D.A. Confidential

A balloon, all alone.

2013-05-21T14:30:00.002-05:00

On my ride out last week, the first call was a low priority, a request to deal with a balloon. Not a hot-air balloon, but a regular one. A popped one.

A resident had found it in a patch of scrub near his home. It wasn't the balloon itself that bothered him, more the powder spilling from it. Another unit got there before we did, a rookie, and this is the conversation that ensued between him and my officer, AJ:

AJ: What does it look like?
Charlie: Errr, a balloon.
AJ: No, fool, the powder. Is it black?
Charlie: No, it's white.
AJ: So if it's heroin, it's China White. Balloons and heroin go together, but it maybe cocaine. How close are you?
Charlie: Standing right over it. Why?
AJ: It could also be anthrax.
Charlie: Holy s*#@, really?
AJ: Nah, just messing with you.

Turns out it was none of those things. Just some flour some kid (probably) had put in a balloon to throw at one of his buddies. I guess you'd call it a false alarm, of sorts, but I did suggest AJ taste the stuff just to be sure. He declined, and we went on our way.

Happy Launch Day!

2013-05-07T07:30:00.003-05:00

Today is a day I never dreamed I'd see, and I'm excited to announce the release of my second mystery novel, THE CRYPT THIEF.

The story...

It’s summer in Paris and two tourists have been murdered in Père Lachaise cemetery in front of Jim Morrison’s grave. The cemetery is locked down and put under surveillance, but the killer returns, flitting in and out like a ghost, and breaks into the crypt of a long-dead Moulin Rouge dancer. In a bizarre twist, he disappears under the cover of night with part of her skeleton.

One of the dead tourists is an American and the other is a woman linked to a suspected terrorist; so the US ambassador sends his best man and the embassy’s head of security—Hugo Marston—to help the French police with their investigation.

When the thief breaks into another crypt at a different cemetery, stealing bones from a second famed dancer, Hugo is stumped. How does this killer operate unseen? And why is he stealing the bones of once-famous can-can girls?

Hugo cracks the secrets of the graveyards but soon realizes that old bones aren’t all this killer wants. . . .

Praise for The Crypt Thief...

"The Hugo Marston series now belongs on every espionage fan’s watch list."
—Booklist

"Mark Pryor has created a perfect second book for Hugo Marston. It delivers everything we loved about The Bookseller without being a retread. The Crypt Thief is proof that both Hugo and Pryor should be around for some time."

—MysteryPeople

“Haunting imagery in Père La Chaise cemetery sets the stage for Pryor’s chilling sophomore entry, and the City of Light becomes a backdrop for Marston’s adventures. The clever antagonist leads him on a merry chase that will keep the reader entertained throughout."
—RT Book Reviews

"Two young lovers make the fatal mistake of sneaking into Paris’s Père Lachaise Cemetery the same night as a bone-stealing psychopath in Pryor’s propulsive second novel starring affable former FBI profiler Hugo Marston…. The engaging characters sweep readers into a suspenseful chase from Pigalle to the Pyrenées."
—Publishers Weekly

Pryor's second case for Marston (after The Bookseller) doesn't disappoint.
—Library Journal

Author Pryor uses this truly creepy scenario to create a nail-biter of a novel. It has enough bizarre twists to keep you reading into the night. The setting in the famous Paris cemetery gives the story just enough of a sense of the exotic to pull the reader in, and to anticipate something far different from a run of the mill mystery. “The Crypt Thief” leads us on the trail of a cold-blooded killer to a truly fiery conclusion.
—Suspense Magazine

Charlie Sector, cold and quiet

2013-05-04T10:25:00.000-05:00

It was quiet all night. A may evening when the cops in Charlie Sector and I should have been wearing short sleeves. Instead, the car's heater was on and the cold wind seemed to have swept people from the streets.

Even at 12th and Chicon, where the dealers and buyers meet for huddled sales conferences, where the girls looking for Johns hang off the sidewalk in the hope of business, even on this busiest of east Austin corners, all was quiet.

We set up in an alley and saw little more than trash cart-wheeling in front of us. One man, his head down, waved a gloved hand as he passed, perhaps mocking or perhaps in sympathy. We bided our time but finally moved to a stretch of MLK where Nick, my officer for the evening, promised we'd catch people blowing away the 35mph limit. But fifteen minutes with the laser-gun gave us nothing, even the traffic was slow and lumbering, not happy about being out in the cold.

Then, at 9pm, a hot shot call. A disturbance, violence, people at risk. Nick hit lights and sirens and I checked the map on his computer. We were on the wrong side of Charlie but what caught my attention was the mass of units heading to the call from every direction, electronic bugs swarming to only light in the dark, like nerds spotting a hot girl at a Star Trek convention.

The call was downgraded soon enough, so we peeled off hoping to find something somewhere else. The best we could manage was a trip to the A&E at St. Davids to get the name of a woman injured in a car crash. When we got there, she'd gone.

Nick apologized several times for the quiet night but it wasn't his fault. I told him that, said he'd done such a great job the criminals were scared to come out and play.

And, for the first time since I started riding out, I actually wondered, "Should we go get donuts?"

We didn't.

TGIM!

2013-04-22T16:29:00.001-05:00

Yep, you read that right - Thank God It's Monday.

I mean, seriously, last week was utterly insane (West explosion, Boston manhunt, DA DWI just for starters) so I, for one, am glad to move on to a fresh week.

Note, please, that all are topics of too great an import or too close to home for me to scribble about, hence the protracted silence.

In good news this weekend, Reese Witherspoon got arrested (kidding, kidding). I've always liked that name though, 'Witherspoon.' Think about etymology, did it come from a wizard who had it in for utensils?

Anyway, I wanted to say hello and spread some happy news (happy for me, that is) because I received a copy of the flyers they always send out for me to distribute. Somewhere. Have a look:

Yeah, you'll need to click on it to read it.

Not much crime news to report to you, my ride-outs have been quiet and my cases are still juvenile so I don't feel like I should share. The best I can come up with is something from England - a soccer player I like bit another player. Yes, you read that right, during a game he got mad and bit an opponent, and amazingly this isn't the first time he's done it.

