Mama Gets Hitched by Deborah Sharp

(Midnight Ink, Paper, 319 pp., $14.95)

Reviewed by Edward Irvin

          Having grown up in culturally diverse South Florida, where Northeasterners and Canadians spend their winters and later their retirements, I sometimes forget that Florida is part of the South.  In Mama Gets Hitched, Deborah Sharp's Miami-meets-Mayberry murder mystery, we are reminded on every side-splitting page just how far south Florida is.

Mama Gets Hitched is the third in the Mace Bauer Mystery series. Mace's mother, the Mama to whom the title refers, is preparing to walk down the aisle for the fifth time. While planning the reception which, despite Mace's objections, is going to have a Gone With The Wind theme, Mace finds Ronnie Hodges, event caterer and family friend, stabbed to death in the kitchen of the VFW hall.

The ensuing investigation turns up multiple suspects ranging from Ronnie's widow Alice, who had discovered that her husband was being unfaithful, to C'ndee and Tony, relatives by marriage of Mama's fiancé, Sal. C'ndee and Tony conveniently arrived in town from New Jersey on the day of Ronnie's murder, hoping to partner in an event planning business themselves, which would've made Ronnie their competititon. In the rural town of Himmarshee, Florida, where the book is set, the event planning business is very cutthroat.

Setting and characters are what make this book so much fun. Mace is not a sleuth by profession. When she isn't sniffing around crime scenes, Mace is a wildlife wrangler by trade, much to the dismay of Mama and Mace's two sisters Maddie and Marty. Mace's on-and-off boyfriend, Carlos, is a transplanted detective from Miami still suffering from culture shock. Mama evokes images of Vicki Lawrence in the 80s sitcom Mama's Family, and Cndee and Tony read like extras from the set of The Sopranos or Jersey Shore. Culture clashes abound, especially when the fast-paced lifestyle of New Jersey meets slowed down southern hospitality.

Tossing a last sultry look over her shoulder at the young cop, C'ndee grabbed two cartons of coffee cups, ducked under the tape, and sashayed toward us across the parking lot.

"My gawd!" She pushed one of the cardboard, four-cup holders into my hand without asking. "I thought I'd never get out of that diner. Must everyone tell the check-out girl every detail of their lives? 'How's your daughter, Donna? Still off at college?' C'ndee affected an overdone down-South accent.

"'Oh, she's fine, honey. Having a little trouble with English lit, and of course she's packed on a few pounds. The Freshman Fifteen, they call it. And she's dating a boy we absolutely cannot stand. He's from New York . . .'

"Aaaaargh! how do you people ever get anything done?"

As if the flashy convertible wasn't enough in a town full of pickups, C'ndee's impatience for niceties nailed her as an outsider. In Himmarshee, everybody knows—and cares—about everybody's business.

The mystery is solid as well, although the climactic scene of the book felt rushed. Sharp mixes in enough misdirection and red herring characters to keep the reader guessing as to the identity of the guilty party. She does so while taking a few tongue-in-cheek shots at her own craft, most notably when Carlos suggests to Mama that the high tech methods seen on television are for dramatic effect:

"I can tell you the medical examiner will check the knife wounds on Ronnie's body against the hog's head to see if the same weapon was used."

"I knew it!" Mama said. "It's just like on CSI."

Carlos smiled. "Well, not exactly. There's a lot of dramatic license on TV and in the movies. And don't get me started on murder mystery books."

There are mutliple references to the earlier books of the series, all of which focus on the misadventures of Mama, all sounding just as humorous and well-written as Mama Gets Hitched.

Edward Irvin lives and writes in Boynton Beach.

Baja Florida by Bob Morris

(Minotaur Books, Hardcover, 242 pp., $24.99)

Reviewed by Edward Irvin

          In the ever-expanding world of coastal South Florida crime fiction, few authors convey the laid-back, sipping-spiced-rum-from-a-coconut-shell-while-lounging-beneath-a-tiki-hut feeling better than Bob Morris.

