"Belongs on Bestseller List" (Baggage Review)

Another review emailed to me:

"I have read 2 of Baeli's other books--Armchair Detective and Also Known as DNA, both of them in the lesbian fiction genre, so I decided i should also check out her mainstream novels--Achilles Forjan and Baggage. I started with Baggage. I have to say, Baeli is every bit as good in the mainstream genre; she's just a solid, quality writer who never disappoints, no matter what genre she chooses to write in. In this case, the book Baggage was an engaging, heartfelt and enjoyable story--it's a little bit family-saga, a little bit romance, a little bit suspense. But it grabbed me and wouldn't let go. Her characters, as usual, are real enough to imagine living next door to you, or as members of your social circle, or even as your family. I like the way Baeli gives them challenges and allows us to watch as they struggle to handle them. I really cared about these people and she was masterful at making them come alive in my mind. And she always provides a satisfying ending. I came away wishing for a sequel to this one too. Baggage belongs right up there on the bestseller list, as far as I'm concerned. It's that good."
~Connie R. Ramsey
Hobbs, TX

"Belongs on Bestseller List" (Baggage Review)

Done. Really. I mean it.

After I got those proofs for Supernatural Hypocrisy (6 volumes) mentioned in a previous entry, I (naturally) found many things that needed correcting. And more information that needed to be added. It has been feeling like I'll never be done. But in between the high stress of a certain personal situation, i finally got them done, edited, and sent again. Then after i sent in the final material, decided i still hated the covers, so redesigned them AGAIN. This time, i like them, and that's the final version. Really. 

These volumes were supposed to be available for holiday sales, but the aforementioned stress successfully put an end to that. I've never missed a deadline before. So will be glad when the situation rights itself in March. (Unless some other unforeseen re-emergence of the bad situation arises). Keep your fingers crossed, and send me good wishes, if only in your own mind. With my new position as Managing Editor for LightSwitcher Books, LLC, i will need things to go more smoothly.

Here's a little mission statement about LSB:

Bold. Illuminating. Evolved.

That's the mission statement, in a nutshell, for LightSwitcher Books. We want to revive the old masters so the world can enjoy them again; we want to put in print, for the first time, stories from the older generation, who have seen what we could never see, have lived through challenges we may never face, thanks to their existence; we want to publish promising new authors who have something compelling, informative, or entertaining to share-sparing them the inevitable years of competing with the authors who set their sights on the major publishing houses. We are not shackled by the politics of the publishing industry at LightSwitcher Books. If we believe the world should see it, we will print it.

Here's to being bold and illuminating and evolved.

Enjoy.

Done. Really. I mean it.

Supernatural Completion

I finally ordered the proofs for my 6 volume book, Supernatural Hypocrisy: The Cognitive Dissonance of a God Cosmology. It will be available for the Holiday Shopping season.
Volume 1: Cosmology of God & Jesus
Volume 2: Cosmology of Christianity
Volume 3: Cosmology of the Bible
Volume 4: Cosmology of the Dark Side
Volume 5: Cosmology of Science
Volume 6: Cosmology of Atheism

Three years in the making, this is not a project I would like to do very often. It was mentally, emotionally and physically draining. The amount of research, double-checking, rewriting, formatting and other such mundane details were often mind-numbing. Then there was the constant decision-making about what information goes where--the subject of each volume often overlaps the subject of another, and I was constantly trying to keep track of where it all should go. It was, literally, like working on six books at a time. I crashed my Firefox browser and Word frequently.

But I believe this work is unique, in that it is in 6 volumes; I didn't have to hyperfocus on one area of the subject matter, and condense it down so much. I could cover the territory i wanted to cover--share my journey--without leaving out any crucial bits that ultimately led me to my personal cosmology. I addressed each one I felt was primary in the search for understanding. So the book is fairly comprehensive in that way, though i learned quickly that there could have been another 6 volumes.