You should see the choppers on him, in Texas those would be classified as deadly weapons. But it did make me think about the kicks and slaps, the pushes and trips players endure on the field that they'd never put up with in the real world. I mean, every Sunday I get a new set of bruises from my soccer games, and that's an over-40 league.

Biting though? Should that be a criminal charge? My first thought was, Grow up, dude.

A Man in a Can

2013-04-06T08:25:00.000-05:00

I've been quiet here for a while, partly because it happened again, and I didn't know what to say about it.

A prosecutor in Texas was murdered.

Again, I don't really know what to say and so don't plan to talk about it - for one thing, I don't know any more than has been reported in the media.

So let's move on, shall we?

On a recent ride-along I got to see a wonderful example of efficient law enforcement in action. Here's what happened: a driver allegedly caused an accident in which people in the other vehicle were injured. The law requires you to stop and render assistance in that case and failing to do so is a felony. In fact, we saw a high-profile case here in Austin relating to this kind of incident, only far more serious, if you recall.

Anyway, the chap who allegedly caused the accident decided not to stick around, and took off on foot. APD was called and their mission became to find him.

I was in the car with the shift Sargent who was calling some of the shots, but interestingly the patrol officers seemed to know what to do even before we got there: not charge into the crash scene but set up a perimeter. On the computer in Sarge's car, I could see the other units setting up on all egress points. Our man was fast and agile, supposedly hopping fences to get away, but with a police car on every street there wasn't much for him to do, nowhere for him to go.

So he hid.

Overheard, APD's chopper Air One buzzed the neighborhood. It was still light and there was a lot of foot and car traffic, but they had a secret weapon. Well, not secret really, just cool: heat-detecting visual aids. Over the air came the call:

"There's a trash can I'm seeing. Very hot. Never seen a trash can put out that much heat."

And just like that, it was over. One gentleman in custody, no one else hurt. Textbook, you might say, quick and efficient, with everyone doing their job. Very impressive to see first hand.

Three Graves Full

2013-03-23T10:34:00.000-05:00

Every now and again I will recommend a book to you, but very rarely will I do a full book review. Mostly that's because I'm short on time and this isn't a book-review blog.

Today is different.

The book is THREE GRAVES FULL by Jamie Mason. For ease of reading, I'll divide this review into three sections: (1) story summary, (2) my review (3) disclaimer (I know that's not normal, but read on and you'll see).

Before I begin, I'll let you know that this is one book that you can judge by its cover, which I just love.

Right, let's begin:

(1) Story summary (from Amazon):

There is very little peace for a man with a body buried in his backyard.

But it could always be worse. . . .

More than a year ago, mild-mannered Jason Getty killed a man he wished he’d never met. Then he planted the problem a little too close to home. But just as he’s learning to live with the undeniable reality of what he’s done, police unearth two bodies on his property—neither of which is the one Jason buried.

Jason races to stay ahead of the consequences of his crime, and while chaos reigns on his lawn, his sanity unravels, snagged on the agendas of a colorful cast of strangers. A jilted woman searches for her lost fiancé, a fringe dweller runs from a past that’s quickly gaining on him, and a couple of earnest local detectives piece clues together with the help of a volunteer police dog—all in the shadow of a dead man who had it coming. As the action unfolds, each character discovers that knowing more than one side of the story doesn't necessarily rule out a deadly margin of error.

(2) My review:

The story: I read a lot of crime fiction, and as you know I write it, too. Originality, true originality, is rare but we have it here. Once an author comes up with a unique premise like this, the reader is inevitably going to be hooked and I was. It's a clever double-hook, too, with Jason's body in the back yard and two unknown ones in the front--that's two mysteries that the reader wants to investigate.

Having hooked me, the plot continued to pull me along, not because the author throws in manufactured twists (which can be annoying) but because the story flowed like a river (one of those white-water, excitingly bubbly ones) and I couldn't help but find myself on the cusp of another disaster and desperate to know how it turned out. But also, the characters...

The characters: here's a challenge: write a story where the main character is a wimp. How do you hold the reader's interest when your central figure is kind of a passive, soft-spined, scaredy-cat? Well, you write this book. See, the other characters become extensions of him, moulding his mind and actions and pressing him into activities that create conflict, which is the essence of a good book. And those surrounding characters are themselves original, interesting, and real.

The other thing that happens, is that you as the reader start to donate spine to the main man. I felt anger on behalf of Jason as one of the characters bullied him, and Jason's flaws let me root for him when I wasn't directly identifying with him.

I reserve a special nod for one character, though, because Mason manages to pull off something that normally irritates me, something that will by itself make me put down a book and roll my eyes. See, there's a dog in the book, Tessa, a dog you come to love very much and Mason tells part of the story (a small part) from Tessa's point of view. Not only did she pull that off, but left me wishing more of the story came from Tessa's POV. (That said, it wouldn't have made sense to do so, I just love how she did it.)

The writing: I probably should have started with this, because the writing was perhaps the greatest pleasure for me. This book has been billed as a kind of Coen brothers movie in book form. I happen to think that's an apt description because this book has a literary flair that elevates it above others in the genre. I've seen reviews calling THREE GRAVES FULL literary and I concur. Paragraph after paragraph, page after page, I reveled in the beauty of the language. Mason has a way with words that, as a writer, delights you and makes you envious, and as a reader is beyond charming. Think of a book as a meal, with the plot as the recipe, the characters as the ingredients, and the writing as the process of combining those two and cooking. Mason is a master chef.

(3) The Disclaimer:

This is Jamie Mason:

I know Jamie Mason. I offered to read and review her book because she's a friend. Understand, though, that such an offer trails behind it an invisible but very real ripple of trepidation. What if I hate the book? What do I do and say then? Well, I'll tell you: what I don't do in that case is write a long, slobbering review raving about it. I only do that when I love the book, which as you can tell happens to be the case. Now, I haven't said this to Jamie, though I know she's felt the same as a writer and reviewer, but about nine sentences in I experienced a huge wave of relief (and in this case excitement) when it became clear that she could really write. And believe me, she can really, really write.

