A Series of Firsts

There's an old saying that goes, There is a first time for everything: The first time you ride a two-wheeler, the first time you make the baseball team, the first time you kiss a girl. But when you’re a writer, you discover there is a whole new set of Firsts waiting for you.

Your first novel

Your first submission

Your first rejection

Your first contract

… Your first bit of recognition

I’ve enjoyed a little notoriety on occasion; “Oh, you’re Danielle’s dad,” or “You’re Maggie’s husband.” That sort of thing. But this past Monday was the first time I could remember where folks have come looking for me, and didn’t want to beat the crap out of me for something I might of … probably did.

I arrived at work around my usual start time of fifteen-minutes late, and after tending to the business delagated by my morning coffee, I returned to my office to find one of the folks I work with, smiling to beat the band, waiting outside my office … for me. In her hand, she held a copy of Chain of Evidence. Amazon had shipped early.

“This arrived Saturday,” she announced. “Would you sign it for me?”

Sign it? The book? Now? But I’m not ready. I ... I have a meeting. My car has a flat. I have to phone my dentist. I think I hear my mother calling.

Yep. It was my first book signing. Random thoughts overwhelmed my pea brain.

I don’t know what to say.

What should I write?

It had to be profound!

But I’m not profound.

Maybe just scribble something illegible ... like a doctor.

We stepped into my office and sat down and she handed me her copy of my book. That in itself was a first. Another person owned a copy of a book that I wrote, and actually paid for it with cash money, but what unnerved me was the way she looked at me; as if something great was about to happen.

My stomach flipped over and I felt nauseous. The room closed in and the air became thick and warm. I began to perspire. I fumbled around for the pen in my shirt and realized my hand was shaking. I’d never felt like that before.

Another first.

I didn’t need her name. I already knew her. But I asked her what she wanted me to write in the book, because I sure as hell didn’t know.

“Just write what you always write,” she suggested.

And that’s the rub. I never wrote anything in a book before; other than my name, and that was only to prove ownership in a court of law when I went to college. Those college girls, they'll….

Never mind.

Her book was my first signing, and that’s when it dawned on me.
I opened to the first page and wrote:

Terry,

This is my first.

Hope you enjoy it.

DBC

Of course, it didn’t look nearly that good. My hand was still shaking and I signed it starting with the “B.” Glad I left some space on both sides of it for the other two initials.

So that was my first experience signing a novel, and I suppose I better get it down before the launch in two weeks. There will be many people there, and not all of them family and friends. There will be folks in attendance that have decided I am worthy of their time and have indicated they would like to come celebrate this achievement with me, and while I resist using the word “Fans,” I want everyone to know how much I appreciate their interest in my work.

Hopefully, you’ll be interested in the next one too.

Thank you, all.

DB

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An interview with Detective-Sergeant “Moby” Truax, lead detective in Chain of Evidence

Good evening. I am your host, DB Corey, and tonight I’d like to welcome Detective-Sergeant Jacob “Moby” Truax of The Maryland State Police—Special Investigations Unit. This evening we’re discussing his latest—and perhaps his final—assignment: The Cyanide Killer case.

Hello, Detective Truax. It is, Tru-ax, correct?

That’s right. Two syllables.

Great, I just wanted to be sure. So thank you for granting my request for an interview. I know there are aspects of The Cyanide Killer case that you cannot discuss, so we’ll just try to work around them, OK?

My listeners have submitted a number of questions, hoping to quell their curiosity regarding Chain of Evidence, so if you don’t mind, I’ll get right to them.

Corey: This question comes from Hanna Braver. She’d like to know how you came by such an interesting, and unusual, nickname.

Truax: Ms. Braver. Thank you for your question. I came by the name Moby in the 8^th grade. One of our class assignments was to read Moby Dick by Herman Melville, and write a 20-page book report. Our teacher wanted the top three scores to give oral reports to the class. Mine was the 2^nd reading.

When she handed back my report to read aloud, I told her I didn’t need it and recited it word for word as she followed along. She didn’t know that I possessed a photographic memory. It was as if I was reading from the page. She was so impressed that she had me address the entire 8^th grade class during an assembly. I was mortified, standing there center stage, and my buddies never let me live it down. They started calling me Moby. The name stuck.

Corey: Well, Detective, after hearing that, I feel the need to ask a question of my own. What sort of advantage does your eidetic memory give you in your work? Does it give you an edge in your investigations, or your interrogations of suspects?

Truax: There was a time, when I was young, that my photographic memory was what the kids today might call, a “mad” skill. But it wasn’t a skill at all. It was a gift. I could remember everything I was ever exposed to: dates, names, events, numbers, faces.... There were no limits. It was like a super power when it came to police work.

