Quick review: Some books have characters so alive you think they’re someone you know, or maybe knew. Some books have plots that keep you guessing to the last word. Some books have settings so real you can feel them, hear them, smell them. And some have prose that flows, sings, and stings, crafted by a writer who knows how to handle words. Some rare books, like “Nagler’s Secret,” have all of these. Read it. Read ALL the Frank Nagler stories.A
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At the center of the story in NAGLER’S SECRET, Book 6 of the Frank Nagler Mysteries, is the overlap between the story’s crimes, and how they infiltrate the lives if all the characters.
The story is moody and uses the setting of Ironton, N.J., as a character.
One building, the “old theater” is used often as a place to interweave these elements.
The theater is based on Dover, N.J.’s Baker theater, first built in1906 when Dover was the regional industrial center.
In the Nagler mysteries the theater is the symbol of Ironton’s economic revival.
The scene is between Det. Frank Nagler, and his companion acting mayor Lauren Fox, who delivers a moment of truth for Nagler.
The scene:
“How many more lives does this place have, ya think, Lauren?”
He continued before she could answer.
“How many more times can Hamlet die here, or the Music Man strut or Willy Loman pack our sorrows into his sample case? How many more times can Indiana Jones slash across an 80-foot screen to burnish our dreams, or Thelma and Louise sail into immortality? Will it live to see the day when an Ironton High School sophomore will suck the oxygen out of the place with her kneeling rendition of Maria on the playground spilling her love and anger over the concrete, or a bunch of garage band trashers rattle the beams with the incoherent sonic chords of their brewing dreams?”
He spun and stood, his back to Lauren.
“Will Romeo reach again to Juliet?” as he reached out to the stage galleries. “Will Hamilton, Jefferson and Washington be here to dream of a great nation, or will an ageless bluesman with a guitar and beer-bottle slide peel back the dust of time,” as he air-guitar’d the moment. “Or a Christmas pageant that has Santa and Jesus Christ step-dancing to Bill Monroe. Will a comic leave them rolling in the aisles before some nine-year-old who mashed Mozart has the audience wash away her tears with a wave of applause? Or is it the fading light of a striptease that leaves the audience wondering if the dress actually came off before the spotlight faded?”
He stepped to the center stage and spread his hands.
“Or will this just be the place in its last act that a 14-year-old kid with paint cans tried to tell us the story of her troubled, hunted friends, begging us to end the pain? Or worse, is it the closing act of a broken-down cop, tripping over his own heartache and frailties who could not help her?”
“Frank.”
Lauren’s sharp voice shattered the silence.
“Isn’t that what we ask ourselves every day in this city, this godforsaken city? What else can go wrong? You ask yourself that every day as a cop. But what do we do?” She paced the orchestra pit. “Something. We do … something. I told you about my first day as acting mayor, sitting in Ollivar’s chair pinned under the weight of all he had done, grieving for his death and just so pissed that for once in his slimy life he couldn’t have done the right thing before it was too late. Was that too much to ask?”
Frank exited the stage, crossed to Lauren and offered her an embrace. “I remember that,” he said. “I …”
She stepped back and spun way, holding out one arm.
“You know what I did that day? This is the part I didn’t tell you. After begging state officials for funding, firing the last of the Dragony sympathizers who were carrying matches ready to ignite it all again, and getting hung up on by corporate types who were so fucking full of their know-it-all bullshit and could not be bothered to invest here even at the steepest damn discount they were ever going to be offered? I hung up the phone, crossed to the window and after smacking the glass a few times, I noticed the flowers in the parking lot planters were badly limp. I couldn’t call public works because I had fired most of them. So you know what I did, Frank, that first day, the day I was supposed to begin saving Ironton? Turns out some smart person years ago built a metal cabinet on the side of the building with a faucet and for a hose just to water the plants in the parking lot. I couldn’t fix anything else that day, so I watered the flowers.” She crossed to him and touched his face. “Watered the flowers. So, no more tragedy, no more drama, Frank Nagler. If Maria Ramirez was here, she’d pat your cheek twice and tell you to suck it up.” She kissed him. “But first shave, then suck it up.”
Lauren waved to the balcony. “If that balcony is where you fell,” she turned and pointed to the orchestra floor, “Then here is where you stand.”
