Hard Case VII - Red Waves (John Harding Series Book 7) (23 page)

“Shush now, my darlings,” Lynn cooed. “I know you believe we’re all so stupid we can barely walk upright. That’s okay, but it’s time to be silent. I bet none of you have ever been to an acupuncture podiatry clinic. I actually have one. I’m Doctor Crue. Feet are my specialty now. My assistant, the Cheeseburger, will be making sure Doctor Crue’s senses are not assaulted by smelly feet. Is that not correct, my big helper?”

“Yes, Doctor Crue,” I agreed in form. “I’ll clean the watering demonstration too so we don’t lose our security deposit. Would you like me to wash off Jillian’s head? I wish we could leave her as is but you know what Lucas will do if he smells anything out of the ordinary in the action van.”

“Quite right. Handle that too for me. Now, where was I? Oh yes, and you darlings will love this. We have a special guest star, Dr. Muerto. I’m hoping we can talk Dr. Muerto into working his magic on all of you too. He has a special intestinal cleaning treatment not to be missed later at our spa, Pain Central.”

The one still in his mask was a little slow on the uptake. “Dr. Muerto? Wait… Muerto means death or dead one.”

“I’m so happy you noticed,” Lynn replied. “You can go with the English version. He won’t mind if you simply call him Dr. Death.”

* * *

“I’m surprised you haven’t done any book signings before in Carmel,” Gus commented while siting with Nick, Jean, and John, watching the store owner open the door. “This Pilgrim’s Way Books is a very famous tourist attraction.”

Nick shrugged. “They never asked. There are pulp fiction fans everywhere but maybe the owners were a bit hesitant about having a pulp fiction author do a signing. Besides, I doubt they knew I lived here or who I am. I don’t have my address on the novels or internet.”

Jean giggled. “They don’t know you anyway, Muerto.”

“Okay you,” Nick retorted. “What have we talked about, young Viper? This is a very public place. You asked to come along but I can have your Mom come and get you.”

“I’m sorry,” Jean replied. “I couldn’t pass that opportunity. Like Lynn says, ‘it is what it is’.”

“Naturally, you bonded with the most dangerous female on the planet.”

“She’s funny and dangerous. I learned some of her remarks to throw at you at the appropriate moments.”

“You mean inappropriate moments,” Nick said. “We’re only here for a three hour window from now until noon. Please don’t make comments if I get heckled, okay?”

Jean’s eyes narrowed. “Heckled? Oh… you mean like when the BK’s show up to rip you apart for typos, grammar mistakes, and some just to mess with you.”

“They’re not all book killers as in the one star and two star drive-by hit piece reviewers, hoping to kill book sales. We get the honest ones who saw the ad for my signing and decide to stop by to voice a criticism. It’s all in good fun.”

“You had to kill the last one in Boston,” Jean whispered to Gus and John’s amusement.

“That’s because he was a serial killer stalking us,” Nick whispered back. “Let’s concentrate on having some fun. You wanted to see what a signing was like from beside me.”

“BK’s are fun, Jean,” John remarked. “They are very entertaining. Some haven’t even read the novel but wish to belittle it loudly in front of others. This is my first time as a character, introduced in your Dad’s new novel: Dark Interlude.”

“That is really cool, Uncle John. When Uncle Gus became a character in the novels a lot of people noticed after Dad introduced him. You’ll be famous.”

“He’s a deckhand on my boat in the book,” Gus said. “The most exciting thing he does is throw fish guts in the water.”

John knew when he was being baited. He smiled. “You haven’t read Dark Interlude yet, have you, Gus?”

“I started it last night,” Gus replied with suspicion. “I read the first chapter.”

“In chapter four, Jed has a drunken affair with the captain of a boat docked next to the one our characters transport the assassin Diego in. My character, Leo Bazzi, tries to stop Jed from making a complete fool of himself but is rebuffed. Very sad.”

“No way! I see what you’re doing.”

“Ask Nick if you don’t believe me,” John replied with solemn countenance.

Gus turned immediately on the smiling Nick who was trying to keep an eye on the approaching fans while listening to his friends’ banter. “Nick?”

