Review: "Branded" by Ed Gorman

Branded by Ed Gorman Berkley, 2004   “He wanted to build himself a cigarette, but his hands were covered with the woman’s blood. There was something vile about cigarette paper soaked with blood.”   Branded—which is currently available as an ebook from Speaking Volumes—was originally published as a paperback original in 2004 by Berkley and (needless to say) it didn’t get the play it deserved. Andy Malloy is nineteen and preoccupied by the daydreams of youth. Andy, Sir Andrew as he is known in the realm, imagines himself a knight of King Arthur’s Court where he is brave, just, and admired. But his reality is much different. He works as a store clerk, his father is a drunk, and his stepmother, Eileen, is petty and unfaithful. Arriving home from work Andy discovers Eileen lying dead on the couch, a gunshot wound to her forehead. His father, Tom, is the obvious suspect and Andy hides the body until Tom convinces Andy he isn’t the killer. The only problem is the Sheriff, a hard man with a reputation for beating and killing suspects, doesn’t believe any of it. Branded is a superior western novel. It is a heady mixture of character, plot, and action. Populated by real people who act and behave, at different times, both rationally and irrationally. A town gossip whose only joy is causing trouble, a violent lawman with a suspicious background, a town drunk whose personal frailty and desire for respect is painful, an isolated woman with a burned face. And townspeople who do their best to ignore it. The plot is closer to crime, shadows of serial killings no less, than a traditional western and there is a satisfying, and surprising climactic twist. But it is also appealing as a traditional western and readers of both genres will find much to like here. *                      *                      * This is a slightly revised version of a review published on June 8, 2016.

Check out Branded on Amazon—click here for the Kindle edition.

 

Ed Gorman and Ed & Lorraine Warren

 

Ed Gorman and Ed & Lorraine Warren *          *           *

The novelist Ed Gorman collaborated with demonologists Ed and Lorraine Warren on four “non-fiction” books about hauntings and demons between 1987 and 1992. One – The Haunted – was made into a surprisingly good television movie.

The Haunted, by Robert Curran with Jack & Janet Smurl and Ed & Lorraine Warren, was released as a blandly designed hardcover by St. Martin’s Press in 1988. It detailed an allegedly true account of the haunting of Jack and Janet Smurl in their West Pittson, Pennsylvania duplex. Kirkus called it “simplistic and clumsy, but undeniably luridly entertaining” and the dust jacket blurb claimed the Smurls were “victims of abuse—both mental and physical—by inhuman entities [threatening] their sanity, and even their lives.” Surprisingly, when the book was released, the Smurls were still living at the address where all that bad stuff happened. I’m pretty sure I would have moved somewhere less—ghastly. My interest in the book is less about the subject matter (and even less about Ed & Lorraine Warren) than it is about what the guy who did the actual writing, Ed Gorman, had to say about it. But first, Ed was a friend of mine, although I admit we never once set eyes on each other. He was a fine writer that wrote in every popular genre, except maybe romance. His marvelous 1990 story, “The Face”—set during the Civil War—earned him a Spur Award and the Private Eye Writers of America honored him with its Lifetime Achievement Award, The Eye, in 2011. And for those doubting whether Ed wrote The Haunted, this acknowledgment appeared on the copyright page of the original edition:    “Special thanks and acknowledgement to Ed Gorman for his work on this book.”  In a February 2016 email exchange between Ed and I, which was only eight months before Gorman’s death, he wrote: “[The Haunted is] a ‘non-fiction’ book about an allegedly true example [of] demonic possession.” The quotation marks around non-fiction are Ed’s, rather than mine. He added, “[the book] was ridiculous, but it made a good TV movie.” The movie Ed referenced was originally broadcast on Fox on May 6, 1991, and it is a good movie. Cheesy but effective with a few scares that kept this teenager (at the time anyway) wondering what made that sound after the lights went out. Its main players, Sally Kirkland and Jeffrey DeMunn, are terrific as the Smurls. The script is darn good, too. But, and this is important since we live in a world of lies, half-truths, and more lies, The Haunted, according to Ed Gorman is a novel masquerading as non-fiction. The late-Ray Garton, known mostly for his horror fiction, related his similar experience working with the Warrens in this excellent 2009 interview with Damned Connecticut here. Ed went on to write three more “non-fiction” books with the husband-and-wife “demonologists” in the few years following the appearance of The Haunted. For these latter three books Ed changed his nom de plume from Robert Curran to Robert David Chase. Why the change in name? I never thought to ask him, but here is a listing of all of Ed Gorman’s collaborations with Ed and Lorraine Warren: The Haunted: One Family’s Nightmare (1988) Ghost Hunters: True Stories from the World’s Most Famous Demonologists (1989) Werewolf: A True Story of Demonic Possession (1991) Graveyard: True Hauntings from an Old New England Cemetery (1992)