Just a couple stats:

• In all 6 volumes combined, there are 1,322 pages and I used 477 sources.
• I referenced Wikipedia only once, because it was the only place to get a biographical tidbit on a certain person. Otherwise, i used only reputable sources--science, news magazines, journals, newspapers, books-- including many translations of the Bible, and translations of the Septuagint, Pseudepigrapha and other apocryphal texts.

I drew from a wide array of source-types and areas of study. The information and examination I used considered many different disciplines. Some of those include:

• anthropobiology --  study of human biology
• anthropology -- study of human cultures
• archaeology -- study of human material remains
• astronomy -- study of celestial bodies
• bioecology -- study of interaction of life in the environment
• biology --  study of life
• bionomics  -- study of organisms interacting in their environments
• Egyptology -- study of ancient Egypt
• epistemology -- study of grounds of knowledge
• genesiology  -- study of reproduction and heredity
• genetics -- branch of biology that studies heredity and variation in organisms
• geochronology -- study of measuring geological time
• geogeny --  science of the formation of the earth's crust
• geogony -- study of formation of the earth
• geography -- study of surface of the earth and its inhabitants
• geology -- study of earth's crust
• geomorphogeny -- study of the origins of land forms
• glossology  --  study of language; study of the tongue
• historiology --  study of history
• ichnology  -- science of fossilized footprints
• iconography -- study of drawing symbols
• iconology -- study of icons; symbols
• ideogeny --  study of origins of ideas
• ideology -- science of ideas; system of ideas used to justify behavior
• idiomology -- study of idiom, jargon or dialect
• lexicology --  study of words and their meanings
• liturgiology  -- study of liturgical forms and church rituals
• metaphysics --  study of principles of nature and thought
• microbiology -- study of microscopic organisms
• micropalaeontology --  study of microscopic fossils
• mythology --  study of myths; fables; tales
• neuropsychology -- study of relation between brain and behavior
• noology -- science of the intellect
• palaeoanthropology -- study of early humans
• palaeobiology -- study of fossil plants and animals
• palaeontology -- study of fossils
• patrology -- study of early Christianity
• philology -- study of ancient texts; historical linguistics
• philosophy -- science of knowledge or wisdom
• physics --  study of matter and its motion through spacetime
• pisteology -- science or study of faith
• psychology --  study of mind
• psychopathology -- study of mental illness
• satanology --  study of the devil
• sedimentology  -- study of sediment
• semantics -- study of meaning
• sociobiology -- study of biological basis of human behaviour
• sociology -- study of society
• stratigraphy -- study of geological layers or strata
• theology --  study of religion; religious doctrine
• thermodynamics -- study of relation of heat to motion
• zooarchaeology --  study of animal remains of archaeological sites
• zoogeography -- study of geographic distribution of animals
• zoogeology  -- study of fossil animal remains
• zoology -- study of animals

If understanding belief, religion, God, and truth creates a list like that, then over-simplification of science by Believers,  is a little  infuriating.

This has been a taxing journey for me, but one which had to be taken. I have grown so much in my knowledge and understanding, and I have absolutely no doubt where i stand on the issue of religion. For myself, or for the world. My hope is that readers will find this work compelling, entertaining, informative and helpful in their own discernment of what they do and do not believe.

Supernatural Completion

The DNA of DNA

After completing a novel, I always arrive in this abstract place where I can't focus on anything right away. Some might construe this to be a type of recovery, a vacation from thinking; but in my case that wouldn't be accurate. I am unfamiliar with the experience of not thinking. And Recovery implies that something has been negatively altered in you. Writing always alters me in a positive way. 

What happens for me, is more like this: I have created something wonderful that took a long time, was sometimes difficult and even painful, but which has produced something beautiful. It's very much like childbirth. But then, there is the afterbirth (pardon the image). But there is a big mess to clean up. Things need to be wiped down, put back where they go and the room tidied up again. Except all this takes place in my head.