“Read the novel, Gus,” Nick advised with a shrug. “I have no comment on the situation with Jed’s love life.”

Gus immediately grabbed a copy of Dark Interlude, searching for any hint of what John claimed happened in the novel’s chapter four. John shook his arm.

“Third one in line. BK walking.”

Gus stopped his perusal of Dark Interlude to check on John’s suspected book killer. A tall, tightlipped, middle forties woman with short brown hair clutched a copy of Dark Interlude as if she were an owl digging talons into a mouse. She glanced constantly around the store in what could only be deemed haughty impatience.

“Good eye, John,” Nick agreed. “What do you think… clauses, went/gone, typos, commas out of place, or the tried and true offended by pulp fiction violence.”

“I’m betting something else,” Gus answered. “She looks ready to rumble.”

“Perhaps she objects to Jed’s chapter four gay affair,” John offered to muffled amusement.

“Not funny, Kabong,” Gus hissed.

Nick stood to greet the line of people. “Hi folks. I’m Nick McCarty. This is my daughter Jean beside me. My real life partners are here with me today too. Gus Nason captains our boat when we have to be on the water, and is my model for Diego’s seafaring partner Jed in my novels. He can do everything Jed does and more. Beside him is John Groves who works with us on specialty projects he adds his expertise on. I patterned Jed’s boatswain, Leo Bazzi, after John. I’m looking forward to meeting all of you in the next few hours. Let’s begin.”

The first one in line was a man who owned a large cruiser and enjoyed Gus’s character Jed. After Nick shook hands with him and signed his book he sat to talk with Gus about boating in the Caribbean while Nick talked with the second person in line. The second in line, a young twenty-something woman in a yellow summer dress handed Nick her copies of his novels Assassin’s Folly and Dark Interlude.

“Can you write to Marcie, my biggest fan?”

“Sure. I appreciate your support.” Nick went about the task of a personalized message in each before handing them back to Marcie.

“I absolutely loved the romance angle with Fatima in Dark Interlude. I pray you’ll make her a regular in your novels.”

“I plan to, Marcie. Thank you.”

Marcie walked away with a wave, allowing the suspected book killer to approach. The man talking with Gus shook hands with Gus and John before leaving a few seconds after Marcie. The suspected book killer approached and threw the tightly clutched copy of Dark Interlude on the table. Even Jean’s smiling countenance did nothing to alleviate the woman’s condescending air. She made a dismissive gesture.

“Your characters are developing a sameness and your lazy, stilted dialogue puts me to sleep. Your first novels in the Diego series, although pure pulp, did move along well. Now, your haphazard writing makes Diego seem out of character. Your attempts at humor in regard to killing make it seem as if someone else wrote the last couple novels.”

Nick’s face brightened a bit as he held out his hand. “Ms. Poofy?”

The woman hesitated before shaking Nick’s hand, startled he guessed her avatar when writing reviews. “Ah… yes, Mr. McCarty. I guess there may be a sameness in my reviews.”

Nick signed her copy of Dark Interlude. “Thanks for stopping by. Nice to see you in person and know you live nearby.”

“Don’t you have anything to say about my critique of your novels?”

“There’s not much to say, Ms. Poofy. I write an assassin series with dark humor. I won’t be changing my writing style. If the stories I create can’t hold your attention past the point of your critique, then the only thing I can suggest is to stop buying them. There are lots of authors out there for you to choose from. I noticed when reading your reviews, many of your lesser liked choices could have been avoided simply by utilizing Amazon’s ‘Look Inside’ feature. A discerning reader like yourself could easily always pick a novel pleasing to your taste by using the generous ‘Look Inside’ feature.”

Ms. Poofy’s features betrayed a vindictive trait as she pinched the returned novel in white knuckled hands, possibly imagining Nick’s neck within her grasp rather than his novel. “So now this is about me and my review? Really?”

“Only if you make it about you. My daughter Jean is nine. When she wishes to read a children’s novel off of Amazon, I have her read the ‘Look Inside’ feature before I buy it. Have you ever picked a bad novel, Jean?”