Morris's newest book, Baja Florida, is the fifth featuring witty retired football player turned exotic palm tree farmer and part-time sleuth, Zack Chasteen. Most of the action takes place among the largely unpopulated islands of the Bahamian archipelago, away from Chasteen's nursery in fictional LaDonna, Florida. Zack is contacted by his long-time friend Mickey Ryser, a self-made millionaire who is terminally ill. As a last wish, Mickey asks Zack to find his estranged daughter Jen, whom he hasn't seen in more than twenty years. Jen has disappeared while sailing with her friends to the Bahamas, where she had agreed to come be at her father's side. The private investigator Mickey hired to find her disappeared, along with a $10,000 retainer. Zack sets off for the Bahamas with Boggy, his Taino shaman sidekick, to find Jen and reunite her with Mickey before it's too late.  But to late for who?

Zack finds and questions the P.I., whose efforts to find Jen include posting fliers and waiting on a barstool for information to come to him. The meeting quickly escalates into a very physical, not to mention public, altercation.  Zack also meets Karen, one of Jen's sailing companions who, following an argument among the crew, got off the boat at port and made alternative travel arrangements. The distraught girl shares her concerns regarding Jen's remaining boatmates, strangers who came aboard as last-minute replacements for other crew members who were victims of unfortunate accidents just before the ship's departure. Another witness tells Zack that he saw Jen's sailboat, Chasing Molly, being towed into harbor by the Dailey brothers, known boat thieves. Zack, Boggy, and Charlie Callahan, the seaplane pilot who flew them to the Bahamas, set out to question the three brothers, which leads to another violent confrontation.

The next day, the P.I. is found dead in his hotel room, Karen is mugged and beaten comatose, and the Dailey brothers' boatyard hangar is burned to its foundation. As the lone common denominator, Zack quckly becomes the prime suspect for these crimes.

"Whoever was behind this had done it with every intention of laying the blame on me. They had done a smart job of it. And I had pitched right in and given them all the help they needed, leaving behind a messy trail and providing witnesses every step of the way," Zack reflects.

Knowing that he can't clear his name and find Jen from behind bars, Zack goes on the lam in a race against time to save not only himself, but his dying friend and his daughter.

In Chasteen, Morris has created one of the most likeable protagonists in Florida crime fiction today. His sarcastic wit, loyalty to friends and family, as well as his philanthropic nature, are sure to endear him to fans of Tom Corcoran's Alex Rutledge, Les Standiford's John Deal, or James Hall's Thorn. In addition to fiction, Morris also writes travel and food pieces for magazines. That work comes through in his Chasteen books, as Zack has discriminating  tastes in exotic food and fine liquor.  Bahamian destinations such as Georgetown, Lady Cut Cay, Marsh Habour, and Green Turtle Cay are described in such vivid detail that one might want to consider applying sunscreen prior to reading Baja Florida.

Aside from Bahamarama, the first in the Zack Chasteen series, which provides pertinent information regarding Zack's past and exactly how he became a wealthy palm tree farmer, there is no need to read the series in order, although they do get progressively better. That says a lot, considering the books were good from the very beginning.

Edward Irvin lives and writes in Boynton Beach.

Silencer by James W. Hall

(Minotaur Books, Hardcover, 288 pp., $24.99)

Reviewed by Edward Irvin

          When James W. Hall's austere protagonist Thorn tries his hand at philanthopy he unknowingly enlists himself in a dangerous game of greed and family betrayal in the author's newest thriller, Silencer.  Set mostly on the Coquina Ranch, a hunting lodge in the rural sprawl of central Florida that has been owned by the Hammond family for generations, Silencer is a classic whodunnit swimming with detestable villains and real heroes, all with authentic motivation.

The plot is set in motion during the 1930s when, not unlike today, men of prominence in society and government have the influence to send men to war in the name of personal gain.  In the present day, Hall's puppet masters plunge the Hammond family into a civil war that begins with the murder of Earl, the family patriarch, and threatens the lives of Thorn and his closest friends.  Meanwhile, Thorn finds himself imprisoned and at the mercy of a pair of killers-for-hire, brothers intent on blackmailing their way into the action.  Trapped in a sinkhole, a battered Thorn finds his geologic prison holds clues to the true motive behind the murderous plot.

