Crime Fiction Friday: MORE RIGHT THAN WRONG, by Tim O’Mara

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Tim O’Mara is a writer who just keeps on getting better and better, as proved by his latest Ray Donne mystery, Dead Red, which was released this week. Here he gives us a tale of payment due for past sins.

“More Right Than Wrong,” by Tim O’Mara

At first, Dr. Stuart Wiseman thought the stabbing pain in his lower back was his sciatica acting up again and he was pretty annoyed about that. He’d been taking his medications, no longer sleeping on his side, doing all the stretches. What the hell?

It took about five seconds for him to realize the stabbing pain was a stabbing pain; someone was actually sticking a knife under his sports jacket and into his back, just above the belt. His anger turned to fear as someone leaned into his ear and whispered, “If I push this and twist, I’ll be gone before you hit the sidewalk.”

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MysteryPeople Review: DEAD RED, by Tim O’Mara

With Sacrifice Fly and Crooked Numbers, Tim O’Mara created a series that had me hooked. His books featuring New York ex-cop turned high school teacher, Raymond Donne, have developed into smart comfort reads, giving the reader an engaging plot with a human touch and social awareness that never comes off preachy. With his latest, Dead Red, O’Mara steps up his game even more.

O’Mara has established his characters in previous novels: now he lets them run and run they do. The first sentence puts us right in the middle of an execution inside a cab that Donne survives. The cabbie, Ricky Torres, recently returned from service in Iraq and a fellow officer from his police days, has something he needs to tell Ray. The bullets, unfortunately, interrupt their conversation. This kicks off the mystery and a new direction in the series.

While the first two books dealt with the students in Donne’s present occupation, this murder pushes him back into his police past. He finds himself having to team up with his former partner, Jack Knight, now working as a PI. Knight had Ricky helping him search for the missing daughter of a PR mogul. Ray doesn’t seem to have many good memories about the partnership, but he must renew their partnership to get to the bottom of the mystery.

O’Mara works on all cylinders as a storyteller. It is his best plotting yet with a story of love, guns, and politics moving at a steady canter with a great number of twists and turns. He is able to perfectly slip in all of Ray’s friends and family we have gotten to know and subtlety integrates themes of partnership and duty. The story also forces Ray to confront his former profession in a way that he’s been dodging before.

Dead Red works as a great introduction to Ray Donne and is an extreme pleasure to those already invested in the series. O’Mara, in his latest, shows the progress Sacrifice Fly promised. He also demonstrates that there is more to come; for the characters, and for the series.


Copies of  Dead Red are available on our shelves and via bookpeople.com

Three Picks for January

Here are three new releases from some of our favorite authors to herald in the New Year. With such good reads to start out the year, 2015 is sure to be full of many more top notch mysteries.


 

the martini shot

Martini Shot by George Pelecanos

Martini Shot is a collection of the short work of D.C. crime writer George Pelecanos, including a new novella dealing with the TV and film business the collection is named after. Everything great about modern hard-boiled writing is encapsulated by the work of Pelecanos.


dead red  Dead Red by Tim O’Mara

High school teacher Ray Donne is pulled into his policeman past when an ex-cop friend is murdered in front of him inside a cab. To find the killer he has to team up with his shady former partner. The best book in an already great series.

 


mr kiss and tell   Mr. Kiss And Tell by Rob Thomas & Jennifer Graham

The second Veronica Mars book has the Neptune private eye looking into an assault in a ritzy hotel where both staff and victim can’t be trusted. Rob Thomas will be January 30th, at 7 pm to speak and sign. Jennifer Graham will join the Seven Percent Book Club February 2nd, at 7 pm, in discussing this fantastic addition to the series.


You can find copies of the books listed above on our shelves and via bookpeople.com.

Cops, Teachers & Swingers: Austin’s Next Noir at the Bar

One of the reasons we put together our Noir At The Bar series is to introduce Austin to crime fiction writers who are not getting the attention they deserve. On Monday, July 7th at Opal Divine’s, we hope to put some top tier talent on your radar with our latest Noir at the Bar. Whether you like police action, hard boiled mystery, or dark, strange stories, we’ll have an author you need to know.

Dan O’Shea writes a cop novel like no other. In the latest book in his series featuring detective John Lynch, Greed, a soldier of fortune brings blood diamonds into Chicago to sell, putting Lynch in the middle of drug cartels, terrorist cells, government agencies, a spoiled actor who puts out a mob contract, and a lot of bullets. O’Shea gives us an intense shoot-out and chase finale that lasts for a hundred pages. Dan’s John Lynch books have a great mix of literary plotting and scope, with a cinematic pace and attitude.