Epilogue: All of Ed’s books with the Warrens have been in print most of the years since their first publication, likely due to the Warrens’ success in Hollywood, but none, I’m sure Ed would say, are of any great literary value. But you know if Ed Gorman wrote them, they will (at least) be entertaining. Ed Gorman also used his Robert David Chase pseudonym for two short stories published in the mid-1990s (and neither had anything to do with the Warrens): “Fathers, Inc.” (Murder for Father, edited by Martin H. Greenberg, Signet, 1994. The anthology included two additional stories by Gorman: “Playground”, as by Daniel Ransom; and “Long Lonesome Roads”, by Ed Gorman [featuring Jack Dwyer].) “The Monster Parade” (Monster Brigade 3000, edited by Martin H. Greenberg and Charles Waugh, Ace, 1996. The anthology includes another of Gorman’s stories: “A Zombie Named Fred,” as by Jake Foster.)

A different version of this article appeared at Dark City Underground on January 31, 2022.

Booked (and Printed): October 2024

 

Ah, my old friend October skated by with hardly saying hello; or so it felt because the entire month passed in a week. A windstorm stripped the trees of their coloring leaves and the nighttime lows plummeted from the 50s to near freezing. Brrr… But my reading—as it always does this time of year—improved over last month with five books, four novels and a story anthology, and three shorts. My first of the month is Gavin Lyall’s splendid aviation thriller, SHOOTING SCRIPT (1966). Lyall’s work is defined by his imaginative plotting, literate style, and Raymond Chandler-esque dialogue. And Shooting Script, which is Lyall’s fourth published novel, is amongst his best. Keith Carr—a Korean War RAF fighter pilot—operates a struggling one plane Caribbean air cargo service. After Carr is gray-listed by the U.S. Government for false rumors he is flying supplies to revolutionaries in the fictional Republic Libra, he is forced to take a gig flying a camera plane for an American movie crew filming in Jamaica. But as one would suspect there is more going on than meets the eye. There are echoes of the Bay of Pigs fiasco, a bigger-than-life actor with a resemblance to John Wayne, right-wing politics and all, and a creative use for a rusting old B-25 bomber. Shooting Script is about as good as a mid-century thriller gets. Chuck Dixon’s vigilante tale, LEVON’S TRADE (2012), came next. I’d heard good things about Levon’s Trade and its eleven sequels. It is well-written and entertaining, but there’s not much original here. It’s the same book that has been written over and over since Don Pendleton introduced The Executioner in 1969, but if you like this stuff, you can do a lot worse than Levon’s Trade. EIGHT VERY BAD NIGHTS, edited by Tod Goldberg (2024), is a solidly entertaining anthology featuring eleven new crime and thriller stories set during the Jewish holiday of Hanukkah. In a phrase, it’s good fun—check my detailed review here. There was a time when I read horror; a lot of horror. And one of my favorite writers from that long ago era is Jack Ketchum. His most popular work tends to be gross-out, ultra-violent slasher stuff; e.g. Off Season (1980), Offspring (1991). But categorizing Ketchum’s writing, even at its most depraved, with the norm in the slasher and splatter-punk subgenres is like comparing a BMW with a Yugo. Ketchum wrote with vigor and style. His tales unfailingly revealed something about humanity; even if that revelation is uncomfortable. So for Halloween this season I reread Ketchum’s 1984 novel, HIDE AND SEEK. I originally read it twenty years ago and I had forgotten almost everything except the climactic sequence and its Maine setting. It’s a demented haunted house tale about five kids playing a game of hide and seek in an abandoned house. It’s damn good, too, but only if you like horror and don’t mind a bit of graphic violence. PENANCE (1996) is David Housewright’s first novel. You’ve likely noticed—if you read the blog regularly—I’m a fan of Housewright’s Rushmore McKenzie mysteries. But Penance features a former St. Paul, Minnesota cop turned P.I. named Holland Taylor. It’s obviously a first novel. The voice isn’t as strong as Housewright’s subsequent books and the plot is overly complicated. But it’s fun watching Taylor spin around a murder investigation that takes him all the way to the State House. And Penance really is good (just not as good as Housewright has become in the decades since).

