Over-the-Top

Since Eddie’s Boy began (actually, also in the two days since she started reading), so many things have happened to the hero/hitman. After he was targeted in York (York! City of cathedrals!), Michael Schaeffer (yes, MC does have a name) headed to Manchester Airport (which was smart, because Gatwick and Heathrow have security cams all over the place) and flew to SYDNEY.

SYDNEY, as in Sydney, Australia.

Before you can say two sneezes, he’s attacked twice, the first time on the airport express to downtown Sydney (Scary/good scene! It goes down in exactly 13 minutes).

So, having determined that Sydney was a VERY BAD IDEA (LOL), he takes another flight, this time to the U.S.

It’s a good thing this was written before pandemic, or Michael would have no recourse except — maybe an island in the middle of the Pacific?

Wait, why didn’t he go to an island in the middle of the Pacific? Surely, it would be hard for hitmen to escape detection there — fewer people, etc etc

As a matter of fact, self has already written this story: in her story, the island isn’t deserted because it’s an island in the Philippines, which is over-populated. Her story’s called “Sand,” and it’s coming out later this year in Pembroke Magazine.

Stay safe, dear blog readers. Stay safe.

pp. 53 – 58, EDDIE’S BOY

It takes only five pages for Thomas Perry to describe what goes down on an airport express train to downtown Sydney.

From the top of p. 53 to the bottom of p. 58: non-stop action and HELL YEAH!

Setting in EDDIE’S BOY

Eddie’s Boy opens in Bath! That’s Jane Austen country! Of all the bloody cheek.

It seems Eddie the hitman’s settled down with a member of the British royalty! Whose family has owned a house on the Royal Crescent for hundreds of years. Every May, the couple abandon Bath (because that’s when all the American students pour into town — oh, the horror!) for the more sedate charms of a country manor outside York.

Lord, what a ride this is going to be!

Self loves Bath. She was there once, in 2017. The Royal Crescent is, rightly, a World Heritage sight. Self is mighty entertained at the notion that one of those fabulous Georgian townhouses is the abode of an American hitman and his lordly wife.

Stay safe, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Eddie’s Boy, Opening Paragraph

Self has made her selection of her next book (High as the Waters Rise is sooooo sad, now she has to write sad fiction to work it out of her system), and it’s neither This Is All I Got or Ice Walker. (Sorreeee!!!)

Sorry for being so indecisive. It seems that what self is in the mood for reading is — not about homelessness, or about the environment — a really good, fast-paced crime novel!

Thomas Perry’s Eddie’s Boy fits the bill. She hasn’t read Butcher’s Boy, but she understands from the reviews that you don’t need to have read the earlier novel to appreciate this one.

  • Michael Schaeffer had not killed anyone in years, and he was enraged at the fact that he’d had to do it again tonight. He drove the big black sedan along the deserted, winding British lane toward the south under the lightless sky, keeping his speed near the limit of his ability to control the car. Strapped upright with the seat belt in the passenger seat beside him was a man with a small, neat bullet hole through the side of his head.

This is, oh my God, so GREAT.

Stay safe, dear blog readers. Stay safe.

Jury Selection, O. J. Simpson Trial

The Run of His Life: The People vs O. J. Simpson, p. 188

In ordinary circumstances, government lawyers do little to prepare for jury selection in a criminal trial. Prosecutors’ offices almost never have the funds to hire jury consultants …

Simpson’s lead defense lawyer, on the other hand, hired the best jury consultant in Los Angeles.

Here’s what self is wondering: how could a second-tier celebrity like O. J. Simpson afford a team of lawyers as high-powered as these? Shapiro worked with a team of hand-picked lawyers. He also drew up a list of expert witnesses that included the jury specialist, the psychologist etc etc

Self sincerely hopes Toobin includes a section on how much the lawyers were paid. They got Simpson his freedom, self wonders what the price tag was? What exactly is the price tag of a great defensive team?

Self would love to read a book about the Harvey Weinstein trial. Because Weinstein presumably went with the very best lawyers, too. But the outcome for him was so very different from Simpson’s.

Stay tuned.

Sentence of the Day: THE RUN OF HIS LIFE

p. 155:

That night I took the red-eye home to New York (The in-flight movie was Naked Gun 33 1/3, starring, among others, O. J. Simpson)

There is a rich vein of irony running through The Run of His Life: The People vs O. J. Simpson. Toobin mines this for all it’s worth.