Corey: You speak of it in the past tense, Detective. Why is that?

Truax: Because I no longer possess it. I am nearing 60, the state’s age of mandatory retirement. Memory fades as one gets older, even a photographic one. Now I’m lucky if I can remember what I did yesterday.

Corey: I’m sorry to hear that, Detective. I expect it’s quite a loss.

Truax: To say the least.

Corey: But you must be looking forward to retirement. Do you have any plans, other than fishing?

Truax: I’d like to say I’m looking forward to retirement, but truth is I can’t afford it. Have you been paying attention to the economy, Mr. Corey? Our illustrious government has spent the state into poverty and has decimated the pensions of retirees to cover the shortfalls. Now they have their eye on those of us nearing retirement. They’re just looking for a reason to send us on our way in order to cut our pensions. They’re hiring college kids for a fraction of what they pay tenured cops, and if I screw up this investigation, my new captain will have my job.

Corey: Ah ... yes. So, we have another question here, from a Ms. Natalie Bowman. She’d like to know why is it you haven’t apprehended The Cyanide Killer yet. She says she’s afraid to leave her house and that the police have had plenty of time to catch him. 

Truax: Not all homicides are cut and dried, Ms. Bowman. I can’t divulge too much, but suffice it to say that this investigation does not follow what we would call normal patterns. For example, the killer’s MO has changed since the earliest victims. Those were older women. The more recent victims are younger, prettier. But the toxin used in each homicide is identical across the board. The evidence points to a single killer, but I’m not so sure.

Corey: Sounds like you have a different theory.

Truax: I believe there is a copycat at work, but my captain has ordered me to focus on a single killer. True, the weapon is identical in all cases, but from what I see, that’s the only similarity.

Corey: An identical weapon? Isn’t that enough to go on?

Truax: Not for me. But as I said earlier, the captain is looking for a reason to unload my kind. He’s gone as far as to cozy up to the FBI—saddled me with a “partner;” I have her card right here. Special Agent Francis Vecchio. I call her Frankie. She hates it, so all the more reason to stay with it. She’s an attractive gal, and if I were 30 years younger I might have a go at her. But to my old-school way of thinking, she doesn’t know much about detective work. Keeps asking stupid questions and flashing her cleavage. I think my captain put her with me as a spy, or at the very least, a distraction. I must be careful around her.

Corey: An attractive partner? Well, Detective, I suppose there are worse ways to go. So I see the phone lines are lighting up, so how about we take a call?”

Truax: Sure.

Corey: Hello caller. You’re on with Detective Truax.

Woman Caller: Detective Truax, from what I’ve heard, you sound old. Ah, ol-der. I don’t mean to be judgmental, but isn’t there someone else that could take this Cyanide case? Maybe someone younger?

Truax: Huh.... Sure there is. And I wish the captain saw fit to assign it to one of his young hotshots. The last thing I need at my age is to chase a serial killer, especially one who leaves nothing behind. 

Woman Caller: But you just said you think there is a copycat out there. That means two killers, right?

Truax: Like I said ... the last thing I need.

Corey: We have another caller. You are on the line.

Male Caller: I work in the department, Detective, and I hear things.

Truax: Yeah? Like what?

Male Caller: Your Captain Atkins isn’t going to wait much longer for you to make some progress in the case. There are rumors he’s looking for a reason to replace you.

Truax: I thought I said that.

Male Caller: And when he does, what will you do then, Detective? You’re running out of time, Truax. So is your career. You’d better hurry. You’re in the way. People are waiting to step in.

Truax: Who is this?

Corey: Oh.... They hung up. You have an enemy, Detective.

Truax: More than one. That sounded like Atkins’s Golden Boy, Nichols; brown-nosing as—

BLAT! BLAT! BLAT!

Truax: What the hell was that?

Corey: Our engineer hit the dump button. I’m afraid you can’t use that kind of language on the air.

Truax: Huh....

Corey: It’s just as well, because I’m afraid that’s all the time we have for this evening. I apologize to those listeners and callers who didn’t have their questions answered, and perhaps Detective Truax will consent to come on with me another time to address them?

Truax: Yeah, sure I will. And once I make the connection of the younger victims to the older ones, I’ll solve the Cyanide Killings. Maybe, I’ll even write a book. God knows I could use the money.     

Corey:  Now that’s something I would enjoy reading. I’ll look forward to it. And I know a good publisher when you’re ready. So that’s it for tonight. Thanks for joining us, and I’ll look forward to hearing from all of you again.  

Good night, one and all, and please don’t text and drive. It’s bad for your health.

G’night now.

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