The number of short stories I read in October dropped from the previous month, but two of the three were novellas. The first is Ed Gorman’s post-apocalyptic, “SURVIVAL” (1995). A novella that was originally published in Gorman’s collection, Cages, “Survival” is a rare so-so tale from Ed. The idea is cool: Fascist religious terrorists demolish humanity with nuclear weapons and the survivors band together in hospitals where they are treated, without medicine, for the after-effects of the blasts. The plotting is a bit confusing, but the premise and characters are interesting enough to make it worthwhile. “DRACULA WINE,” by David Housewright (2021)—the 22nd installment of the multi-author A Grifter’s Song series—is a satisfying caper about a con-woman taking a businessman to the cleaners. It’s good fun with a smooth twist. Jeremiah Healy’s “BATTERED SPOUSE” (1990) is my favorite of Healy’s John Francis Cuddy shorts. Cuddy is called in when a jogger is killed by a hit-and-run driver to drum up something the police may have missed, which he does, of course—read my detailed review here. Fin— Now on to next month…

Review: "Brothers" by Ed Gorman & Richard Chizmar

“Brothers” By Ed Gorman & Richard Chizmar Short, Scary Tales, 2015   “Brothers”—which is a novelette-length expansion of Ed Gorman’s 2006 short story—is a dark tale about brotherhood and loss. Brothers Chet and Michael’s mother died when they were teenagers and their father, a cop and a drunk, was emotionally absent from their lives. Chet, the oldest of the two, essentially raised Michael and as an adult, Chet can’t let go of his perceived responsibility: he has always been there to rescue Michael from his darker self. Chet was there to help Michael escape gambling and alcohol addictions. He facilitated Michael’s hiring as a Chicago cop, and even found him a wholesome wife. So when Michael starts backsliding into his old ways, Chet steps in once again to save his younger brother. “Brothers” is an example of what Ed Gorman did so well: dark, melancholy tales inhabited by characters as real as our own neighbors, friends, siblings, and spouses with a subtle pre-destination that—no matter how hard the characters struggle and plan—will lead them to ruin. But Ed never wrote pure noir and “Brothers” is no exception. He counterbalanced the bleak themes with low-key humor and made his flawed regular-man characters worthwhile by endowing them with a realistic complexity and contradiction. As I noted above, “Brothers” is an expansion of an earlier story, which was published in Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine. I’ve read both the original and the expanded versions   and Richard Chizmar, who I believe was responsible for the expansion, added a significant amount of narrative, including an interesting childhood event that gives the reader a better understanding of Michael. While the original short story is excellent and worth reading, this collaboration is even better. If you can find “Brothers” anywhere, do yourself a favor and read it.

Go here for the out-of-print paperback edition of “Brothers” at Amazon.

 

Booked (and Printed): July 2024

 

