner's third place finisher this year is “The Blue Plate Special” (3-4/08).
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Fourth ... “Too Wise” by O'Neil De Noux
Fifth ... “Keller the Dogkiller” by Lawrence Block
Sixth ... “Who's Afraid of Nero Wolfe?” by Loren D. Estleman
Seventh ... “Manila Burning” by Clark Howard
Eighth ... “Body and Fender” by James H. Cobb
Ninth ... “The Moorhead House” by Kristine Kathryn Rusch
Tenth ... “A Scandal in Montreal” by Edward D. Hoch
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Reviews: THE JURY BOX by Jon L. Breen
Of the increasing number of mysteries with a religious background, some feature sleuths in the tradition of Father Brown, Rabbi Small, Sister Ursula, and Brother Cadfael. Others exploit sacred institutions as a backdrop for bizarre crimes. While some are celebratory and inspirational, others are skeptical and debunking; some ad-dress real moral and theological conflicts, and others expose charlatans and hypocrites. Beginning the round-up below are two polemical novels that come from very different places on the social/political/culture wars spectrum. Both explore contemporary religious issues with unusual depth and (allowing for their disparate vantage points) balance.
*** Jane Haddam: Living Witness, Minotaur, $25.95. The controversy over Intelligent Design in the public school curriculum of a small Pennsylvania town culminates in a life-threatening attack on a nonagenarian gadfly and two subsequent murders. Former FBI agent and latter-day supersleuth Gregor Demarkian investigates, leaving to his blueblood Philadelphia fiancee the contentious planning of their coming wedding, which involves its own religious controversy. Haddam specializes in intricate puzzle plotting, well-realizedcharacters, and clear-headed exploration of ideas and issues.
*** Larry Beinhart: Salvation Boulevard, Nation Books, $24.95. When an atheist college professor at a fictitious Southwestern university is murdered and an Islamic student is accused, his Jewish defense attorney employs a born-again Christian P.I., who belongs to the congregation of a charismatic televangelist. Though some of the melodramatic developments and character reversals strain belief, this expertly written and consistently absorbing thriller has a surprisingly thoughtful and nuanced con- sideration of contemporary religious views. A closing note indicates that the outrageous scam at the center of the plot has a precedent in recent history.
*** Ben Rehder: Holy Moly, St. Martin's Minotaur, $24.95. The skull of a prehistoric Alamosaurus is found by a backhoe operator on the property of yet another fundamentalist televangelist, this one of the prosperity gospel type. Competing values—the bone's monetary and embarrassment potential—send a variety of well-drawn characters after this archaeologicalMacGuffin, whilegame warden John Marlin investigatesthe bow-and-arrow murder of the backhoe driver. This fast-moving, cross-cutting farcical mystery bears comparisonto Donald E. Westlake's comic thrillers. Ifyou guess the murderer,you're good.
*** Kate Charles: Deep Waters, Poisoned Pen, $24.95. In her third outing, young Anglican curate Callie Anson, a likeable and fully realized character, confronts problems romantic (her relationship with a Roman Catholic cop), domestic (her necessary co-existence with the vicar's wife), and professional (dealing with the family of an infant who may have been murdered). The baby is the daughter of dimwitted short-term celebrities Jodee and Chazz, known for their graphic coupling on a British TV reality show. The solutions to the baby's death and another suspected murder may not satisfy fans of formal detection, but I can highly recommend this novel for its smooth style, expert management of a large cast of interesting people, and insights into 21st-century attitudes to fame and celebrity.
*** Linda Berry: Death and the Crossed Wires, Five Star, $25.95. At the beginning of the sixth case for Georgia police-womanTrudy Roundtree, a youth pastor about to baptize a teenage girl is electrocuted before the stunned congregation. This is a strong example of the small-town procedural. The easy, humorous first-person narrative brings a range of believable characters to life; the plot is agreeably complex; and though the murderer is not a surprise, the motivation is interesting.
*** Cassandra Clark: Hangman Blind, Minotaur, $24.95. In 1382 Yorkshire, Sister Hildegard sets out on an unaccompanied journey hoping to establish her own small abbey house. Multiple murders complicate her mi
ssion. This first in a very promising new historical series is especially strong on setting the scene, establishing the historical and political context, and elucidating the attitudes and conflicts of the characters. The practical and business aspects of medieval religious life receive more emphasis than in some other series.
*** Carolyn Hart: Ghost at Work, Morrow, $24.95. Admirers of Blithe Spirit, Topper, and other works in which an-gels or ghosts help or bedevil the living, will find an enjoyable fresh variation inthis farcical fantasy. The comforting Biblical Heaven depicted honors earthly memories and activities somewhat like Richard Matheson's in the 1978 novel What Dreams May Com. Bailey Ruth Raeburn, who diedfairly recently but before the prevalence of cell phones and computers, is a new recruit to the Department of Good Intentions, whose emissaries are expected to keep their interventions as low-key subtle as possible when returning to Earth. But Bailey Ruth is dispatched to her Oklahoma hometown,Adelaide, to assist the Episcopal pastor's wife, who has found a dead bodyon the back porch of the rectory, before she can fully study the rules and almost immediately starts improvising in the tradition of Clarence in It's a Wonderful Life. Though the sleuth is supernatural, the agreeably tricky whodunit is grounded in earthly reality.
** Paul Charles: Dust of Death, Brandon/Dufour, $36.95. The first novel about small-town Ireland's Inspector Starrett, a one-named bachelor in the Morse tradition, concerns a carpenter found crucified in the sanctuary of the Second Federation Church. The American-based denomination has a very odd theology and, in its only foreign outpost, a distinctly uncharismatic pastor. The solution isn't quite as good as the tantalizing problem, but strong style, characterization, and sense of place suggest future books may reach the level of the author's established Christy Kennedy series.
** Aimee and David Thurlo: The Prodigal Nun, St. Martin's Minotaur, $24.95. The fourth outing for Sister Agatha, former journalist and extern nun (i.e.,one allowed to deal with society outside the monastery) for a cloistered New Mexico order, concerns the murder of amass attendee in the chapel parking lot.Sometimes other strengths—here,intriguing plot, unusual background,and engaging characters—can compensate for flat, by-the-numbers prose and dialogue. (By evidence of the bestseller lists, this happens quite a lot.)
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