If you want to know more about her and her work, check out these links:

Her web site: http://www.jamie-mason.com/
Her blog: http://jamiemason.wordpress.com/
The writing site she co-run: http://authorscoop.com/
Her Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/JamieMason.writer

Covered.

2013-03-06T18:48:00.001-06:00

Did you know that I don't wear a bullet-proof vest when I ride out with the cops? Have I mentioned that? Well, it's true.

So what, right? It's not like I do anything dangerous out there, even though I've been riding shotgun in Charlie Sector for over a year now (I say "shotgun" because they don't let me drive and I know where the button is that releases the shotgun between the driver and passenger seats. No, I won't tell you which button it is).

Last week, , though, we had a warrant service on someone who had a felonious, but non-violent, criminal history. And (obviously) an active warrant for her arrest. We were pretty sure we knew where she lived and that she was home, but the concern was that she would look out the window when an officer knocked and simply not answer.

No door kicking-in, on this one.

So I piped up: "Hey guys, I'm in civvies, why not let me knock on the door? Use some of that English charm. Huh? Huh??"

See, I like action not paperwork. When my parents lived in Africa I visited and walked out onto mudflat to get photos of crocs and when a local got scared at the sight of a mammoth rock python, I poked a bush with a stick, looking for it. After all, I'd only seen the last eight feet of it disappearing into the shrub, I wanted to see the business end.

So knocking on a door? Pffft. Easy. And my officer (Charlie 501, who I've ridden with several times and who I now consider a friend) said, "Hey, cool, lemme ask Sarge."

At which point, I thought (but didn't say): "Lemme ask wife."

You see, what seems like a good idea at the time isn't always, and checking with a cooler head can be a decent idea. So he typed and I typed and seven seconds later we got our responses (and I swear, these are exact quotes):

Wife: "No."

Sarge: "Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo."

The two most important women in my life at that moment, they had me covered.

Charlie 501 and I laughed, and he knocked on the door instead. She was home, answered, and all was well. (I stood behind a tree, picturing my wife and Sarge nodding approvingly.)

Oh, since I'm on the subject of being covered, I just wanted to share the artwork for the Portuguese edition of The Bookseller that my agent sent me today. Love it.

The Red Shawl, a Dominatrix, and Me

2013-03-02T09:53:00.000-06:00

I know what you're thinking, but I'm not about to provide you with material to blackmail me. No, this is about an odd connection that sprang up out of the blue. Well, red.

See, this man emailed me. He's from Argentina but lives in Canada and he'd read The Bookseller and liked it. His name is Alex Waterhouse-Hayward and he's a photographer, writer, and artist. A seriously good photographer who's taken pics of all kinds of remarkable people.

And now some unremarkable ones (me).

See, Alex came to town and asked if, while he was here, I'd participate in a project he's working on. It involves wearing a red shawl his mother bought in Argentina fifty-plus years ago. Each person he photographs goes onto his blog and writes something to go with the picture (here's mine). He doesn't tell you how to wear the shawl, or what to write.

A burlesque dancer, poets, actresses, composers, even a "provocateur" have all gone before me. And yes, a dominatrix, too. I single her out for two reasons. First, I love the photo. Second, what she wrote to accompany it is genius; it's funny, concise, honest, and simply perfect. Check it out.

It's an honor to be on the Red Shawl roll call with all those high-falutin' achievers. But it's also just plain cool. That a guy I don't know read something I wrote and made a connection with me, and then through an old piece of cloth that means something to him, connects me to other people. That's been one of the wonders of being a writer, to be honest, hearing from total strangers who take the time to email me and let me know they liked my books.

It's true that I hear some nasty stuff, too, people seem to get very upset when then buy a book and don't like it. Check out the reviews on Amazon to see what I mean. But those are out-weighed by the good ones (there are more, fortunately, and those are the ones I reread!) and when people like Alex drop me a line and include me in their work, it's priceless.

Ah, you know who I should connect? The people who write mean things about my book and that dominatrix. She, quite clearly, is someone not to be trifled with.

Snow, skis, and a long drop

2013-02-20T15:27:00.002-06:00

Here's a conversation I had this weekend, fifty feet up in the air.

Me: "I can't believe this chair lift doesn't have a safety bar. I just cannot believe it."
Juan: "You're gripping a little tight. Scared?"
"Hell, yes. I'm scared of heights and here we are, fifty feet off the ground on a wooden bench in an arctic gale and an ice pack below us. And no bloody safety bar."
"First of all, it's a mild breeze. Second, it's snow beneath you."
"Yeah, fifty feet beneath me."
"Forty. At most."
"Whatever, man. This is 2013, they should have safety bars on chair lifts. On all of them."
"Fall off chairs a lot, do you?"

I don't, actually. But a fear of heights is not always logical. And guess what? I had a small boy, my favorite small boy in the world, next to me.

Think about that. An eight-year-old boy, whose thigh is maybe a foot long, which puts him twelve inches away from a drop that would do some serious damage. And it does get windy up there, it really does. So imagine how terrified I was, holding on for dear life and then having my son perched on the edge of the precipice next to me. I managed to wedge my ski poles in front of him but I can't think they'd really do much but slow any descent, maybe serve only to stab him on the way down.

Yeah, I know, tough life when your biggest problem is with the ski lifts at Park City, Utah.

But it did make me wonder, because you have to agree we live in a pretty litigious society these days. Being a former civil lawyer, I can attest to that, people sue for anything and everything. It's like a sport.

So tell me if I'm nuts, but I genuinely couldn't understand why so many lifts there didn't have safety bars. Ironically, the resort requires kids to wear helmets before they let them have ski lessons.

"Put on your helmet, boy, now go jump off a cliff. You'll be fine."

I suppose I'm wondering whether I'm overreacting because of my own fear of heights, or whether other people think that all lifts should have safety bars. I know the resort owners don't wanna, it costs money, and I just found a wonderfully disingenuous article in the Seattle Times on the subject.

The story is about a four-year-old boy who fell off a lift, and is titled,

Another child falls from Utah chair lift

Which I'm glad I didn't see before I left, for obvious reasons. Anyway, it starts this way:

"A young skier who fell from a Utah lift was riding a chair that had a safety bar, proving the device isn't fail-safe and may even have its drawbacks, ski resort executives said."