Booked (and Printed) July 2024 July always plays better on paper than in the real world. It is too hot, the days are too damn long, and I never get as much reading done as I would like. This July was no different than any other. I read a sparse five books—sparse because two were far short of novel length. The first of these thin interludes is DIVVY UP: SCIENCE FICTION STORIES, which is a marvelous collection of three tales—one novelette and two shorts—written by Stephen Marlowe in the 1950s. Marlowe was best known as a crime writer but he could write just about anything and he truly excelled at turning out entertaining science fiction. You can read more about Marlowe and this collection here, which I should tell you was retitled as Alternatives: Science Fiction Stories. The other shorty was the mediocre thriller COME AND GET US, by Shan Serafin, about a family being hunted in the Utah-Arizona desert. Published in 2016 as part of James Patterson’s BookShots series of novellas, which was a cool idea that never worked out in either quality or sales, Come and Get Us lacks plausibility and characterization, but the setting and action sequences are sharp enough to have kept me turning the pages. Speaking of short stories—the latest single author collection from Stark House, CREAM OF THE CROP: BEST MYSTERY & SUSPENSE STORIES OF BILL PRONZINI (2024), is as good a collection as I’ve read this year. It covers Pronzini’s entire career from the late-1960s to 2023. There are standalones, Nameless detective tales, and one entry from the historical detectives series, Quincannon & Carpenter. It is highly recommended and you can read more of my thoughts about it here. Of the five individual short stories I read, which were all enjoyable, my favorite was Ed Gorman’s “A DISGRACE TO THE BADGE”—a standalone western about an alcoholic lawman, a spoiled rich kid, and a locked-room murder—is rich with characterization and atmosphere and, best of all, it is ironic and surprising. I’m not sure when “A Disgrace to the Badge” was originally published since The Long Ride Back (2004), where I read it, had a disappointing copyright page. The two shorts I read by James Reasoner—“DOWN IN THE VALLEY” (1979), “DEATH AND THE DANCING SHADOWS” (1980)—both fit comfortably in the crime / detective field. I had read “Down in the Valley” once before and Reasoner’s ability to shift perspective from one character to another so easily, and without any confusion for the reader, is amazing. I liked “Death of the Dancing Shadows” just as well and reviewed it in detail here.

I dug both full-length novels I read in July. ROBAK’S WITCH, by Joe L. Hensley (1997)—which is my favorite read of the month—is the eleventh (of twelve) book in the Don Robak series. Robak is a rural Ohio attorney, soon to be judge, with experience working death penalty cases. When he is called in to help an old friend from law school defend a woman accused of murdering her teenage niece and nephew, Robak finds a community convinced of her guilt. A wacky fundamentalist church spreading rumors she is a witch and far too many citizens, including the County Sheriff, content with going along. You can read my review here. Then, of course, I read the next in David Housewright’s McKenzie series, CURSE OF THE JADE LILY (2012), because boy do I love these books. McKenzie is a witty, funny, and likable cuss with several million dollars in the bank and nothing to do but favors for friends. In this one, McKenzie helps a museum get a priceless artwork back after it was stolen by their security chief. The busy opening and sprawling character list mark this one down from the best in the series, but it is still good fun. The only book I started and chose not to finish was Jack Higgins’s 1992 EYE OF THE STORM, which is where Higgins’s longtime series-character Sean Dillon was introduced. The Dillon books have never been my cuppa but I have fond memories of reading Eye of the Storm back in my innocent youth. While Eye of the Storm still held some attraction for me, I simply wasn’t in the mood. Maybe I’ll try reading it again in one of the colder months when I’m not quite as grumpy. Fin— Now on to next month…

Lost & Found: A Science Fiction Fan Letter from Ed Gorman

 

Ed Gorman’s Fan Letter to Science Fiction Quarterly published in the Nov. 1956 issue ________________________

The mystery writer and all-around good guy Ed Gorman (1941 – 2016) would have been 15 years old when this fan letter appeared in the Nov. 1956 issue of Science Fiction Quarterly. The addressee, “Mr. Lowndes,” was one Robert W. Lowndes, the editor of SFQ and the stories Ed mentions in the letter were authored by the following… (1) “No Future in This” by Robert Randall; (2) “One of Them?” by Robert Abernathy; (3) “The Big Hush” by Irving E. Cox, Jr.; (4) “The Munk Hour” by Basil Wells; (5) “The Man Whom Left Paradise” by Russ Winterbotham & “The Piece Thing” by Carol Emshwiller; and the “below average” Inside Science Fiction column was written by Robert A. Madle.

