Down the hill where the industrial gas of the chemical plant
once stained the air and burned her nose.
Then a right, up the hill to the house with all the flowers.
A right at their house, a right turn to the porch, up three steps to open the door, step inside.
They walk past the park,
Then a left to the fire station, where they stop a moment and she gazes at the flag.
They walk past the park.
Her gaze from a puzzled face is direct, focused on the horizon.
One stiff step after another, both memory and learning;
Mouth moving, voice a whisper, a song for someone to learn, says I am, follow.
I, with my cane, nod a greeting.
One day they walked past the hospital on its busy street.
Her eyes wide with panic at the honking and truck rumbles.
Did he need to tell her that was where their children were born?
One day she walked alone.
Did she turn at the fire station and wonder at the flag?
Did she hear her high school band fill the empty street with marching feet and brass and drums and remember cheering?
Moments later he was running after her.
They walk together past the park.
Then a right past the houses that have changed colors.
Then a left past the empty lot where the house burned down.
Then a right past the tall fence where the big dog always barked.
They walk, pacing, measuring, trying to remember, as if feet on asphalt, the smell of newly mowed lawns, the friendly shout of a neighbor, will open the memory to recognize what their life together was like.
Remember, he says. This is all you.
It is the last thing he can give her.
They walk past the empty park, where the ball field was carved from the once lush grass.
They walk past the silent park, the infield brown with swirling dust.
Crows squabble over morsels in the torn, gray grass.
Does she hear the joyful scream of her daughter who finally hit the ball to the outfield and ran and stumbled on little legs to first base where she jumped up and down?
The left turn to the fire station is near first base.
They turn, marking the trail at the fire station with the flag;
they turn again, then turn again, taking the path home.
A note of thanks to all who stopped by to chat, tell stories, or buy my books. Those are the moments that make the time at the events worthwhile. Thanks to Belvidere, Randolph, New Providence and Passaic County.
Now it’s on to Collingswood, Easton and Woodbridge.
I’ll have for signing and sales the Jersey-based Frank Nagler Mysteries.
The series, set in New Jersey, featuring Detective Frank Nagler, “One of modern fiction’s expertly drawn detectives,” according to Kirkus Review.
Oct 4: Collingswood Book Festival, 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. I’m at Booth 105 on Haddon Avenue.
We live in a world where that are as many conspiracies as breakfast cereals.
The five-book, award-winning Frank Nagler Mysteries are no exception.
A sneaky, back-room conspiracy is introduced in the first book in the series, THE SWAMPS OF JERSEY, when the former mayor of Ironton, N.J., powerbroker Howard Newton brags to reporter Jimmy Dawson about its existence.
The conspiracy simmers through the other three books in the series–A GAME CALLED DEAD, THE WEIGHT IF LIVING and THE RED HAND–until breaking into the open in the latest book, DRAGONY RISING, by blowing up part of downtown Ironton.
The Scene from THE SWAMPS OF JERSEY:
“You’re surprised, Jimmy,” Howard Newton said. “You always seem surprised; as long as I’ve known you. Need to stop being surprised; it’ll clear up your vision. Sometimes what seems to be really crooked, is actually pretty straight. Look at it from a different direction.”
Dawson thought, am I?
QR code for THE SWAMPS OF JERSEY
Newton gazed over the lawn. “I know you think I’m a crook,” he said. “Go back and look what I’ve done. I helped people. Their sons needed jobs, the daughters needed to get into the county college but her grades weren’t so hot. So I helped.” ….
“So they set up an alternative way of doing business, because, hell, they had no money, but mostly they knew they could not trust the mill owners or the bosses or the bankers, the landlords or anyone who had control over their lives. So we all did favors, and some of the favors got big.”
The old man stood up and put his hands in his pants pockets.
“Did that make us corrupt? Don’t think so. Made us traders. Trade something, get a little extra for it when you trade it again. It was all so small time. But you know what? People didn’t lose their homes to the banks. If they got behind somehow it was made right. And when they got hurt on the job and the factory boss threw them out, their kids got fed , the house got fixed. Then they did a little work for you. Look at that flood last week. Those people will be paying off those repairs for years because the insurance companies who sold them home insurance didn’t tell them that it didn’t cover water damage. What the fuck did they think a flood was anyway?”
Newton stood and walked to the edge of the patio. “The crooks are wearing the suits, Jimmy. Twisting the law into knots to justify anything they want. The guys with three cells phones and nine hundred dollar suits. Listen to them. They sell so much bullshit, they forget who they sold it to.”
IN DRAGONY RISING, the conspiracy is discovered:
Ramirez read the title: “‘An ordinance to reform the duties of the city council of Ironton, New Jersey.’ Reform how?”
“By taking away their statutory rights to power and making them an advisory council,” Lauren said, taking the papers from Ramirez. “Um, here, see?”
She read, “‘The council shall with this act rescind all powers of appointment, financial oversight, and legislative authority; with such powers being transferred to the mayor, whose term limits are hereby suspended, per Article 256-2006.’ That means that Bill Weston is about to become mayor for life.”
QR code for DRAGONY RISING
“What about elections?” he asked.
“Suspended,” Lauren said. “Let me see,” and she shuffled the papers. “Here. “‘Public elections may be suspended under the emergency powers granted under Article 256-2006.’”
“What emergency?” Ramirez asked.
“The assassination of the mayor,” Nagler said. “Holy Mother of God.”
“They put this in motion in 2006, Frank. That meeting was not a drug deal but a coup,” Lauren said.
The Frank Nagler Mysteries are available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Ingram Spark, and at these bookstores:
Book & Puppet, Easton, Pa., and the Mechanicsburg Mystery Bookshop, Mechanicsburg, Pa.
THE SWAMPS OF JERSEY The Swamps of Jersey, Frank Nagler Mysteries Book One: They buried everything in the Old Iron Bog. But who buried the young woman? And why does the ring she was wearing remind Detective Frank Nagler of his old girlfriend? “You can practically smell the corruptive influences and the dank, putrid odor of the swamp in this book. A gritty crime novel that could be ripped from the headlines.” https://www.amazon.com/Swamps-Jersey-Michael-Stephen-Daigle-ebook/dp/B0DGYFCFML?ref_=ast_author_dp&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.5PuY3o2z7o1AOorAzpirYsZ