Which makes me an idiot, right? Yes, until you read on a little bit: "The boy was with a ski instructor and another young child near the top of the lift, getting ready to push off the chair when he slipped."

Which means the safety bar wasn't down. Duh.

If you're a skier, or if not, let me know if you have an opinion on this. I'll only add that, even if somehow safety bars aren't worth their weight, they make my experience so much more pleasurable. It's not fun to spend fifteen minutes thinking you and your wee laddie are about to go splat, it severely undermines the enjoyment of the ski experience. Believe it or not, for this reason alone I'd probably avoid going back to Park City. Is that silly?

I'll say one thing for the place, though, the pizza slices were as delicious as they were huge.

Your emergency is . . . what??

2013-02-10T12:40:00.002-06:00

When a police officer responds to a 911 call, often the first he knows of it - and all he knows of it, is the 'call text' that appears on his laptop. It tells him where to go and the reason for the call.

On Thursday evening, our first call popped up on screen:

"Can't take it any more. . . wife keeps yelling at me. . . no wpns, no intox. . . "

So. Sober and unarmed, a man called the police because his wife was yelling at him.

But off we go. Because, you know, he called 911 and things aren't always as they seem.

Turns out they've been married 30 years, which I wasn't expecting. Low income people, living in close quarters in a studio apartment on the east side of town. The officer separates them and we talk to the caller outside on the landing. Within seconds it's clear that what they need is a marriage counselor, but the cop is polite, respectful, and takes the time to talk about the man's problems, reminding him there's two sides to every story and maybe calling 911 when voices get raised isn't a permanent solution.

The other side becomes clear when we talk to the wife. She tells us that despite having been married that long, he won't let her have a key to the apartment. She tells us, too, that earlier that day she was at the unemployment office for an hour longer than he'd expected, which made him mad. He never hit her, ever, she says, but it's clear that he basically controls and monitors her every move.

All's well when we leave thirty minutes later, but nonetheless we leave shaking heads. We don't even talk about it, really, I mean what can you say?

Maybe you just look at the bright side: no one was drunk and there were no weapons involved. And thirty years married is pretty impressive these days, don't you think?

A Tragedy in Kaufman, A Shock For Us All

2013-02-01T09:17:00.003-06:00

By now, I expect you've read about the prosecutor gunned down as he was on his way to work. If not, read this. You'll know, too, that I don't often touch subjects that are fresh in the news or dwell on matters of great seriousness because this blog has always lived on the lighter side of life.

But I can't let this pass.

I didn't know Mark Hasse, though maybe our paths crossed at a conference somewhere. I'm shocked at his death nonetheless because by all accounts he was nothing but a white knight, looking out for the good people of Kaufman and putting away the bad guys. And I desperately hope that with the Texas Rangers, the FBI, and agents from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives on their trail, the bastards who shot Mark Hasse will be brought to justice.

There are prosecutors all over the country, I think, who will feel the reverberations of this crime and I was interested to read that it's already being talked about in the media: the fear that we all carry within us, the danger that is slight, never discussed, but lurks in the back of our minds. Could it be me?

In my short career as a prosecutor, not even five years, I've been in three situations where I felt threatened, where I looked over my shoulder every night for two weeks. Trust me, it's no way to live. Only once did I truly believe someone might be angry (and stupid) enough to retaliate but of course how can you ever know?

Erik Nielsen, a former ADA here and now a trainer of prosecutors, wrote on his Facebook page: "we routinely deal with very dangerous people; people whose thoughts on life and violence are skewed or completely severed." He said what I was thinking the moment I heard about this shooting: "Every prosecutor has this fear." HuffPo quoted him today with an article entitled just that.

This hits home for me not just because I am a prosecutor (because of one of those threats I mentioned, I am now a gun owner) but because I ride out most weeks with the cops. I see the guns and tasers they carry, the vests they wear, I know about the hand-to-hand training they receive. For sure, the dangers they face are tenfold, a hundredfold, what we are likely to encounter but thinking about this incident makes me realize how defenseless and unready we prosecutors are for naked aggression.

But as Erik said and as the people who shot Mark Hasse need to know: you can't stop justice with a bullet. You can scare the good people who prosecute cases and you can even kill us. But guess what? The moment you do that others will step into our shoes, and you will lose that fight because there are more of us than there are you, there are more good people than bad.

I am confident that the cowards who did this will be caught, but I am absolutely certain that the wheels of justice will continue to turn. And the bad guys who stand there with guns drawn trying to slow or stop the good guys like Mark Hasse will never, ever prevail.

RIP Mark Hasse.

Am I "big-nosed and mushy?" See for yourself!

2013-01-29T17:25:00.002-06:00

I've started watching this new show, The Following, with Kevin Bacon. It's about a serial killer (of course!) who uses literature as his guide and to lure followers to do his bidding. Edgar Allan Poe is his inspiration, no less. Cool idea.

Anyway, last night there was a scene where the bad guy, a writer, encounters an attractive older woman who was surprised at his looks. She says something like, "I thought all writers were big-nosed and mushy." It's James Purefoy, just so you know, a handsome devil if ever I saw one.

My first thought was, "Hey, lady, we're not all--" and then I thought, "Well, my sister used to call me 'big nose' and I'm way mushier than I used to be..."

But now you can answer that question yourself because I just had my first live TV interview, about AS SHE LAY SLEEPING.

It was a strange experience and I'm not sure I was at my best: no make-up, no warning what the questions would be, no meditation session beforehand. And yes, a couple of nerves; two, maybe three. Oh, I should add that I spent some time in the Green Room while waiting, a room painted white and red for some reason and no M&Ms or bottled water in sight. Maybe they break those out for the fancy guests.

Right, the interview. It was fun, and quick. Rather like. . . oh, never mind. (You've probably never arm-wrestled a gorilla.)

Here it is:

Release day: AS SHE LAY SLEEPING

2013-01-15T08:18:00.002-06:00

Today is a lot more low-key than when The Bookseller came out, but it marks the release of my second book and first work of non-fiction. The book is called AS SHE LAY SLEEPING, and details my experience prosecuting a 25-year-old murder case.

