Authors: Lisa Lutz
I
t goes without saying that I think my editor, Marysue Rucci, and my agent, Stephanie Kip Rostan, are brilliant, fantastic—insert any glowing adjective. In fact, if you are shopping around a manuscript, you must mail each of them a copy right away.
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I think I’ll begin with the more professional thank yous. At S&S: Where to begin? I love you all. Should I ever get any pets, I shall name them Simon and Schuster. Carolyn Reidy, your support of the Spellman books is invaluable. Thank you so much. David Rosenthal, you rock. I wish I had a recording of that wonderful toast you gave over dinner that night. I’m sure you don’t remember it because you were drinking heavily. Thanks again for dinner, Marysue.
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Virginia “Ginny” Smith, as an editorial assistant you are spectacular, as an actress,
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Oscar-worthy. Also, at S&S, Leah Wasielewski, Aileen Boyle, Deb Darrock, Michael Selleck; my seriously overworked production editor, Jonathan Evans; and a very special thank you to my extremely hard-working and dedicated publicists—Kelly Welsh, Tracey Guest, Deirdre Mueller, and Nicole de Jackmo.
And now I must thank all the wonderful people at the Levine Greenberg Literary Agency (this is a full service agency—restaurant /theatre recommendations, articles of interest forwarded, along with impeccable career advice): Daniel Greenberg, Jim Levine, Elizabeth Fisher, Melissa Rowland, Monika Verma, Miek Coccia (his first name is pronounced just like “Mike”—don’t ask), Sasha Raskin, and Lindsay Edgecombe. It is always a pleasure working with you all and I love my visits to your office, since they typically involve cake.
Now the slightly less professional thank yous:
I’d like to give a shout out to the Rucci clan. Debbie and Joe Rucci, thanks so much for showing up at my event. My actors—Ted and Josh—you guys were great. Ted, I’m hoping to book you for next year. Dave Rucci, sorry you couldn’t make it. Joe Rucci, thanks for coming up with the titles for the Spellman sequels. If I’m being honest, I’m pretty sure that I should credit Marysue, but if she’s willing to share the recognition, that’s between the two of you.
This is where I
really
think you (being someone not personally acquainted with me) should stop reading:
William Lorton, thank you for hiding the gun. I promise I’ll take it off your hands one of these days. Thanks Dan Fienberg, my cousin and financial advisor. (We had this deal that I’d mention him in the acks if he
read
my first book before I finished
writing
this one.) I actually won the race, but it was close and I’m nothing if not generous. Plus, he really is an excellent financial advisor.
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I must also thank Jay Fienberg, my cousin/Web site codesigner and, most importantly, my vandalism consultant. I knew I could count on you.
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Anastasia Fuller, thanks for always reading the first draft of everything, designing my Web site (with Jay), and taking care of some of my travel arrangements and helping me pack for my trip to New York. (Although I will never ask you to help me pack again because you were way too efficient. There was that embarrassing moment when I realized I couldn’t repack my luggage and had to have Nicole—aforementioned publicist—mail things back to me). Thanks Nicole.
Thanks to Ashleigh Mitchell and Jill Ableson for keeping me together or putting me back together. I can’t tell the difference sometimes.
The following acknowledgements are purely book-tour related.
My mom, Sharlene Lauretz, thanks for letting me crash or at least leave all my stuff at your house, lending me money (not because I ran out, but because there was no time for the bank), and not complaining as I made a giant pest of myself.
I think it’s important now to thank all the people who let me do laundry at their home. Thanks Aunt Bev and Uncle Mark, Julie Ulmer and Steve Alves (I should thank you for a lot more than laundry, but you know), and Lori Fienberg. While I’m on the subject of laundry, I’d like to mention to the hotels out there that, when one is on a book tour (and I’m sure other business travel applies as well), laundry becomes a big deal and I shouldn’t have to pay close to $100 to have half a load of laundry done. And I should
never
have my socks returned to me on a hanger. That’s ridiculous. I totally get jacking up the price on the minibar. If you want to charge me six bucks for M&M’s, fine. But clean clothes shouldn’t be considered a luxury. I really think this part of the hotel business needs to be rethought.
And now for the miscellaneous thank yous:
Morgan Dox and Steve Kim, thanks for all sorts of things. I don’t know where to begin or end. Rae, I’m going to need to borrow your name for just a few more years. Then you can have it back. Peter Kim and Carol Young, thanks for driving me around for three hours or so hunting for my motel. I would like to note that it was precisely where I said it was and you refused to believe me. But under the circumstances, I don’t blame you. I also appreciate all your travel-related advice. And congratulations! Kate Golden, thanks for always being on the ready to proof things and help me unpack. David and Cyndi Klane, thanks again for all your support—as performers, proofreaders, and, most importantly, friends. My Aunt Eve and Uncle Jeff Golden, thank you again for all sorts of things, but Uncle Jeff, please don’t buy me rugula ever again. You’re like a drug dealer, just with pastries.