So I ruminate about that book, and several others, think about how it felt, wonder what might be the next thing I do from scratch, consider the possibilities of marketing, that I might want to read someone else's book now, and generally organize the scattered thoughts in my head into a functioning unit again. Once that happens, I can begin anew, to create something else.


~ DNA ~

At the heart of any novel, is the stuff of life. The details are what gives it its uniqueness. Often, the hardest parts about writing a full-length novel are those maddening details.

In my most recently completed book, Also Known As DNA, there was another level, in that it was a sequel. These were characters who already existed in my fictional world. I had to take them through another series of challenges, but also keep track of the facts that existed in the first book, to make sure it remained consistent in the second one. When you write a sequel, there is an amazing amount of detail that has to be recalled or accessed. You have to juggle those details together, and yet be able to separate them and not confuse them with each other.

There is also the usual attention to detail in the plot and character developments that are unfolding in the book you're writing.
Examples:

• That destroyed or lost cell phone in one chapter, cannot magically appear five chapters later.
• The camera someone has cannot have magically been transported into the hands of another character.They have to have made the exchange at some point. 
• That character who had three guns--they have to be accounted for later, when guns are being used.
• That character could not have been at Point A, when she was just at Point B a few minutes ago.

There are other myriad considerations as well. One of them has to do with the psychology of characters. For instance, the villains. There's a hair-thin line between creating sympathy for a character and creating understanding, while still loathing them. I was worried about that one. I wanted to show a theme throughout the story--how everyone can have bad parents and some people will deal with it well, and some people will become psychos, and this result depends on what's organically/ psychologically in place in that person, to begin with.

I don't want to excuse the bad behavior--but I do still explain how, if they were already unstable--experiences can be responded to understandably, but still in a messed up way --(in Character A) or the experiences distorted until the lie becomes the truth in their minds (in character B). 

Kahlil Gibran said, “Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.” My friend Emily C Jones said, "the rest of the quote is And the remaining 98% of sufferers are either dead or traumatized - hard to tell which is which from the massive amounts of scarring.  

[laughing] Fair enough.

~ HOW I BEGIN ~

When writing a new book, I will often start with whatever scene inspired me to write it in the first place. Then I will begin to write dialogue between the characters until I get a feel for them (or in the case of this sequel, until the reader gets a feel for them, since I already understand who they are. New characters, excepted). The story becomes largely a running dialogue, with very little description, unless it's some scene that comes to me later. I believe wholeheartedly in the ability of characters to tell you their story. I am often as surprised as a reader would be when a character says something. But what they choose to say, often guides the plot.

I will also use bits and pieces of notes I've taken about people and places, and filed away. One of these scenes I used in this book. I shared it with another writer-friend at the time i wrote that odd scene, and she said,"Who is that guy and why is he chasing her?"
"I don't know," I said.
"Well, what's the point of her climbing through that window?"
"I'm not sure," I answered.
"Then how do you know what you're writing about?"
"I don't."
That's the point. I knew that scene would be useful at some point in one of my books. 

I write organically, and I want to experience the story as it unfolds, so that I can enjoy it just as a reader would. That way, I have a clear idea of how it might affect the reader, by knowing how it is affecting me. And this method also insures that I will never tire of the process, or get bored with the story because I don't really know what's going to happen, or where it's all going to end. This doesn't mean i don't clean it up and make everything work in concert later, but I just save that for one of the editing passes.

On this book, I initially jumped ahead to a halfway point and wrote a few chapters and then ahead again, to the end. I actually got to the end of the book. I usually don't like that, because, as I said, I don't want to know what happens that quickly (though, having finished the book, the ending took place elsewhere and was slightly different, so it was still quite satisfying, even though i had an idea of what would happen. For this story, it was more about the journey than the end).