One of the reasons that it's more low-key is how I feel about the book. I want as many people to read it as possible, of course, but that's because I want people to see what it is we do here (why I started this blog, as you know) and what it's like to get so deeply involved in a case like this. So much of these big cases is about the families of those involved and it's no surprise to readers here that I became good friends with the son of the victim in this case, a musician my age who turned out to be one of the most fun, interesting, and truly good people that I've met.

And it's because of him that I've decided that should I ever see royalties on the book, they will go to HAAM, the organization that provides "access to affordable health care for Austin's low-income, uninsured working musicians, with a focus on prevention and wellness." *

The writing of this book was never about making money for me, it was about telling an incredible story, one that featured a lot of fascinating (and sometimes bizarre) people. I hated that the victim, Natalie Antonetti, might be forgotten once the trial was over and the media returned to more mundane news stories. And frankly, I want my kids to read the book one day and know in detail about the most grueling and compelling case of my career (so far!).

Before I forget, here's the cover (click on it to go to its Amazon page):

I've been asked several times, so in case you had the same questions I can say that I had no input whatsoever on: the cover, the sub-title, or the reference to being a "best-selling author." The latter surprised me, but it turns out to be true: I was on BookPeople's bestseller list for December and am a number one best-seller for one of the Amazon sub-categories of mystery.

If you read the book, let me know if you like it. Perhaps via my Facebook author page, which is here. If you don't like it, well, I guess you can let me know that, too. :)

Happy Tuesday!

*Readers often assume that once a book comes out, its author begins rolling around in piles of cash. Writers know that's not true. Therefore, any musicians reading this need to continue to take their vitamins, exercise regularly, refrain from mixing their illegal drugs, stop double-fisting tequila, and use baseball mitts to catch baseballs, not their teeth. Likewise, administrators and fund-raisers at HAAM should continue their fine work in lieu of relaxing by their above-ground pool and acting like musicians re: the above-named vices.
Additionally, should this book somehow make a boatload of dollars I will retract this pledge with the sole purpose of paying off my and my wife's school debt. If you thought musicians were poor, you should see the debt carried by public service lawyers these days. We're like the federal government, but with good intentions. Plus, musicians get to sleep in late.

Happy New Year!

2013-01-07T17:53:00.000-06:00

Granted, a few days late, but I was in Paris so you can't hold that against me. Or maybe you can, doubly.

Either way, I'm back and hoping everyone had a marvelous Christmas and New Year.

So, Paris. I was there to do research on Hugo Marston #3 (as yet untitled, despite what you may have read on my website!) and it was as inspirational a place as ever.

But. One thing that shocked me was the number of people there who still smoke. And not just the crusty old boys grumbling under their berets about "garcons these days." No, it was so many young people, lighting up and puffing away, people in their 20s and 30s who should know better. A friend who lives there now posited that the French have a "life's full of risks" attitude and that to them dying from smoking is a risk, not a certainty. On verra.

Anyway, moving on. The highlight for me was a tour of the U.S. Embassy. Can't go into details but I met a couple of splendid chaps who gave me the lowdown on the embassy itself, and also the Department of Diplomatic Security, where my man Hugo works. Utterly fascinating and the two gentlemen were very forthcoming. I will tell you that the interior of the embassy isn't nearly as grand as I'd imagined (and described in Hugo #1). As one of the chaps put it, it's a government office so looks like a government office. A few grand spots here and there but overall not the wood-floored, mahogany-paneled luxor you might think.

One important aspect to the visit: neither of my hosts laughed their arses off when I told them some of the things Hugo gets up to in the books.

Probably just being diplomatic. (Geddit?!)

I also paid a visit to Pere Lachaise, the wonderful cemetery where the likes of Jim Morrison and Oscar Wilde are buried. Here I am:

I have no idea whose crypt I'm posing next to, seems like I should.

In other news, THE BOOKSELLER seems to be hanging in there. Sales in Austin are good, anyway, as I made the December bestseller list (fiction, paperback) at BookPeople, number six as you can see here.

And the book made another bestseller list, over the holidays. I have no idea how remarkable (or not) it is but I hit the number one spot in the Amazon category for "booksellers and bookselling." Must be quite a few other books in that category, otherwise they wouldn't bother with a category at all, right? Right?? Here's a screen grab, check it out:

That's all for now, just wanted to wish you all the best for 2013. If it's as good as 2012, I for one will be very happy.

The Nutcracker (a true story)

2012-12-21T12:55:00.003-06:00

In continuation of a series of posts I have just started with this one, I bring you a true story. It happened not recently, nor too long ago. When it happened doesn't matter, actually, I post it today in honor of today's Ballet Austin performance of The Nutcracker.

You'll see why.

The allegation was assault on a peace officer, specifically that the defendant had grabbed "the victim's scrotum and twisted, thereby causing pain."

Now you see why.

Anyway, it went to trial before the judge. Two witnesses who saw her hands go into his crotch area, but not the actual "grab and twist" testified to his pained squeal and subsequent bending over while gasping for breath. Their testimony was utterly consistent with that of the officer himself who added the details about her grabbing this testicles and twisting. (I wanted to do a reenactment, but couldn't find any volunteers.)

Now, trial can be a battle of words. The whole practice of law, really. The defendant had no real response, no defense at all, I gather that she (yes she) just didn't want to plead guilty. And that left the defense lawyer with little to work with. Very little indeed.

But the chap in question (a good friend of mine, by the way) was brilliant. He pointed out that the charging instrument said "scrotum" while the officer had said "testicles." As a result, the pain had been to the latter and not the former.

Clever, eh?

I pointed out in my own closing that the pain did not have to refer to the specific body part, and even if it did "the court may take judicial notice that in accordance with the evidence at trial it would be impossible to squeeze one and not the other." For good measure, since we were in that region, so to speak, I remarked that defense counsel was "splitting hairs."

I did not look at the defendant during closing, but I can assure you everyone else in that courtroom had trouble keeping a straight face. Judge included.