Review: "The Poker Club" by Ed Gorman

 

The Poker Club
by Ed Gorman
Leisure Books, 2000

 

The Poker Club, by Ed Gorman, originally published as a limited and signed edition hardcover by Cemetery Dance in 1999, is an expansion of Gorman’s sleek novella, “Out There in the Darkness” published in 1995. It is the story of four poker buddies whose lives go sideways when a burglar interrupts their weekly game. The men’s fear and anger, heightened by a rash of burglaries and property crimes in their middle-class neighborhood, boils over and the burglar finishes the night dead. Instead of calling the police, the four friends dump the burglar’s body in a river and try to move on, but then the late-night calls start, and the men find themselves knocking on the doors of the criminal classes.
     The Poker Club is a suspense novel propelled by the amplifying effect of the primary characters’ fear-based decisions. These decisions—we’ll call the police after we’ve scared the burglar, no one will ever know he was here—isolate the men, in quick succession, from their families, their neighborhood, and ultimately, from each other. The plotting is straight-forward and without any real surprises, which is okay because the novel’s power is emotion. The men are pushed into decisions (and actions) most middle-class men never see. They face the prospect of losing their reputations, their professions—and with this, the loss of their lifestyles—their families, and, perhaps, their lives. It is more psychological and character-driven than action and it works well. 
     The Poker Club is dedicated, in part, to Richard Matheson and it is a good fit. The way suburban middle-class America is transformed from a comfortable and safe place to something less friendly, almost nefarious, is similar to Matheson’s brilliant novel, Stir of Echoes. The Poker Club was translated into a tolerable low-budget film directed by Tim McCann and starring Johnathon Schaech.

Click here for the Kindle edition and here for the paperback at Amazon.

NIGHT CALLER by Daniel Ransom (Ed Gorman)

Ed Gorman is best remembered as a crime and western writer, but he wrote eight horror novels between 1986 (Toys in the Attic) and 1996 (Night Screams) using the pseudonym Daniel Ransom. The results were mixed; most are entertaining, but Gorman thought one of the books was so bad he wouldn’t allow a copy to cross the threshold of his home. The second Daniel Ransom novel, Night Caller (1987), is my favorite of Gorman’s Ransom novels for its perfectly cheesy 1980’s setting and its sharp plotting.

While vacationing in the Midwest with her teenage daughter, Jamie, Sally Baines’ car breaks down on a rural highway. A gentleman farmer gives them a ride into a nowhere town called Haversham. Their rescuer treats them well, but Sally is unsettled by the way he looks at Jamie, and later her unease grows when she sees the farmer pointing Jamie out to another townsperson. The two women check in to The Royal—Haversham’s only hotel—after the mechanic tells them the car won’t be ready until the next day. And when the sun goes down, things really get weird.

Night Caller is a small town horror with a smattering of Psycho and a dash of Stephen King. The characters are strange and amusing, especially a local doctor and a disgraced national television news reporter. The mother-daughter team of Sally and Jamie are easy to root for, and become more likable as the story unfolds. Ed Gorman, as he did with everything he wrote, adds a layer of mystery and ratchets the suspense with admirable craft. Night Caller is a hokey and fun light horror novel. It would make a perfect television movie—something similar to the campy-Stephen King television films made in the 1990s—but until an enterprising producer makes that happen, at least we have this appealing novel.

Night Caller was revised and reissued under the title The Girl in the Attic. I’ve never read the revised edition, but it’s available as an ebook and as an audio book.

THE POKER CLUB by Ed Gorman

The Poker Club, by Ed Gorman, originally published as a limited and signed edition hardcover by Cemetery Dance in 1999, is an expansion of Gorman’s sleek novella, “Out There in the Darkness” published in 1995. It is the story of four poker buddies whose lives go sideways when a burglar interrupts their weekly game. The men’s fear and anger, heightened by a rash of burglaries and property crimes in their middle-class neighborhood, boils over and the burglar finishes the night dead. Instead of calling the police, the four friends dump the burglar’s body in a river and try to move on, but then the late night calls start, and the men find themselves knocking on the doors of the criminal class.

The Poker Club is a suspense novel propelled by the amplifying effect of the primary characters’ fear-based decisions. These decisions—we’ll call the police after we’ve scared the burglar, no one will ever know he was here—isolate the men, in quick succession, from their families, their neighborhood, and ultimately, from each other. The plotting is straight-forward and without any real surprises, which is okay because the novel’s power is emotion. The men are pushed into decisions (and actions) most middle-class men never see. They face the prospect of losing their reputations, their professions—and with this, the loss of their lifestyles—their families, and, perhaps, their lives. It is more psychological and character-driven than action and it works pretty well.