Writing to the end gave me only around 100 pages, and naturally that's not enough to make it a book--and it's tempting to say "maybe this is just a long story...or at best, a novella." But I know from experience that it only indicates I have not fleshed it out enough, haven't done the hard work. The story will fill out after I find all the right components to make that happen. I research and I use details about places and people that are largely authentic, as much as possible. In those researched details, more ideas usually emerge. For instance, I found a location, that quite by accident, had the same name as a meaningful word in the previous book. What I call a Happy Accident. And I used it, allowing the character to notice that synchronicity. I wrote about using Google maps when I write my books. There's a reason for that. I can get all the details I need for moving my characters around, and in the process, I gain grist for the creative mill. I trust that process because I've done it so many times.

So--the initial problem, after that first 100 pages, was that the first-person point of view was limiting the story. Somehow it worked for the first book, but this one seemed different. I still did not want to lose that POV, though, because it was such a integral part of the first book--that voice. That main character. So I used first-person with that main character, and when I needed to show the other characters without her in the scene, I would tell their story in third person omniscient, always cuing the reader by using a different chapter each time I did that. That opened the story up immensely, and solved the problem.

Then, I had to start looking for several things:

• were there enough characters to fill out the story? Did I need to add a few new ones? Yes. And I did.
• where are the gaps of time? When that character spoke of the two weeks that had gone by, I had to ask, what did she do during that time?
• How did the new characters interact with the main character, and what's their backstory?
• Can there be an unexpected alliance between two characters? What's that dynamic like?
• are there any Happy Accidents in the text just straining to be explored?

This is, of course, not the complete picture of what goes on in the process, but it is a portion of it.

~ AFTERGLOW ~
So, after I have completed a book, I am beset with a sensation of afterglow. I feel I have just had sex. Good sex. So far, I've copulated 15 times.

The DNA of DNA

"Which one is your favorite?"

 

Whenever i come across someone new who finds out I'm an author, and they decide they want to read one of my novels, I ask them which one.  They inevitably respond with, "Well, which one is your favorite?"

This is a question that has no answer. My books are sort of like children--except for the fact that they don't get in trouble or embarrass me in Wal-Mart--but they are special and loved in their own way. I created them, I went through a process of "raising" them; struggle, joy, challenge, frustration, laughter....So if you ask me which is my favorite, I can't choose. I love them all equally for different reasons.

This situation also might have something to do with the fact that I don't write formula fiction, or one genre of fiction (Unless you count that there is always some mystery or unanswered question afoot in the story--but most stories have that or they wouldn't hold our interest). Genre specific writers like Koontz and King might not have this issue, because they generally stay within the parameters of one type of story (i.e., Horror, thriller, suspense). But i write in 14 genres. (Not that I have 14 different novels in 14 different genres, but this is to say that I write in many forms when I write). So I would have no idea what a person might like unless I know them well. And even then, it's a crap shoot. A potential reader, asking me this question would have to tell me what other authors they read, or what other genres or themes they enjoy most. Then, I can suggest one of mine.

They want mainstream, contemporary fiction with medical and/or legal content, with perhaps a killer on the loose? I would suggest Achilles Forjan. 

Mainstream contemporary fiction about families and relationships and secrets and struggle? Baggage.

A lesbian love story mixed in with a mystery and a female sleuth? Armchair Detective.

A quirky, humorous Southern Gothic kind of story with lesbians? Plethora.

A lesbian romance with a suspenseful edge? As You Were.

A highly erotic lesbian story of discovery and trust, that also has a plot and characters you can care about? Random Act of Blindness.

Yes, I have more stories about lesbians than I do about anything else, because, as they say, you write about what you know (though I often break that rule, because I want to learn something and so I learn it in order to write about it). But I also know that people are people and even straight people will find themselves or someone they know in those stories. If they don't, maybe they should get out more. And I do have a few other mainstream books on the way. So before long, there should be something for everyone. 

Just don't ask me which one is my favorite.

"Which one is your favorite?"

Jae, Singular, in Need of Plural

Being a full time writer has its advantages. 

I can work in my pajamas. 

I can eat when I want, go for a walk when I want, sleep when I want. 