Tim O’Mara’s character is Raymond Donne, an ex-cop who now works as a teacher in a Brooklyn school. The last novel, Crooked Numbers, had Ray looking into the murder of his former student, which involved family, class, and an unusual crime. O’Mara plays with moods and tone like an expert jazz musician.

For something completely different, we have Jonathan Woods. His first short story collection, Bad JuJu, was like a bunch of wonderful experiments brought to life by a mad noir scientist. His new collection, Phone Call From Hell, has crime, kinky sex, barbecue, and an appearance by Charles Manson. As wild and strange as his tales are, there is a skilled level of loose craftsmanship that’s to be admired. One of the stories, “Swingers Anonymous” is being turned into a film.

So come out to Opal Divine’s at 360 South Congress on Monday, July 7th at 7PM to meet these authors. Austin musician and author Jesse Sublett will provide both a music and a reading. Books by the authors will be available for sale. Grab a drink, hold on to your fedora, and prepare to be blown away by a new wave of crime fiction.

The May 11th Alibi: Noir At The Bar Roundup

Noir at the Bar w Ace 5.11.14(Order of appearance, left to right: Ace Atkins, George Wier, Jesse Sublett, Jim Wilsky, Scott Montgomery)

Our May 11th Austin Noir At The Bar was one of our best and biggest. Folks braved the storm warnings to come out and see Ace Atkins, Jesse Sublett, George Wier, and Jim Wilsky, who all provided enough thunder and lightning of their own to give the weather outside a run for its money.

After a couple of murder ballads from Jesse Sublett, Jim Wilsky got up for his first ever public reading. He explained that as a businessman, he’s spoken in front of thousands, “but this ain’t business.” Jim proved he was all business, delivering some of the hardest of the hard boiled, reading from his co-authored book, Blood On Blood.

Next, introducing George Wier, I tried something different- I said nice things about him. George reciprocated by giving us one of his best readings. His dead man in the middle of a bunch of east Texas bar denizens had everyone laughing.

Our headliner, Ace Atkins, who’s latest novel, Cheap Shot, continues the adventures of Robert B. Parker’s character, Spenser, was next. Reading from the first book from his own Quinn Colson series, The Ranger, Ace told us that he had been aiming for the feel of a Johnny Cash ballad. The excerpt certainly proved that he had captured the spirit of the man in black.

As is tradition, Jesse wrapped everything up with a reading. He read a passage from Grave Digger Blues from the perspective of his musician character, The Blues Cat. He read with such a rich rhythm, you could almost hear the cool bass playing in the background.

If you missed out or can’t wait for the next one, you’re in luck. We’ll be doing another Noir At The Bar on July 7th with Tim O’Mara, Dan O’Shea, and other authors to be named later. Ace will also be back on July 28th, signing and discussing his latest Quinn Colson novel, The Forsaken. Because when it comes to Noir At The Bar, the party never ends.

New York State of Mind

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Our Pick Of The Month, Crooked Numbers by Tim O’Mara, uses New York City as a rich canvas. His hero, Ray Donne, is a man involved deeply with his city and its citizens. When we asked Tim to give us five of his favorite New York novels, his respnse was, “Only Five?” Here they are in no particular order.

purchase here12 Angry Men by Reginald Rose, David Mamet

“Not a book, but a play, which we still teach at my middle school — 12 Angry Men. Reginald Rose created a dozen NY men who could not be more different than each other and stuck them in a hot jury room to decide the life and death of a kid they didn’t know. In the midst of this drama, the city is calling to each of them from outside; some hear the call as a reason to just get through the decision as quickly as they can and others as a call for justice. You never “see” the city in the play, but it’s there inside each of these men.”

purchase hereWhen the Sacred Ginmill Closes by Lawrence Block

“When the Sacred Ginmill Closes was my introduction to Lawrence Block and Matt Scudder. There are bodies, thieves, New York baddies and weirdos galore, but it’s a story of a man who begins to realize he doesn’t like himself when he’s drinking–and he’s always drinking. I admire the was Block shows his respect for this deeply flawed character; and throughout the story, and other Scudder books that followed, slowly allowed Scudder to redeem himself.”

Slow Motion Riot by Peter Blauner

Peter Blauner’s Slow Motion Riot floored me. His “hero” is a probation officer–with a liking for the booze, as well–who gets caught up in an out-of-control situation involving one of his parolees, who just happens to be a violent sociopath. Blauner gives us an insider’s view into one of NYC’s more dysfunctional agencies and the politics behind it.

purchase hereBodega Dreams by Ernesto Quinonez

Bodega Dreams by Ernesto Quinonez taught me not only how to write cliché-free about life in the projects, but also how to make fiction read like memoir. Quinonez poured his heart and soul–corazon y alma–into this book and I’d love to sit with him one day and talk about the “real” parts of this book and those he made up.

purchase herepurchase hereFranny and Zooey  and Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters and Seymour: An Introduction by J. D. Salinger

And, to get away from the crime stuff, JD Salinger’s Franny and Zooey and Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters and Seymour: An Introduction. Short stories by one of the masters of the form. These stories are better–more laser like–than Catcher in the Rye. Here Salinger’s taking snapshots of the people and the places–mostly wealthy–he knows well. Not all the stories take place in NYC, but the city runs through these characters’ blood.