The Poker Club is dedicated, in part, to Richard Matheson and it’s a good fit. The depiction of suburban middle-class America as a comfortable and safe place before it transforms into something less friendly, almost nefarious, is similar to Matheson’s brilliant novel, Stir of Echoes. The Poker Club was translated into a tolerable low-budget film directed by Tim McCann and starring Johnathon Schaech.

RIDERS ON THE STORM by Ed Gorman

Ed Gorman’s Sam McCain—small town lawyer and investigator—is at the top of my list for private eye serial characters. He is charming, sarcastic, funny, and cool in an off-hand if worried manner. He is an outsider. He grew up in the poor section of Black River Falls (a fictional rural Iowa city) called The Knolls. A place he escaped with a law degree, but a place he can never leave behind because he understands the people. The struggles. The poverty and hopelessness. But mostly, that scared little boy from the wrong part of town is still in him. Worrying. Doubting. 

There were ten Sam McCain novels, and the final, published by Pegasus in October 2014, is one of the best. It’s also the darkest. Even its title, in honor of the song by The Doors, is dark—Riders on the Storm. It’s a direct sequel to Ticket to Ride, and it finds an older, more world-weary Sam McCain in 1971, America. Vietnam is full-tilt, and, as Bob Dylan wrote a few years earlier, “The times they are a-changin’.” Sam, in a short stint with the Army, is involved in car crash and for five weeks doesn’t know his own name—

“My name is Sam McCain. There was a time eight months ago when I didn’t believe that. When both a neurosurgeon and a psychologist visited me every day and tried to convince me of it.”

There is a mystery, and a good one too, but the story is Vietnam—not the shooting and killing in Southeast Asia, but rather its impact at home. Will Cullen, a veteran who struggles with his actions in the war, is accused of killing a local businessman and budding politician named Steve Donovan. Donovan publicly, and maliciously, beats Will Cullen at a political event because Will signed on with the antiwar organization “Vietnam Veterans Against the War.” The next day Steve Donovan is found murdered, and the most likely suspect is Cullen. A suspect both Sam and Will’s wife are dubious of, and Sam spends the rest of the novel trying to clear Cullen as a suspect.

But proving Cullen’s innocence is less than easy. Gone is the incompetent and laughable Chief of Police Cliffie Sykes Jr. and in is the professional and competent, “please call me Paul” Chief Foster. Foster is certain of Cullen’s guilt, but he is seemingly fair and uncomfortably considerate of Sam and Cullen’s wife Karen. But Sam is equally certain of Cullen’s innocence and proving it becomes very personal.

Riders on the Storm is Sam McCain, but darker and more intense than the earlier entries in the series. Mary Travers is back with two young daughters from her failed marriage. Her return is good for both her and Sam. Jamie Newton, Sam’s cutely incompetent secretary is also back, but different. Older, very competent, and, unfortunately, no longer referring to Sam as “Mr. G.” There are more characters than Cliffie Sykes Jr. missing—Judge Esme Anne Whitney is nowhere to be seen, and Mrs. Goldman, Sam’s landlord, is AWOL, as are all the colorful Sykes’ relatives. In their place is a darker, more introspective Sam McCain whose youthful exuberance is tempered by time and experience. He is no longer a young man, but he is a more complete man.

Riders on the Storm is different from the previous Sam McCain novels, but as any good character and series, the change is inevitable and welcome. It is the Seventies after all. The age of well-earned cynicism—big government, big business, and all the rest. It’s Sam McCain’s arrival to maturity. Deep with meaning, disappointment, and paradoxically, fulfillment. Even more, it is a very fine private eye novel.

SHADOW GAMES by Ed Gorman

I have a particular fondness for Shadow Games. It is not only a terrific novel, but it was my introduction to the work of Ed Gorman. The year was 2000. I made a habit of studying and writing in a library not far from where I worked as a pizza delivery driver; a job I won’t recommend, but a job that treated me well as I navigated the college scene. My usual table was tucked at the back of the fiction stacks. I sat, my back to the wall, facing a bookshelf packed with the latest genre titles making study nearly impossible since the stories beckoned me. 

There was one title that, day after day, caught my attention. It was a mass market paperback, black background with orange-red print and the large white Leisure Books’ logo—a publisher I miss badly—at the top of its spine. Its title, Shadow Games. When I finally relented and read Shadow Games, sitting right there in the library, its tale of Hollywood ambition, perversion, and lost potential, all told in a darkly humorous tone, made me a lifetime fan of Ed Gorman’s work. 