But don't be fooled by this alleged freedom. There's always a trade-off in life. For me, the concessions are:

*a social life that flounders and dies if I don't keep after it, 

*a sometimes overwhelming loneliness, 

*a constant struggle to have enough money to do the things i really want to do, 

*a pervasive sense of unease when i put my work out there, but often don't know how it's being received. I am therefore grateful for the feedback I do get from my loyal readers. It's like manna.
*and I've found that potential romantic interests are intimidated by the fact that I've written 14 books, and decide they don't want to be involved with a writer, because of the stigma that writers are somehow depressed or insane.

Early on in this writing career of mine, when I was dealing with only one or two books, it was a snap. But now that I have written 14 books, I feel I am not only performing the job of 5 people, but taking on their workloads as well.  I have fallen behind on some things.

For instance, I finally have 10 of my books on Amazon, but four more that need a final proof and approval from me to join them--Strictly Academic, Crossing Paths,  Wear a Helmet, and The Unbearable Lightness of Being UNBEARABLE...

Then I've got to give some attention to marketing and posting articles on different sites to drum up traffic to my own sites. And there's the 5 or 6 or 7 other books I am working on, in various degrees of completion and attention.

Also Known As DNA, the sequel to Armchair Detective, is coming along nicely, now that I solved the POV issue and used both first-person and third-person to tell the story. I have about 274 pages on that one. Then I have to do an unknown number of line edits and other specific edits i do which requires me to go from start to finish each time. How many other people read the same book 50 times?

SIDEBAR: (okay MIDDLEBAR):: I think there's a major misconception about writers, in that the reading public imagines them typing and typing and then finally reaching the end, doing some revision and rewriting, and viola! They have written a book. I can't speak for other authors, but that's about as likely for me as drowning in the Caspian Sea while being sodomized by dolphins. (I apologize right now to all dolphins. I truly believe you are loving creatures who would never violate me in such a way, unless i asked.) My process involves quite a lot of reading the book front to back, because otherwise, you lose the flow and miss important things. More on my process later in another blog. But just suffice to say, writing a book is laborious and requires great dedication,if it's to be done correctly.

So, AKA-DNA will also need beefing up and several more passes of my attention, before sending the manuscript for printing the proof copy, which i will edit, and so will my Primary Proofer, Tanya Penny Gotcher. Then the revisions and corrections will be sent in again, and in another week or two, go live on Amazon.  I'm glad I'm sitting down--just talking about that makes me tired.

And then I have to decide which book is next. Maybe Somewhere Else...or Is It Just Me? (collaborative with Tanya)...or Another Justice....or Falling Through the Cracks...or Quintessence....or maybe FINALLY deciding how I'm going to handle my magnum opus, Supernatural Hypocrisy. That 600 page behemoth has to be tamed somehow.

I genuinely wish I could clone myself. I'd get SO MUCH done. And what could be better than the enjoyment of writing 5 or 6 books at once? I mean, using clones. I'm already writing 5 or 6 books at once, just little old singular me. Just Jae, singular, in need of Plural. And to make matters worse, I'm considering (again) starting a small press of my own. I have been doing all that anyway.

Jae, Singular, in Need of Plural

New Review of my book RAOB

Review of Random Act of Blindness on weRead:

"I didn't want to put this book down, the characters had me hooked from the start, the erotica so real, I wanted to be there. Its not often I find a book that has me enthralled from beginning to end, Random Act of Blindness is one of the few. I am so looking forward to my next novel by Kelli Jae Baeli." 
~ Joanne Cincotta, Australia



Excerpts:
EXCERPTS:

Never, in all her days, had she imagined herself in a position like this. Vivid fantasies aside, Rachel had never considered acting on the impulses that invaded her thoughts throughout the day. They were private affairs stored only in some scurrilous recess of her mind. Yet her mind interacted with other minds, and often, there were fragments of information to be had in decidedly ironic ways. Doctor Bass, for instance, listened to her confession of the scandalous gearshift penetration mirage, and fantasy bondage scenarios and produced a copy of the bondage magazine. While not something Professor Rachel Leeds believed would qualify as a "literary device," it was nonetheless pivotal in the events in which she was now participating. Namely, being on her way to a hardware store to find something to use as a whip on the girl who lay naked and bound in hotel room number 66, the Mark-of-the-Almost-Beast.

