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CONTENT Su S p E n S E M ag a z i n E S e pte mb e r 2 0 1 2 / Vo l . 0 3 8 Sneak Peek Excerpt of The Paris Lawyer by Sylvie Granotier . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 America's Favorite Suspense Authors: Part VI by Anthony J . Franze . . . . . . .6 Or the Carnie? by Jack Ryan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 Debut Author Joy Castro: Continues to Find her Way . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 The Dream by Liam Delaney . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17 7 Suspenseful Books to Read Before End of Summer by Dave Thomas . . . . 19 Sneak Peek Excerpt of The Last Justice by Anthony J . Franze . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 Ben Sussman: His Story’s Pace is the Hook . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26 Hollywood Hexes by CK Webb . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28 Inside the Pages: Suspense Magazine Book Reviews . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31 Suspense Magazine Movie Reviews . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42 Featured Artist: Lainie Chivers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43 Stranger Than Fiction: The Ark of Noah by Donald Allen Kirch . . . . . . . . 53 Crash Test Dummies by R .G . Halstead . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 60 The Program by Cyndy Edwards Lively . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66 Contributor's Corner: Lynne Levandowski . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75 Sneak Peek Excerpt of The Last Degree by Dina Rae . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78
Preview of “The Paris Lawyer” by Sylvie Granotier Press Photo Credit: Nathalie Eno One early afternoon, in all other ways like any other afternoon, her mother takes her out in her stroller, soothing her with a laughing mom’s voice. She tells her about the wind that sings and then softens among the branches and the swallows that compete in skill to skim the pond for a few refreshing drops of water before flying off again in perfect circles into the clouds. The little girl does not understand every word, but she follows her mother’s fingers as they imitate birds gliding through the air down to her face. Then they will go home for snack followed by a nap. It is a reassuring life, where nothing unexpected happens. They stop at the edge of the woods, in the shade of the trees. The little girl plays with the light, squinting to change the intensity of the rays. Before the screaming starts, before her mother’s distant terror terrorizes her in turn, before the panicked shrill pierces her ears, and the little girl takes refuge in sleep to bury an anxiety far too great for her to bear, her mother gives her a generous and warm hug, leaving her with the sight of the entire sky, and says, “I’ll be right back.” A final broken promise. Sitting as she is, the child cannot see the body, or what is left of it, sprawled on the ground, beaten to a pulp. Yet that moment of abandonment remains forever engraved in her adult memory. The sky is calm and clear above the Seine River in Paris, where traffic is nervous and gray along the banks. Catherine Monsigny cannot figure out what links this fleeting moment with that fixed point in her past, that fuzzy, probably reconstructed memory that usually is tactful enough to leave her alone. She has even tried to convince herself that it has stopped broadcasting from that faraway land of her childhood. She crosses the Pont Neuf, parking her scooter at the Place Dauphine. She shakes her head, hurting her ears as she yanks off her helmet, which she stows in her top box, and grabs her briefcase and large bag. She walks quickly toward the courthouse, cursing her short legs, slipping into her court robe as she climbs the steps, and by habit she automatically replaces those old uninvited images with a quick summary of the case she is about to defend. Her client—what’s his name again? Ah, yes, Cedric Devers—is accused of assault and battery. He admits using force and justifies it by blaming the harassment that preceded it. According to him, he met a woman—Monique Lemaire, fifty-six years old—in a bar, took her back to his place for a short SuspenseMagazine.com 1 session between consenting adults. Ciao, no see you next time, because there won’t be one. Monique did not see things the same way, harassed him by phone, and one night too many, she took to ringing her seducer’s doorbell until he reacted. He opened the door. That was a fatal error. Stubborn with drink, she wouldn’t take no for an answer and tried to force her way in. He had to stop the noise and ended up pushing her. She fell, which resulted in a few bruises and three days’ disability leave. Catherine has not yet met her client. They have spoken on the phone. She glances around to see that he is even later than she is. She pokes her head into the courtroom to check the proceedings. The pending case is not yet over. Just as well. Her client will have the time he needs to arrive. Too bad for him. She does not like waiting. She paces. “Maître Monsigny?” She senses fingers lightly brush her shoulder, spins around and looks into the deepest gray—or perhaps green— eyes she has ever seen. She feels as though she’s falling into them. She grasps for something to catch her balance, and her professional composure kicks in, winning every time as it does. She throws him a sharp look and spits out, “Cedric Devers? You’re late.” The thirtyish teenager, classy despite the jeans and sweatshirt he has tossed on, stares right into her eyes, unbothered, like a child, without blinking. 3
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