Yet Baltimore really is Smalltimore, and when I turned to a neighbor to help me research a day-in-the-life of an assistant U.S. attorney, I found out I was talking to one of the two coworkers who delivered eulogies at Luna's funeral. I am extremely grateful to AUSA Bonnie Greenberg and keen that this be understood: Nothing in this book is meant to reflect on the life of Luna, a man about whom I know almost nothing. The same is true of Luna's family, friends, and coworkers.
To continue the Smalltimore theme, I am indebted to Julian "Jack" Lapides, a longtime family friend, for some crucial background on probate and safe-deposit boxes.
Randy Curry, part of the multigenerational family that has run Rehoboth's Playland since 1962, gave me some insight into how a seaside amusement park readies itself for summer. There is no Frank's FunWorld, alas, but if you're looking for a good time on the Delaware seashore, Skeeball at Playland is still twenty-five cents for nine balls. Curry also confirmed my long-held belief that you must bank your shots to get the highest possible score.
Books, articles, the Frontline documentary The Man Who Knew, and other sources provided insight into the day-to-day life of an FBI agent. John O'Neill was killed on September 11, 2001, in his new capacity as director of security for the World Trade Towers—a job that he took, in part, because he felt he had been unfairly scapegoated by the FBI. A source that must remain anonymous was extremely helpful in detailing the ins and outs of the federal justice system.
I learned about the Baltimore Four, a precursor to the better-known Catonsville Nine, from Brendan Walsh of Viva House. Brendan and his wife, Willa Bickham, hate it when they're singled out for credit—and here I am, doing it twice in one book. Dave White provided another esoteric bit of knowledge for Crow, while Mike Ollove deserves credit for the best headline that the Sun never used. Thanks to David Simon, whose chance remark inspired this novel. Like Tess, I'm listening even when you think I'm not.
Finally, it's worth pointing out that there were 269 homicides in Baltimore last year—a slight decrease from 2004, but far from the large-scale reduction promised by Mayor Martin O'Malley when he ran for office in 1999. As I write this, the city has just paid five hundred thousand dollars to a consultant to help remake its image in the eyes of tourists and convention planners. But visitors to our city enjoy remarkable safety in an increasingly vibrant downtown. It's our own citizens, in neighborhoods where executives would never want to tamper, to paraphrase a favorite poet, who are most at risk. I'm just saying.
LAURA LIPPMAN
Baltimore, Maryland
December 2005
About the Author
LAURA LIPPMAN was a Baltimore Sun reporter for twelve years. Her novels have been awarded every major prize in crime fiction. The first-ever recipient of the Mayor's Prize for Literary Excellence, she lives in Baltimore, Maryland.
www.lauralippman.com
ALSO BY LAURA LIPPMAN
To the Power of Three
By a Spider's Thread
Every Secret Thing
The Last Place
In a Strange City
The Sugar House
In Big Trouble
Butchers Hill
Charm City
Baltimore Blues
Credits
Jacket design by Marc J. Cohen
Jacket photographs: reflection of woman © by age fotostock/SuperStock; water by National Geographic/Getty Images
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