Faith. To believe in things not yet seen, they say. Patrice was faithful a long time ago. Then she communed with the faithless, and their cloying demands. She needed evidence because it made her feel foolish. And faith was lost. But the bitterness left her cold, barefoot, detached from the warmth of love and connection. Then she discovered a different faith. One born of her own power, left untapped for eons, swirling, ebullient, joyful. And now, coming full circle, she found herself wholly unqualified, still, to manifest from faith alone. Yet, perfectly accustomed to crying alone, wishing alone. Hope did not float. It sat on the bottom, weighted by its own lie.

New Review of my book RAOB

Review of Achilles Forjan on Amazon

 

Fantastic review of one of my books on Amazon. 
Thank you Tanya Gotcher!!
click to see review
  

or if you want to stay on this page, read it here, at the bottom.


Author's note from Achilles Forjan:

This is my first attempt at a mainstream novel, and although I thought the challenge would lie in writing about only straight characters, I discovered that whether characters are straight or gay, they essentially live the same lives, face the same challenges, and have the same fears, joys and affections. The challenge was one of juggling details in what became a multi-genre work. This book taught me how to be a better writer.

Back Cover blurb:

A psychological exercise in suspense and mystery that captivates the reader with dynamic characters and sleight-of-hand clues covering a gamut of genres." ~Justice Harlow
Author of The Recipe, & Shall We Consummate?

Burlington, Vermont was a city known for its near-nonexistent murder rate. So when bodies begin to appear along with a mysterious note and a humiliating gesture from the killer, local authorities scramble to discover who is responsible.

A complicated series of events points to Amy Jane Spenser as the prime suspect. She is troubled by sleep deprivation and frequent memory lapses. Her job as a paramedic feeds her compulsion to help people, but ultimately only renders her a crippled witness to the human condition. Amy struggles with doubt over her own mysterious behavior, and is left with no alibi for any of the murders.

Her friend, Karma, uses her degree in Criminal Psychology and a gift for psychometry to search for clues to Amy's innocence, in spite of a persistent detective. The suspense builds as lives intertwine, and destinies dangle precariously over an abyss of secrets and suppositions, until nothing can ever be the same again.

Another great book by Kelli Jae Baeli!

This is the third of Ms. Baeli's books I've read and I plan to read more of them. She is an absolute MASTER of characterization! After I read her books, I catch myself wondering about the characters as if they were real people. And, no, this is not a sign I need to be in a mental ward somewhere; rather, it is a testament to how authentic her characters are. This authenticity extends to her plots as well. I can especially speak to the authenticity of the plot and characters in this particular book because I work in the emergency services field myself. This book in it's entirety, down to the smallest of details, is real enough to be based on people whom I know and work with daily.

One final big plus!... more often than not, I can guess "who done it" before the ending of a murder mystery and that just ruins the whole book for me. I also view it as a weakness in the writer's talent. However, not so in this gem of a psycho-thriller/murder mystery! I was totally and happily surprised! Reading this one was time well spent!

~Tanya Gotcher,
Little Rock, AR

Review of Achilles Forjan on Amazon

Excerpt from Armchair Detective

Excerpt from Armchair Detective, by yours truly
available on Amazon.