Silencer isn't without its share of plot elements prerequisite to mystery fiction, though.  While unraveling Hall's finely woven plot, Thorn faces moral and ethical dilemmas that will be familiar to fans of the genre.  Also, there is the usual jurisdictional territoriality between local, state and federal law enforcement agencies, as well as the good cop/bad cop dichotomy.  Fortunately for the reader, Hall's mastery of his trade prevents any of these elements from appearing clichéd.

Silencer is my first taste of Mr. Hall and Thorn, but it won't be my last.  His grasp of the Florida landscape, from the Keys up to Miami and the rustic outskirts of Lake Okeechobee, paints a vivid picture even those who haven't lived in South Florida most of their lives can see.  Unlike many of today's recurring protagonists, constantly embroiled in danger yet impervious to harm, Thorn is tough yet vulnerable.  His experiences with the Faust brothers leave him beaten and in an "unspeakable gangbang of pain" and doing "the disjointed boogie-woogie of a drunk."  Such dialogue from Hall and his wisecracking-in-the-face-of-danger hero left me laughing yet on the edge of my seat.  I coldn't put this book down.  To my list of must-read Florida mystery writers that includes Corcoran, Dorsey, Hiassen and Standiford, I must now add Hall.

Edward Irvin lives and writes in Boynton Beach.

Double Exposure by Michael Lister

(Tyrus Books, Hardcover, 204 pp., $24.95)

Reviewed by Edward Irvin

          Sitting down to read Michael Lister's Double Exposure, which recently received the Florida Book Awards Bronze Medal for General Fiction, I expected a crime novel so well written it bridges the gap between popular fiction, where crime novels are usually categorized, and literary fiction. What I got was a fantastically penned work of literature that happens to focus on crime.

The story centers on Remington James, who returns to North Florida to take over the family business, a gun and pawn shop, following the death of his father. Photography, once a hobby he pursued purely for the love of capturing nature's beauty, is now only an afterthought for Remington, an ad agency executive. His choice of career over vocation has led to resentment and depression that have caused his wife, Heather, to separate from him.

Back at home in the woods that make up a majority of his family's property, Remington's love for photographing all things natural is rekindled, thanks in part to his reunion with his dying mother, Remington's original muse. The isolation also causes him to reevaluate his relationship with Heather. Hoping to capture an image of a Florida panther, an endangered species the locals claim does not inhabit the Apalachicola River Basin, Remington sets up motion-activated cameras near ponds and other spots where the predatory cats might stop for water. Unfortunately, his camera instead captures images of a murder in horrifying frame by frame detail.

Remington soon becomes the prey of the sadistic killer and his team of hunters, who seem all too familiar with the surrounding swamplands, as they track him, trying to surround and smother him as they would wild game. Unsure whether to head to the river that flows through the woods and follow its banks to possible freedom or to circle back to his truck, risking a face-to-face encounter with the hunter determined to prevent him from ever leaving the woods, Remington must hone his survival instincts if he is to reach his goals of mending his damaged relationship and returning to his mother's side before it's too late.

Lister's style of prose is poetic. His repeated use of alliteration evokes the tension that James is experiencing as he tries to elude the hunters' dogs:

Barks. Bays. Yelps. Howls.

Closer now. Much.

The pawn shop had been a supporter of the sheriff's K-9 unit since its existence, and Remington had watched several tactical tracking exercises over the years. He pictures what is taking place not far behind him.

Big black snouts on the ground.

Ears and jowls flapping, drool dangling.

Nearly a yard tall, weight of an adult woman.

Running.

Remington's scent.

Relentless.

Or as he faces imminent death as bullets fly all around him:

Rounds continue to ricochet around him, but he doesn't move. He can't.

Numb.

Despondent.

Lost.

He can't think, can't move, can't—what?

Death.

Despair.

Distance.

The writing is so dramatic that it comes as no surprise that one of Lister's colleagues at Gulf Coast Community College, where Lister teaches classes in religion and writing, adapted Double Exposure into a play.

This book is a work of art and well deserving of its award. As far as its classification goes, it could be called literature, general fiction, even crime fiction. At a scant 204 pages, it could also be considered prose poetry. Whatever you call it, Double Exposure is a great read.

Edward Irvin lives and writes in Boynton Beach.