It's can be a funny job, that we prosecutors have. In every sense of the word.

Gangs - what are they good for?

2012-12-12T12:37:00.000-06:00

Yes, of course, you got it: absolutely nothing.

It's something I see a lot here in the world of juvenile crime, sadly, gang activity. Sometimes it's peer pressure, sometimes it's family replacement, and sometimes it's even family pressure.

It's a pet peeve for some of the judges, too, because (as they point out), Look where gang affiliation has gotten you!

Something I always want to point out to the kids, in addition, is this: "Look around the courtroom. How many of your gang-banger buddies do you see here supporting you?"

Go ahead, dear reader, guess how many gang members we usually see supporting their troubled colleagues?

Got that one right, too, didn't you? Zero.

The long-suffering family will be there, most likely a sad and over-worked mother who can't compete with the fun-sounding friends, the lure of instant cash, and who can't fulfill the need for a male role model.

And the one visceral reminder of the permanent damage these gangs can do to a young kid is often, and quite literally, etched on the bodies of the misguided: tattoos depicting area- or zip-codes, or straight up naming their gang. Subtlety is not gifted to the young.

Good luck getting a job in ten years with "Representing the 05" or "Rolling Crips" stained on your skin. Or, honestly the truth, the face.

But chatting with a cop recently I solved a puzzle I'd been pondering for a while. You see, on my weekly ride-outs in east Austin I have seen (and had it pointed out to me) two dudes walking down the street in happy harmony -- one wearing blue (Crip) and one red (Blood). When I see this, I am tempted to roll down the window and mock them heartily for their gang fail (mock them from the safety of a patrol car, of course, I ain't stoopid).

This officer, who studies gangs, explained it to me and it's not the result of weak or nominal allegiance to their gangs, it's an economic issue. As he explained it, in places like LA the gangs are territory-focused, they fight for their little patches of land because that's what matters to them. But here in Austin, and some other places, territory matters less than money. The cop said that gangs around here have figured out that cooperating makes for better profits than fighting, and now there's even a saying: Blue and red make green.

Pretty interesting, don't you think?

The irony is, at least in my experience, gang members don't have much green. Sure, a nice pair of sneakers, some extra baggy jeans and the latest in self-lowering boxers ("While you sell a little crack to your customers, we'll show a lot of yours to the world!"). These are people who gets rides to court from their parents or take the bus to visit their probation officer. The retirement plan sucks, too.

Ah well, there's only so much I can do but it's good to know APD is following the trends and we have some pretty impressive gang-intervention programs running in schools (and beyond) so with any luck, in a few years at least, we'll be seeing a lot less crack on the streets of Austin.

Yes, both kinds.

More great Xmas presents (books, books, books!)

2012-12-06T08:39:00.000-06:00

I wanted to point out a few more great crime stories, and wonderful authors, for those looking to buy books for Christmas. This is fun for me because I have met these authors in person, but I've also been able to read what they've written, so I'm not recommending blindly.

Michael Robotham is an Australian author who, I'm ashamed to say, I'd never read until about two months ago. He did a book signing here in Austin and I picked up a couple of his novels, and got the chance to have a beer with him. One of those incredibly nice, down-to-earth people that if you met him under other circumstances, you'd never know that when he does a book signing in Germany, 700 people show up to meet him.

His most recent novel is SAY YOU'RE SORRY.

I was blown away by the story and elegant writing, I'm really excited to have found him. And so were a few other people...

David Baldacci: "He's the real deal and we can only hope he will write faster."

Val McDermid: "'Heart-stopping, heart-breaking, heart-wrenching."

Stephen King: "Exceptional suspense."

Linwood Barclay: "Robotham doesn't just make me scared for his characters, he makes my heart ache for them."

I know what you're thinking - on top of those endorsements, he gets Mark Pryor's too! Well yep, he sure does.

Okay, on to two new authors,young ladies I met at a conference who charmed me and impressed me with their energy, enthusiasm, and high talent:

Lisa Regan sees her book actually come out today, and I heard her talk about it at the conference. Called FINDING CLAIRE FLETCHER, it's the kind of book that, when you hear about it, your hair stands on end.

Here's her blog, but seriously, click on the link for her book and go read about it. (By the way, if you recognize her name it might be from here, she's been a loyal supporter and poster on D.A. Confidential since long before either of us were published, so that alone merits you checking her out).

Nancy Thompson has a novel featuring a Brit living in the U.S., the Russian mafia, kidnapping and murder. It's called THE MISTAKEN. Nancy is simply hilarious, a ton of fun and from what I've been told managed to get published the first time she tried. Trust me, that means she's good.

Here's her cover:

What's next? I predict a bestseller with this one, actually, and I'm going to talk about this book when it comes out in February, but I mention it here and now because you need to save a gift card or two to get your copies.

THREE GRAVES FULL is by the hugely talented first-time author Jamie Mason, someone I plan to get to blurb one my my upcoming novels.

How good is this book? Heck, just take a look at the awesome cover to know:

And check out who else likes it:

Racheting up suspense is one thing, and Mason manages it masterfully... But portraying characters so well and so thoroughly, examining and explaining their motives even for murder, requires a level of skill that is rare, marking this as an astonishingly accomplished debut and Mason as a writer to watch very closely."

—Booklist (starred review)

"Mason's quirky debut novel deftly weaves dark humor into a plot that’s as complicated as a jigsaw puzzle but more fun to put together.... a dandy of a first outing with not a single boring moment."

—Kirkus

"Three Graves Full is an astonishing debut novel, smart and stylish and wonderfully light on its feet. Jamie Mason writes crisp, surprising sentences, and this aura of wit infuses her lovely plot with an absolutely Hitchcockian menace. I think she was probably born to be a writer, and I eagerly look forward to whatever she will do next."

—Peter Straub, author of Ghost Story and The Talisman (with Stephen King)

“Three Graves Full is something special - an offbeat, high-class, pacey mystery that blends black humor with dark lyricism, and deft, intricate plotting with dead-on psychological insight. This is a gem of a debut.”