I had the prepaid cell phone on the seat beside me. Huxley had provided that so he could keep in touch with me, and in case I had some emergency and needed to call him. It was a source of embarrassment for me that I didn’t have something as fundamental as a cell phone, but Huxley seemed to understand, and displayed no judgment on it. Until now, I saw little reason to have one. Who would I call? I kept to myself and didn’t have any real friends here. 
     Next to the cell phone, lay the .45 caliber Ruger SP-101. The gun was not for shooting anyone, necessarily, but for self-defense, or leverage to get out of any sticky situation that might arise. I wasn’t afraid of guns; I was quite good at handling them and hitting targets. I used to have a bumper sticker that read, Guns don’t kill people, People kill people. I hoped that no people would kill other people tonight. 
     Yawning and stretching for the umpteenth time, I frowned down into the too-expensive cardboard cup with the well-known logo. The too-expensive coffee that had been in it was now cold. I grunted into the dark liquid, rolling down the window to catch some air. Though balmy, as if August wasn’t sure it wanted to be September, a cool breeze periodically felt like Freon on my skin; something I was not used to in the pre-air conditioning era of the Falcon. I sucked on my eCig, and watched the wind catch a wayward cheeseburger wrapper and propel it through the parking garage as I worked at the knot in my neck. 
     What was taking so long? Were we being stood-up? Stacey’s goons might be toying with us. So this could all be for nothing. Or something could already be going awry, and that hundred bucks would seem less and less equitable.
     I could see that surveillance work was tedious. Anyone who would sit in a parked car for hours and drink expensive coffee, waiting for something that might never happen, was not in it for the excitement. That wasn’t the reason I wanted to take up the investigative vocation; though inexperienced, I did understand there was little glamor to be had, here. Hopefully not just the coffee. But the events of my near-past segued naturally into the job. I needed a source of income, and couldn’t risk doing anything I’d done before. Presumably, I was on my way to something that might release me from the tethers of the past. Still, it was my first case, and I felt a little naked. 
     I checked the layout in my head against the one in front of me. Second level, row C. I could see row A, near the elevator, about 50 yards in front of me and to my left. So where the hell is— 
     Just then, Huxley’s black Mercury Sable pulled into Row A and parked. Somewhere in the parking deck, I heard an engine start, and faint music playing, and soon, a silver Toyota 4Runner was moving toward Huxley’s car. Ah, the delivery boy. The SUV backed into the space beside the Sable. Its driver probably wanted to be able to make a quick exit if things got dicey.
     I dropped my eCig in the seat, and slid down, peeking over the dash at the blond man who leaned over to open the passenger door. Huxley got out, carrying the bank bag of cash, and got in, closing the door. I heard the music get louder when the door was open, and knew the guy must have kept his radio on in case Huxley intended to record anything.
     Using my binoculars, I got a good look at him. He wiped at his upper lip, his attention scampering around the garage, and I ducked when his gaze came my direction.
     It was too dark for him to see me, as I’d been careful to stay away from the lights that were mounted at infrequent intervals on concrete pillars and crossbeams. And I had taken a moment to stand on the roof of the Falcon and unscrew the light above the crossbeam over me. Still, I didn’t want to take any chances on this case for the same reason I parked my butt and read reference manuals for hours on end. The pain was worth the gain. Maybe.
     While I waited, I had an idea. Truly inspired. I removed the overhead bulb inside the Falcon and then my hand darted for the handle. I bumped my coffee in its holder on the door. The brown liquid splashed onto the top of my left Doc Marten, and ran into my sock. “Shit,” I growled, kneeing the door open quietly, and stepping out. Pushing the door closed firmly, I headed for the 4Runner in a crouch, periodically shaking my sodden foot in an effort to drain the spill. The glow from the lamps moved over me, bright, then dim, as I traveled between the cars, my attention momentarily snagged by the `66 Galaxie, waiting in all its antiquity for my adoring eyes as I passed by. I toyed with the image of the car with a new paint-job and some bodywork. The general population didn’t appreciate the value of these sturdy old behemoths; probably because they’ve never realized the true potential of a large back seat.