Once again, I’d like to thank all the folks from Desvernine Associates
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for showing up at as many events as possible and being incredibly supportive: Graham “Des” Desvernine, Pamela Desvernine, Pierre Merkl, Debra Crofoot Meisner, and Yvonne Prentiss. I have a qualified thank you for Gretchen—you read drafts, you help me perform—but
every
time I’ve hung out with you on the book tour, I’ve had a nasty hangover and then had to fly across the country the next day. I’m not blaming you, I’m just saying…
And I’d like to thank Google Translate for allowing me to communicate in French:
Pour Charlie: Pue importe où je suis ni où vous êtes, je pense que vous êtes toujours moutarde.
Lastly: When people ask me if my characters are modeled after anyone I know, I usually say “no” and that’s the truth. However, Mort Schilling shares many traits with my grandpa Milton Golden. Grandpa Milt wasn’t a defense attorney, but a paint company executive. No matter what, the temperature of his coffee was wrong and he had no problems asking for assistance. I think he would have liked this book…if I removed all the swear words.
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Depends on whether you count #2 and #3—I don’t.
2
“Old” refers to the age of the friend, not the length of our friendship.
3
“Disappearance” means “vacation” in the Spellman household. I will explain the origin of this later.
4
Temporary restraining order.
5
Morty likes to Yiddishify my name.
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Notice the case number. The only other case Morty had this year was his nephew’s traffic violation.
2
Morty and I have a standing lunch date every week. I will explain how we met and the nature of our relationship in due time.
1
In case you’re wondering, I know when to give up the shtick.
2
Inspector Henry Stone. I’ll explain all about him later.
3
In this instance, the word “vacation” is being used in its traditional sense.
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Generally I’m opposed to the use of finger quotes. There are rare exceptions.
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Who happened to be my partner in crime during most of my delinquent years.
2
I’ll get to him in five pages or so.
1
Will explain the chronic tape-recording later.
1
Will briefly explain Rae’s negotiation habit shortly.
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Bureaucracy, she claims, is the natural precursor to a fascist state.
2
Rae would later express bafflement over this request.
1
Aunt Grace was on my father’s side. The Spellmans are notorious micromanagers; even bequests must be used according to the deceased person’s bidding.
2
Word used in its traditional sense.
3
Her revisionist definition.
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mensch
or
mensh (ménsh)
n: pl.
mensch•es or mensch•en (mén'sh∂n)
Informal
A person having admirable characteristics, such as fortitude and firmness of purpose.
1
Yes, a stage name.
2
In San Francisco this is an unbelievable deal.
3
I said it before I realized how it sounded.
4
Huh?
5
The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance.
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Ex-boyfriend #9—Daniel Castillo, DDS.
1
Only two flights, but need I remind you again how exhausted I was?
1
Can’t wear Mom’s clothes; she’s a size 2.
2
There is absolutely
no
logical reason why this exit should be used exclusively in case of fire.
3
Score! The only thing on the Spellman menu that morning was lower-Dad’s-cholesterol oatmeal.
4
Based on one anecdotal piece of evidence. See previous document—
The Spellman Files
(now available in paperback!)—for a full explanation.
5
The temperature in San Francisco in winter rarely dips below freezing. While I’m on the subject of San Francisco weather, anyone with the urge to quote Mark Twain should think twice (see appendix).
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To her friends; I was not her friend, so I always called her Mrs. Chandler.
2
While it is true that Petra’s and my academic interests were limited at best, we always perked up in history class when Mr. Jackson went on tangents regarding the many crimes of our founding fathers.
3
Ironically, Petra and I performed actual library research to determine our alterations to Mrs. Chandler’s lawn. In fact, we probably learned more history from our attempts at sabotage than we ever did in school.
4
And, some might argue, historically accurate.
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And we drank every last one of them.
6
There was also the drug-reference subtext.
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Years later, my father would say that this one was his favorite because of its “sheer simplicity.”
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Petra’s boyfriend at the time.
1
A bit late for a mid-life crisis to begin, but he makes up for it, as you will see.
2
No matter how many times I asked, Dad always failed to come up with a plausible explanation for how this happened.
3
Note: this was not a comedy.
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His guilt would come in handy for years to come,
I thought to myself.
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Just a figure of speech. I never arrive at anything sharp. It was around 3:15
P.M
.