This book: classic with a capital ‘C.’

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Suicide Note, 6/15/94

p. 97, The Run of His Life: The People vs O. J. Simpson

The suicide note in its entirety, including mis-spellings:

To whom it may concern:

First everyone understand nothing to do with Nicole’s murder. I loved her, always have and always will. If we had a problem it’s because I loved her so much. Recitly we came to the understanding that for now we were’nt right for each other at least for now. Dispite our love we were different and that’s why we mutually agreed to go our spaerate ways.

Code-Two High: The Run of His Life, pp. 51- 52

Officer John Edwards and his partner, a trainee named Patricia Milewski, go to Brentwood to check out a 911 call. Edwards presses a buzzer, a woman indentifying herself as the housekeeper steps out.

She said, “There’s no problem here,” then told the officers to leave.

After a few minutes of this back-and-forth, a blonde woman staggered out from the heavy bushes behind the gate and started yelling to the officers, “He’s going to kill me! He’s going to kill me!” She pounded on the button that opened the gate and then flung herself into Edwards’s arms.

“Who’s going to kill you?” Edwards asked.

“O. J.”

“O. J. who?”

As she got into the squad car, the woman turned and said to Edwards, “You guys never do anything. You never do anything. You come out. You’ve been here eight times. And you never do anything about him.”

Then O. J. walks out of his house, wearing only a bathrobe and screams to the officers, “I don’t want that woman in my bed anymore! I got two other women . . . ”

The officer explains that he is going to have to take O. J. in.

O. J. : “You’ve been out here eight times before and now you’re going to arrest me for this?”

What really kills is that the housekeeper, who witnessed everything, tells the officers to leave. Women who enable abusers are the worst.

Not satisfied with her attempts to keep the police from taking Nicole’s statement, the housekeeper walks over to Nicole, seated in the squad car, and pleads, “Don’t do this, Nicole, come inside.” Then she tries pulling Nicole from the car.

It turned out there were two other women staying in the house, one of whom was having sex with O. J. Neither of these two women tried to help Nicole while O. J. was beating her.

Enablers are bad, but women enablers are the worst. Here’s looking at you, housekeeper! And the two women houseguests. The sounds of the beating must have been heard all over the house. O. J. said it was “a mutual-type wrestling match.”

The police discussed the case with prosecutors. They found O. J.’s explanation credible (That’s like asking a murderer for his version of events and then putting more credence on the murderer’s version than the victim’s because … well, because the victim’s dead. Or might as well be): “If this was just a … drunken brawl after a New Year’s Eve party, a prosecutor” said, “then maybe they should just let it drop.”

The police steer Nicole Simpson towards “mediation” rather than prosecution. That was pretty much the day Nicole Simpson’s fate was sealed. If she had filed charges, she might still have been killed by O. J., but at least he’d be in jail.

Nicole Simpson had called the police eight times. No one thought she should file charges.

Let me put it this way: No woman waits in the bushes for the police to come, with a black eye, and a lump on her forehead, and a cut lip, from “mutual drunken wrestling.” Why they put more credibility on his version than hers is beyond me. Maybe they liked watching USC football too much?

There was one woman police officer who came to the house that night, but she was a trainee. Doubt she would contradict her superiors.

Stay tuned.

The Run of His Life: The People vs O. J. Simpson

p. 48:

  • Simpson received virtually no education at USC. Even today, he can barely write a grammatical sentence.

The Run Of His Life: The People vs O. J. Simpson, p. 11

Self didn’t think this book would be as fleet as it is. But, props to Jeff Toobin for getting The Big Question out of the way quickly: Yes, O. J. Simpson was guilty. Moving ON!

Because of the overwhelming evidence of Simpson’s guilt, his lawyers could not undertake a defense aimed at proving his innocence — one that sought to establish, say, that some other person had committed the murders. Instead, in an astonishing act of legal bravado, they sought to create for the client — a man they believed to be a killer — the mantle of victimhood. Almost from the day of Simpson’s arrest, his lawyers sought to invent a separate narrative, an alternative reality, for the events of June 12, 1944. This fictional version was both elegant and dramatic. It posited that Simpson was the victim of a wide-ranging conspiracy of racist law enforcement officials who had fabricated and planted evidence in order to frame him for a crime he did not commit. It was also, of course, an obscene parody of an authentic civil rights struggle, for this one pitted a guilty ‘victim’ against innocent ‘perpetrators.’

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

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