     I ducked lower to travel the expanse of the concrete wall behind the Toyota 4Runner, until I reached a spot directly behind it. Careful to time it so that I couldn’t be seen in the rearview, I hurdled the concrete wall and crept over to the passenger side tire, taking out the tire gauge. Placing the pin on the valve stem, I liberating the tire of its air. I knew he wouldn’t hear it closed up in that SUV with the radio on.
     Then I hurried back down to the bottom of the ramp and crossed over, and up the other side, hiding behind a concrete pillar, watching, and waiting.
     Momentarily, Huxley got out, carrying a manila envelope, got in his Sable, and drove out of the garage.
The blond man began to pull away too, but paused as he felt the flat tire. He put the 4Runner in park and got out, looking at the tires on his side, and then headed for the other side. Finding the flat, he cursed loudly, and retrieved the keys to open the hatch. As he moved to the rear of the vehicle, I got out and shuffled toward the SUV, my head down below the cars. Thankfully, he had left the driver’s door open. When he opened the hatch and peered in, I dashed over, leaned inside the cab and snatched the green zippered bank bag. Pretty easy so far.
     And it would have been the perfect ruse. But I have always had a strange intolerance for certain colognes, and I could smell the pungent odor of his, in the cab of the Toyota. In the inexplicable way that luck has a way of turning, I sensed a tickle in my nose, and before I could think about it, I sneezed.
     The blond man’s head popped out from behind the hatch, and our eyes met, his darting to the bank bag I held, and back up to my, no doubt, stunned expression.
     I launched into full-throttle retreat, first heading for the Falcon, but the last thing I needed was for him to be able to identify the car I was driving, and besides, I wouldn’t have had time to get in and drive away before he caught me. He was tall with long legs. Instead, I headed for the lower ramp, but he had jumped the wall and was running parallel to me, attempting to cut me off at the pass.
     Turning to check his location, I didn’t see the car fender until I rammed my knee into it. Cursing, I jerked away at the popping sound, freezing for a nanosecond, then scanning to my right and behind me at the hole in the side of the Oldsmobile. “Holy shit!”
     Looking back at him running up the incline, I saw that he held a pistol in front of him, and was firing as he ran. Several more shots whizzed past me.
     Recognizing the need to put something between me and that flying lead, I vaulted to the hood of the Olds’ in true Rockfordesque style, and rolled over, falling off the other side, landing hard upon the pavement near the front tire, the smell of oil assaulting my nose. A searing pain shot through my side, and with great chagrin I felt the re-injury of my ribs; they had finally healed, and now I might be back in walking-wounded status. I raised myself painfully and squinted into the early morning darkness at the Falcon: my only hope for escape.
     His advancing foot steps told me I was a clay pigeon, not yet airborne, but loaded in the trap machine, with a stranger’s finger on the release mechanism. I took as much breath as I could into my lungs in order to force myself to stand—the adrenaline dulling the pain in my side. I came up off the pavement and sprinted across the lot, my shoulder blades pulling together in anticipation of the bullets that would soon riddle me like the Delta 88. I was pretty sure the guy was using the type of pistol usually found on any given gang member. No one would think anything about a random shooting in this neighborhood. Gang initiations were common. Poor girl. She didn’t have a chance.
     I tried not to look at the Falcon as I ran past it. Instead I headed up the opposite ramp, on the far side of the matching concrete wall.
     Crouching there for a moment, I surveyed the area. An exit ramp was nearby, but I knew I wouldn’t make it with condition of my knee and ribs. My eyes darted to the large trash receptacle by the wall, in front of a big buttress. Please, God. I limped over, pried the lid off, and found just enough room in the garbage sack to nestle myself inside, and pull the lid back over me.
     This is a mistake. This won’t work. He’ll know I’m in here. Fuck! What was I thinking? Trying to breathe through my mouth as quietly as possible, I waited, my heart pounding so hard, I was sure it was vibrating the trash can.
     His foot steps got louder for a few seconds, and then stopped. I could hear him breathing. Cursing. He was so close. After an almost unbearable silence, I was jostled by the impact of his foot on the side of the receptacle. Oh shit. I’m dead. He knows.

Excerpt from Armchair Detective