Jean grinned directly at Ms. Poofy. “Not yet, Dad.”

Red faced, Ms. Poofy began another retort but turned on her heel and left instead.

“That was fun, Dad,” Jean whispered. “I hope we get some more like that.”

“You would, troublemaker.”

Two hours went by very fast with fans of Nick’s assassin novels stopping, chatting, and generally having a good time during the signing without incident. The outgoing Jean handled the questions directed at her with the usual sarcastic flair she had been developing, but with enough humor her answers drew laughs instead of frowns. John noticed the next potential problem.

“Incoming. Number eight in the line. What do you guys think?”

A puffy faced, thirty something man with glasses, and his long brown hair tied in a ponytail at the back of his head, stared with mouth drawn together in a thin line directly at Nick. His height Nick guessed at a couple inches over five feet tall.

“I don’t think he’s a grammar Nazi, Uncle John,” Jean whispered.

“Agreed,” Gus added. “He doesn’t have a book in hand. My guess is a BK with a need to have a moment of notoriety.”

Nick finished signing a lady’s copy of Dark Interlude, shaking her hand as she left. He glanced at the man John was talking about. “He’s pissed about something and mad enough to come here to air me out. It should be interesting.”

“I hope he’s funny,” Jean said.

It didn’t take long for Nick to work his way through the people in front of their suspect. Nick smiled politely as the man approached their table. “Hi. Thanks for coming.”

The man simply launched into a vitriol laced accusation. “Your violent pulp with unrealistic characters and plot are nothing but ultra-conservative trash. How dare you preach with your neo-con, far right views in a work of fiction? A book of fiction is no place to spout off about your views on anything!”

Nick’s face turned from welcoming blandness into utter joy. “Roachbeaverboy! It’s you. You’ve come to see me. I’m glad you came even if it was only to repeat what you did in your book killing. I had no idea you lived close to where I do. You’re just as I imagined you. What can I do for you today, Roachy? Would you like an autograph?”

As with Ms. Poofy, Roachbeaverboy was surprised to hear Nick use his avatar. He soon got over his initial surprise. “No, I don’t want your stupid autograph or anything else from you! Your novel crap should be banned!”

“You must have visited for some reason. How may I assist you? We both know I’m not going to quit writing the way I want. A novel is exactly where an author should express their views, Roachy.”

The line of people chuckled with each new retort by Nick, causing Roachy to look around at everyone with an angry glare. He turned his attention toward Nick once again with finger pointing suddenness, aiming his digit at the copies of Dark Interlude on the table. “This Dark Interlude is meaningless tripe!”

“Now, Roachy… it’s not nice to bad mouth books you haven’t even read,” Nick reasoned while noting the line of people were getting into the confrontation, edging closer to the table.

“I read the propaganda so I could blast it to other reasoning people.”

“Really? Then tell me who Diego’s love interest is in Dark Interlude,” Nick replied. When Roachy went into a deer in the headlights brain freeze, Nick continued. “Come now, Roachy. She’s an important character throughout the novel. I’ll give you a hint. Her name begins with an F.”

Roachy hemmed and hawed for a moment before spitting out, “Felicity.”

Nick made a buzzer sound for a wrong answer as the line of people laughed. “Thanks for playing Roachy. Take care of yourself. Nice seeing you.”

“I…I… that means nothing! I’m not done with you yet!” The crowd booed and the two burly security guards who had moved nearer due to the volume of interaction bracketed Roachy.

“Please walk away with us, Sir. There are others waiting in line,” one of the security guards with Raznik on his nametag urged gently.

“Don’t touch me!”

“We didn’t, but now we will,” the other guard with Robinson on his nametag said.

Roachy was escorted out to the applause of the crowd, shouting epithets as the security guards propelled him to the exit.

“Way cool!” Jean stood to watch Roachbeaverboy’s guided trek out of the store.

“Okay, folks,” Nick announced with a big smile, “I’m sure the Roachbeaverboy’s visit was very entertaining but maybe we could tone down our interactions for the remainder of the signing. I’ll be glad to discuss any criticisms but I would appreciate it if any remaining critics in line have at least read the book first. Thank you.”