—Tana French, author of In the Woods

“Jamie Mason wields a pen that magically blends beautiful prose with unrelenting thrills. Each page delivers something new and fresh; in her hands, even the mundane becomes extraordinary. Grab a chair with a comfortable edge, because Mason will keep you poised there until the final page."

—Alex Adams, author of White Horse

Did you spot the name Tana-blooming-French? Oh, just my very favorite author in the world. Oh, and if you can't wait to get THREE GRAVES FULL, you can pre-order it now and lock in your copy. I wouldn't blame you at all, after all I have done just that myself.

Enjoy!

Ahhh, Christmas is nigh and here's what I'd like, please Santa.

2012-12-05T08:19:00.002-06:00

Only a few weeks away, simplest the most wonderful time of the year. My kids have been scribbling and rescribbling their lists for the jolly old man (whether that's yours truly or Santa, you may decide).

But what about me, what do I want for Christmas? Well, since you asked, here's the list:

1. Some cold weather, so I can light a fire of an evening. Winter's thrill is blunted when its chill doesn't appear. And those kids' Xmas lists? How the heck is Santa supposed to get them if we can't have the annual ceremonial burning in the fireplace?

2. World peace. Been asking for a few years now, I figure it's due.

3. Another year, a full one all the way through next Christmas, where my kids believe in Santa.

4. Glacier glasses. Oh, I could ask for a ski trip for me and my son (we've been pining for several years now) but I'm not greedy. I just want the glasses.

5. One of my cunning plans to work. Specifically, number 4., above. (Ssshhh, here's the plan: I act like I'm not greedy about demanding a ski trip and, thinking I'm being nice, Santa gives me glacier glasses. I show them to my wife and say, "Well, no point having these unless. . . " She nods wisely and says, "Very true, darling, I'll go book that ski trip.")

6. Another year, a full one all the way through next Christmas, where I myself have nagging doubts about the non-existence of Santa.

7. For people to stop saying there's a "War on Christmas." Seriously, stop it. Everyone knows the First Amendment is suspended for Christmas, and even non-believers like me are okay with that. Look, it's a day where we can wave merrily to our neighbors (not just the ones next door, the ones across the street whose names we should know but don't), where we can eat too much, drink too much, watch too much TV (and let our kids watch stuff they probably shouldn't) and where we can do all this to honor a baby. How cool is that? (And if you really do believe there's a war on Christmas, watch this right now and report back on your change of mind.)

8. Ski gloves. (Back up plan and reinforcement to numbers 4. and 5. above.

9. For Santa to skip requests 1. through 8., if he's busy.

10. Exactly what I had last year: a nice Christmas tree decorated by my wife and kids, a day full of hugs and a few presents, no school, no work, no one there but us and James Bond. Oh, and a Christmas meal of roasted duck (for me), a good bottle of port to share with my wife, and a lunch platter for the kids of their very favorite dish: roast beast. Seriously.

Well, how nice (again!)

2012-11-28T08:09:00.001-06:00

For the third year in a row, D.A. Confidential has been nominated by the American Bar Association's Journal as one of the best legal blogs in the country.

(One of a hundred, which actually sounds less impressive so I won't mention that bit.)

But look, I get a badge/label thingy:

Anyway, check what fellow blogger Jamison Koehler said about me (unbribed, for the record): “Mark Pryor of D.A. Confidential is like the Jerry Seinfeld or Jay Leno of the criminal law blogosphere: He can be funny, original, interesting and entertaining without using obscenity or going for the jugular."

Man, I wish I could use obscenity. Anyway, if you are inclined, and I do hate touting for votes, click here and vote for me -- you'll have to create an account, but it's quick and easy and I hear that it stops people cheating.

Which, obviously, is a shame. Those legal people think of everything.

Big feet and copycats

2012-11-26T18:01:00.002-06:00

Here's an example of the difference in maturity and (one hopes) thoughtfulness between adults and kids.

And yes, it has to do with feet. Big ones.

Imagine you're an adult, a slender and short one, maybe 5'4" and 140lbs. You're a stealer, a thief, a nicker of other people's stuff. And you loooove breaking into cars. One summer night as you're casing joints and sussing out stealing sites, you come across a truck and you gain access via your usual sophisticated method: the window and a rock.

You reach inside and help yourself to a few items, maybe some CDs, a phone charger, a jacket . . . and then your hands settle upon a pair of shoes. To be more precise, a pair of size fifteen sneakers. Yes, I said size fifteen.

Now, as a diminutive chap, two thoughts will likely go through your head:

1. "What the hell do I want with a pair of size fifteen sneakers?" (Granted, if you come from a family of clowns, this thought will not occur.)

2. "Wow, these shoes are big, I hope their owner isn't standing behind me. Maybe I should leave them and run away."

The second thought, I can assure you, did not occur to the young man in question. I know that because the victim of the theft reported his shoes stolen.

I suspect the first thought did, once he got home, and in my mind that would have been an amusing moment to witness.

And a nod to a copycat, the good people at Slate.com who have realized what I've known all along: a crime blog is fun. Actually, I expect good things from them, I do like their work.

Want a free copy of The Bookseller?

2012-11-12T10:30:00.004-06:00

One of the best reviews yet from the site Buried Under Books. I love the final paragraph the most:

To me, three things are most evident when an author is really good. First is strong characters, second is a plot that grabs me and won’t let go, and third is a mastery of the English language. Mark Pryor has it all in his first novel and I can’t wait for his next Hugo Marston mystery.

Not surprising I'd like that bit, eh? (And no, I didn't bribe anyone. . ., though I'm not saying I'm above that. . .)

Anyway, you can enter the drawing for a free copy of the book, just visit the site here and drop a comment about a great new book or author you've discovered recently. Yep, it's that easy.

And, come to think of it, I'm always up for hearing about new writers or books, so get to it!

Proof of insanity?

2012-11-09T10:04:00.001-06:00

Picture a man making these complaints:

his coffee is served cold
he does not have enough butter for his bread
he is not given moisturiser

A hotel, right? Probably not a good one, though, because these days there's almost always moisturiser in the bathroom.

Actually, no, it's not a hotel.

Another clue? Okay, his quarters are three rooms, one for sleeping, one for studying, one for exercising.