Wyatt's Revenge by H. Terrell Griffin

(Ocenview Publishing, Hardcover, 242 pp., $24.95)

Reviewed by Edward Irvin

          If Wyatt's Revenge, H. Terrell Griffin's newest Matt Royal mystery, were made into a movie it would likely go straight to video or end up on USA or Spike TV.  It would probably star Steven Seagal or a Baldwin brother; not Alec, probably Adam.  The actors would over-emote, the special effects would be low-budget, and there would be noticeable editing gaffes.  Those are all good things.

Check your need for plausibiity at the door, get comfortable, and settle into 242 pages of non-stop action, inexplicable character changes and cheesy one-liners, all in the name of unadulterated literary bliss.  I enjoy a good revenge flick, consistency be damned.  If the story features a father, husband or friend chasing justice with a .45-caliber handgun and an endless supply of bullets, leaving behind a body count reminiscent of the Texas penal system, I'm in.  Wyatt's Revenge is such a story.  I was hooked from the beginning.

The book follows Griffin's likeable Matt Royal, who repeatedly puts himself and those around him in harm's way while pursuing those responsible for the brutal murder of his friend, Laurence Wyatt.  Conveniently, each of Royal's friends is a sheriff, a part-time hacker, a flight attendant who happens to know a trilingual expert on France's Vichy regime, a military general with access to guarded documents, or a covert operative with contacts in high places and immediate access to cash, an endless supply of fake identities, untraceable weapons, and fully-fueled jets on standby.

Aside from his uber-convenient friends, the only issue with this book are some character inconsistencies.  After he kills the trigger man who shot his friend, it only takes a paragraph for Royal, a former defense attorney who admittedly defended the guilty, to get past his crisis of conscience and seek restitution from the powerful men responsible for his friend's death:

"Still, I was surprised that I had it in me to kill in cold blood.  And that's pretty much what I'd done.  If I hadn't been so intent on revenge, I wouldn't have gone to that apartment and put Rupert in my gun sights.  But the bastards who took Wyatt's life did not deserve to live.  Maybe it wasn't in my province to make that decision, but I had made it, and I would carry out the punishment.  When it was over, if I survived, I'd deal with the part of me that I didn't like, that didn't fit with my perceptions of myself.  I hoped the killing was over, that I could make a case that would interest the prosecutor.  But if not, I would do what I had to do.  Maybe."

The dialogue between Matt and Jessica, his budding love interest, teeters on the edge of daytime television quality at points:

"Are you cold?" I asked.

"No, I'm scared.  No, not scared, nervous.  Maybe.  I don't know what I am.  I almost died today, and I saw a man killed.  I've never seen anyone die before."

"It's okay.  You're having a reaction to terrifying events.  It happens to us all."

"I want you, Matt.  Does that make me a slut?"

After seeing a man killed for the first time, Jessica quickly turns from whimpering maiden—"Jessica hadn't moved in the seconds since the shooting.  She was frozen, rooted to her seat on the sofa, her hands grasping her face.  'My God,' she said, finally, 'My God, Jock.'" —to bloodthirsty seeker of vengeance:  "Jessica exploded.  'Bullshit.  I'm part of this.  Those bastards tried to take me out, and I'm not going to sit around like a good little girl while you big hairy men do all the heavy lifting.  I know how to handle a gun.  My dad made sure of that.  I'm going with you.'"

 As Royal and his well-connected modern-day lynch mob continue to piece together the mystery, they find themselves unwilling participants in an international conspiracy dating to World War II, a conspiracy that includes Nazis, terrorists, and America's wealthiest and most powerful.

This book was fun to read.  Sure, there are holes.  Royal's friends within law enforcement never seem to question the fact that men who Royal has been asking about seem to turn up dead within days of his queries.  For a man who seems to have been on the right side of the law for most of his life, Royal associates with a lot of people who break the law, such as the bartender/computer hacker who helps him decode Wyatt's hard drive.

Despite the few holes and inexplicable shifts in Royal and Jessica, the mystery is solid.  The action is fast-paced and the resolution is swift and closed-ended.  This was a popcorn flick on paper, and I enjoyed it, even if doing so required me to turn off my brain.

Edward Irvin lives and writes in Boynton Beach.