It is the story of Cobey Daniels, a child television star, musician and, as the novel opens, the playwright and star of his own one man show. The play is autobiographical and humorously recalls Cobey’s life as a fallen Hollywood superstar. A life that has had more than a few public scandals. The most serious involved a sixteen-year-old girl in a Miami, Florida mall causing Cobey’s three-year stay in a Missouri mental hospital. But Cobey is better now, the addictions and mood swings are behind him. Or so Cobey thinks until he awakens in a Chicago apartment, difficulty remembering his name, a headless woman lying in a pool of her own blood on the kitchen floor. 

Shadow Games is a dark ride across American pop culture—hero worship, sex, vanity, dizzying unreality, hypocrisy, cynicism and downright craziness. It is a crime novel at its center, but its view of Hollywood and its fandom illuminates modern culture in a manner both convincing and familiar. It is dark, possibly one of the three or four darkest tales I’ve read, but its humor—

“‘I know a lot of people think I’m a goody-goody because of my role on the show. Well, what’s wrong with being a clean-cut, all-American teenager?’ 

“Cobey Daniels, interviewed in Teen Scene, August, 1984”

“(Reporter)   The police are saying that you pulled a knife on the waitress because she wouldn’t serve you liquor. Any comments?

“(Cobey)   Yeah, just one. Why don’t you go f*ck off, you asshole? 

“Cobey Daniels responding to KABC-TV reporter, May, 1985”

—lifts it from what, in lesser hands, could have been a deeply depressing story to a very readable and damn good novel.

Shadow Games, as it should be, is back in print with a high quality trade paperback from Short, Scary Tales. It has been, from what I can tell, lightly edited by the author and is titled Shadow Games and Other Sinister Stories of Show Business. It includes four of Ed Gorman’s finest short stories, “Scream Queen,” “Riff,” “Such a Good Girl,” and “Pards.” Do yourself a favor and buy it right now.

This review originally went live May 11, 2016. Unfortunately, the Short, Scary Tales edition has left print, but Shadow Games is still available as an ebook.

"The Santa Claus Murders" by Ed Gorman

A Christmas novella featuring Ed Gorman’s Sam McCain, originally published in Crooks, Crimes and Christmas (Worldwide, 2003) and, as far as I know, currently out-of-print.

Sam McCain’s only reason to attend a high school reunion / Christmas party is a hope there will be attractive, available, attentive former female classmates. The party is at the home of the wildly wealthy Don Lillis, who inherited the house and a steel mill from his father. On his arrival, Sam finds the usual clustering of people. The wealthy and upwardly mobile, the weirdoes, the blue-collar-types, all congregating in their respective groups. Sam has the uncanny ability to move from group to group, but he doesn’t quite belong to any of them. 

The party turns bad when Bob Nugent, the class drunk, is found in the guest room with a knife in his throat. Bob Nugent was the kid everyone expected to succeed. In school, Bob worked hard, was kind, friendly and the teachers loved him. He was, to Sam’s thinking, a brownnose of the first order. But something went wrong for Bob during his college years and he started drinking. The party screeches to a halt when Bob’s body is found and the unlikable and incompetent Sheriff Cliff Sykes, Jr is called to investigate. Cliffie, as he is called behind his back, makes all the wrong assumptions and McCain decides to solve the mystery on his own for two reasons: to make Sykes look the clown, and to make sure the right person is brought to justice.

“The Santa Claus Murders” is Sam McCain at his best. He is young, endowed with the wisdom of a much older man, intelligent and savvy at why people do what they do, and cynical with a perfectly complimented amount of optimism. He is a kid that doesn’t quite fit a category—he grew up in the poor section of town, but he is a college graduate with his own small law practice. He is an ideal Ed Gorman character: intelligent, cynical, tough, realistic, and yet hopeful and wistful at the same time.

The mystery is perfectly executed. The killer is revealed only moments after the reader figures it out. The supporting cast is top-notch. Cliffie Sykes is his usual gruff and annoying self. The Judge is kind and vindictive in a swift, judgmental and condescending manner. And everyone else plays their parts perfectly.