Ah, you got it - a college dorm! Fancy, too, right? Three living areas? Way posh. Shame about the lack of butter but hey, otherwise not too shabby.

Oh, wait.

Not a dorm.

Okay, the last clue comes from this gentleman's other complaints:

poor decorations and no view
his quarters are too cold, forcing him to wear three layers of clothes
he has to rush his morning shave and brushing of teeth
light and television switches are outside the quarters, so he has to ask for help to change channel or sleep

Am I allowed to use the word "douchebag" here? I suppose so, it being my blog. I'd use worse but who knows, some kid might wander by after googling the name of a man who murdered 77 people, most of them teenagers.

That's right, Norwegian mass-murderer Anders Behring Breivik isn't getting enough butter and he doesn't like the drapes. Full story from the BBC here.

So my question in the title refers to whom. . .

Is Brevik insane for writing a letter to complain of these privations?
Is the Norwegian government insane for putting him in such nice digs?
Or is the BBC insane for writing a story about a mass murderer who'd like more butter?

Of course, no reason why it can't be all three.

Jury duty for me!

2012-11-04T18:05:00.003-06:00

I have jury duty tomorrow! And it's at the federal courthouse, so there's an outside chance I will get to serve (if it's a civil case, rather than criminal).

It's been so long since I've been herded around like I'm a sheep, it'll be interesting. Of course, we'll see if it's like the state criminal courts, where there's a LOT of waiting around.

In case it is, I'll bring my book.

And yes, I'll let you know when it's all over what it's like.

Fingers crossed!

** Update **

Well, ridiculous optimism appears to contain no power. No go on the jury today, though an inside look at the way they do things in federal court was absolutely worthwhile.

The major difference appears to be that the judge conducts much of the voir dire, he gave the lawyers about 15 to 20 minutes each. Far more efficient. And while it took up all morning, I wouldn't say there was a whole lot of waiting about. Here's roughly how the morning went:

8 - 8:30: we're in the main jury room, not the courtroom, and get a welcome and powerpoint talk by the jury coordinator, telling about the Western District of Texas and a little about the process.

8:30 - 9: a video, snippets of Supreme Court justices and former jurors talking about the importance of jury duty.

9:30 - 10:30 - after a break, we go into the courtroom and Judge Yeakel gives us a thank you and introduction to the case and parties. He then asks the kinds of questions that, in State court, the lawyers ask. He is considerably less long-winded.

10:30 - 11- the lawyers have their turn, seem prepared and knows our names even.

11:30 - 11:45 - we take another break while the strikes are made and the jury settled upon, and this is done quickly and without fuss. We're done and dusted by lunch time.

I imagine the process was accelerated partly because there were just 26 of us in the panel - they were picking eight people for a civil trial.

One I would have loved to have jurored. Maybe next time?

Don't worry, I managed to cheer myself up with an offense report back at the office. Some kid had stolen a pair of sneakers from a man's car. A pair of size 16 sneakers.

Don't you pick those up and think, "Errr, yeah, I'm not stealing from this dude. If he catches me...."

Crimes, both real and imaginary

2012-10-26T13:19:00.000-05:00

I know, I know, it's about time I posted here, sorry. Things have been crazy with the post-release of The Bookseller, and the edits for the next two books due (and which I should be doing now, thanks very much).

But from the imaginary crimes of Paris, to a heinous one I experienced last night. Actually, two.

And, yes, you might argue that objectively they aren't as serious as murder or kidnapping, I suppose I'd go along with that but. . . well, here's what happened.

I was riding out with APD, as I do on a Thursday night, and we're in heavy but moving traffic. Alongside us roars a dude on a motorcycle, chugging up the hard shoulder to avoid traffic. You know, the kind of thing that makes your blood boil as you sit in your car and choke down the exhaust of the guy in front of you.

Except I'm in a police car now.

We put the lights on and off we go, bringing this terrorist to justice with a $160 ticket. The motorcyclist shaking his head in disgust, no doubt thinking "Don't you cops have anything better to do?"

In fact, the officer I was with laughed and acknowledged that people do think that but he explained to me about the guy who'd pulled over onto the hard shoulder last week, so he could safely have his heart attack somewhere he wouldn't be a danger and somewhere the police and ambulance could get to him.

"That's what the shoulder is for," he said. True that.

The second offense was even more cheeky. With another officer, later at night. Busy busy intersection, each direction having two lanes and a turn lane (I'd tell you which one, but I don't remember, sorry!). Woman on a bicycle rides up next to us, inches forward, and when she spots a gap in the traffic she tootles across the intersection to the other side.

If nothing else, I was amazed because it was dark and there were a lot of cars out there. My officer says, "No, she didn't just do that," and off we go.

This lady took her ticket with good grace, acknowledging how dangerous that maneuver had been. Afterwards, when I asked if he felt a little silly pulling over someone on a bike, the officer said, "No because I'd rather give her a ticket than scrape her body off the road." Again, true that.

And as both officers pointed out, by pulling over those cheeky scofflaws they made every single motorist within sight smile.

On an unrelated topic, I wanted to bring together the real and imaginary crimes of the world by pointing you to an article I wrote for the Huffington Post, it just appeared on their website.

It's about some crimes and mysteries around the world that, if they'd been written in a novel, would have made fiction readers shake their heads with disbelief. It's called: 8 True Crimes That Are Stranger Than Fiction

Oprah & Me!

2012-10-16T17:53:00.002-05:00

This deserves its own post :- Oprah.com gave me a rave review!

"a tale of a city that's gritty, utterly real and filled with surprises both horrifying and tender. Much like a baguette, this fabulous story is crusty on the outside, sweet on the inside, and once you've had a bit, you can't wait for more."

And who doesn't like baguettes?

Now, I've talked to people who are a little snooty when it comes to Oprah's Book Club and I'll say this: anything that gets people reading is fantastic in my book. And anything that gets people reading my book is doubly fantastic!

Also, look at some of the other names on that list of "Unputdownable Mysteries": Patricia Highsmith, Kate Atkinson, Stieg Larsson, and Ruth Rendell. Esteemed company, and damned fine writers.