Crime Friction Friday: CHARACTER STUDY by Tim O’Mara

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Tim O’Mara’s Crooked Numbers is our pick of the month for October. In it, he shows a great feel for his New York streets. He was kind enough to share this shorter tale from the Big Apple that makes us here at MysteryPeople wonder about his “technique”.

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CHARACTER STUDY
by Tim O’Mara

“I knew it,” he said aloud to no one as he examined what used to be the rear passenger-side window of his car and looked at the broken glass littering the empty seat that had earlier held his laptop. “Leave something out in the open like that and it’s just a matter of time.”

He removed his cell phone from his jacket pocket, found the GPS app, and turned it on. Within thirty seconds, the GPS had locked onto the device he’d installed on his laptop for just this occasion. Whoever had it, was moving west—a blue dot—towards the Hudson River, a few avenues away from where he’d parked on a Hell’s Kitchen side street. As he walked passed the Midtown North precinct, he caught himself smiling. Sure, it would be easy enough to go inside, explain to the uniform working the front desk what had happened, and sometime within the next hour or so one of the bored cops might head over to the river and look into the matter. By that time, the laptop thief would be long gone, as would his laptop.

No, this was something he needed to take care of by himself. After all, he was the one who’d left the damn thing right out in the open. Like he’d been asking for it. He zipped up his jacket, put a glove on the hand that held the cell phone and put the other hand in his pocket.

******

A wintry breeze was coming off the Hudson making the already chilly air feel about ten degrees colder. The tiny park he had entered was officially called Clinton Cove, but nobody called it that. It was usually just referred to as the Hell’s Kitchen Pier. There was a group—a gaggle, he remembered—of geese hanging out on the lawn eating what was left of the brown grass and crapping all over the “No Dogs Allowed” area. Come springtime, the grass would be green again, benefitting from all that free fertilizer.

The Circle of Life.

Sitting on a bench facing the water, was a solitary figure: the blue dot was now humanized. As he got nearer, he saw it was a guy in a hood-less winter jacket. Both the guy and the jacket had seen better days. He went over to a bench about twenty yards away and sat down, slipping both hands into his pockets. He looked over after a while and saw that the guy had a bulge under his jacket. If the GPS on his phone was right, the bulge was his laptop. He took in a couple of deep breaths from the cool Hudson River air and stood up.

He walked over to the guy and took a seat on the bench next to him, careful to keep the metal armrest between them. No reason to be stupid about this. The guy didn’t acknowledge his presence or even take his eyes off the river. He seemed to be in some sort of trance. High, probably. Even in the breeze, the smell of smoke could be detected coming off the guy and it wasn’t from Marlboro Country.

“Pretty cold day to be sitting along the river, huh?” the man said. He waited thirty seconds for a response, and when none came he said, “Feels good, though. Makes you feel more alive.”

The guy slowly turned his head, careful to keep his hands in his pockets protecting the bulge. He whispered something that sounded like “Duck Soup,” but probably wasn’t. The man smiled. That was good.

“What do you got there, friend?” he asked. “Under the jacket.” The guy blinked three times and turned back to look at the river. “How much you get for something like that?” “Like what?” the guy said.

“Like that.” The man motioned with his head at the bulge. “Couple of hundred?” The guy moved his head slightly and said, “Whatta you know about it?” “I know I just had my car broken into and my laptop was taken. It’s not a great laptop, about five years old, but it’s got some stuff on it that’s important to me.” The guy smiled. His adult teeth were not all present and those that were needed some serious whitening. “Not sure what you’re talking about, Mister, but why would you leave something important in the backseat of your car?”

Now it was the man’s turn to smile. His teeth were perfect. “Who said it was in the backseat?”

The lesser of the smiles disappeared and was followed by those two words that were definitely not “Duck Soup.”

“So, really,” the man said. “Whatta you hope to get? Two hundred? Three?”

The guy with the bulge under his jacket made a move to stand up. The man next to him reached out and grabbed him by the wrist.

“We’re just talking here, pal,” he said. “Shooting the breeze.” The double meaning of that made the man smiled harder. Good stuff.

“You don’t wanna be touching me, man,” the guy said. The man laughed. “What are you going to do? Call the cops?”

“Maybe.”

“With what?” the man said. “You can’t possibly have a cell phone. You broke into my car and stole a laptop from me. People like you don’t have cell phones.”

The guy shook the man’s hand off, squinted into the man’s face and said, “People like me? The hell you know about people like me?”

“I know you’ll take fifty bucks for what’s under your jacket. You’d probably take twenty, but I’m in a good mood.”

“What even makes you think it’s yours?” the guy said. “I mean, if I do have a laptop under my jacket?” The man took his phone out, showed the map on the GPS to the guy and pointed to the blue dot. The guy looked at it as if it were the designs for a nuclear submarine. He squinted again.

“Take it out,” the man said. “I’ll show you. It’s got a short story I’m working on.”

The guy gave the man the same confused look he had just given the map on the phone. “You a writer?” He sounded close to impressed.

“Yep. Almost done with this piece. I needed a little more research.”

“Writers do research? About what?” The man leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. “In my case, about what kind of scumbag breaks into someone’s car and steals a laptop. I mean, seriously, you gotta have pretty low morals to pull something like that, right?”

“I got morals.”

“We all have morals,” the man said. “Yours are just lower than most.”

The guy wiped a wind-driven tear from his eye and said, “Just ’cause I need money don’t mean I don’t got no morals, man. It means I don’t got not money.”

“And I’m sure that’s someone else’s fault right. Not a result of any decisions you’ve made over the last few years?”

“I take what I need. No more.” “You got healthcare?” “Huh?” “What do you do when you get sick?” the man asked slowly. The guy laughed like that was the stupidest question he’d ever heard. “I go to the doctor, man. Plant my ass in the ER ’til someone comes to look at me.”

“And who do you think pays for that?”

“I don’t know. Jesus?”

“Me. The taxpayer pays for that. That’s just as bad as you breaking into my car and stealing what’s mine.”

The guy thought about that for a bit, looking for something to say. What he cameup with was, “My parents pay taxes, so I’m just taking my inheritance early.” That was good, too.

“When’s the last time you were in jail?” the man asked.

“Hey, Mister. I do drugs, not time. I shoot junk, not bullets.”

The man smiled. This guy was great. “Okay if I steal that from you?”

“For one of your stories?”

“For this story.”

Confusion once again took over the guy’s face and he went back to squinting. “This ain’t no story, man.”

“Sure it is. I had something you wanted. Now you have something I want. The fact that it’s the same thing connects us.” He did that back and forth thing people do with their index fingers to signal making a connection. “That’s what makes this a story. Our wants are not only the same they’re in conflict. It’s beautiful.”

The guy thought about that and then allowed the laptop to slide out from under his jacket. “That mean you gonna give me two hundred for this?”

The man laughed. “I said fifty.”

“You also said you had important stuff on here.” For a junkie, this guy was a good listener.

“Let’s make it a hundred then.” Bargaining. As if he had any real intention of paying this guy anything. The man pulled out the five twenties he had in his jacket, fanned them out, and let them flap in the breeze.

The guy was mesmerized by the five bills waving back and forth, and handed over the laptop. When he reached for the money, the man pulled it back.

The guy stood up on wobbly legs, listed slightly in the breeze and mumbled something that sounded like “Gimme the duck and money.”

The man stood also. “You’re kidding, right? You think I’d actually pay for something that’s already mine? That’s your view of how the world works?”

“You said you would. You said this was a conflict. I was helping you with your story. That’s worth something, right?”

The man nodded. “It is.” He looked around—there was no one else in the park except him and the guy—and pulled something out of his other pocket. “It’s worth this.”

The guy looked at it and said, “What’s that? A comb?”

“Hardly.” The man pressed a button and a blade appeared. “I know it’s a bit old school— always reminds me of Twelve Angry Men —but still a useful tool.”

The look on the guy’s face as he stared at the blade was one of confusion: Move forward or backward? He chose the first, as did the man with the knife. They met each other halfway and the blade sliced through the guy’s coat and entered his stomach. There was no more confusion on the guy’s face anymore. The look was now one of certainty. And dull pain.

The man twisted the knife, held it for a three count, and then pulled it out. He looked around again and found the park still empty except for the gaggle of geese and the guy. The guy fell to his knees and looked up at the man.

“Why?” the guy whispered.

The man looked down and smiled. “No, I’m done with motivation,” he said. “I just needed your help with character. The dialogue was a nice surprise. Thanks.” He took a few steps toward the railing, closed up the knife and flung it twenty feet into the Hudson River. When he turned back, the guy was lying on his side, trying desperately to stop the blood flowing out from under his coat onto the white pathway. Nice imagery.

This was good stuff.