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October 30
Hardback
• Paperback
Flashfire
by Richard Stark
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Reviewed by Jeanne M. Jacobson
“A bright day in July, temperature in the low seventies, a moderate-sized
town...” The first indication that something’s up is the description of the
car as “forgettable.” Then the surgical gloves, the gasoline in the bourbon
bottle, the Zippo lighter, the toss through a convenience store window.
Calmness, precision, a schedule met to the minute--followed by the three other
guys bouncing merrily out of the bank--also right on schedule--with the black
plastic bags of money, big grins, yipping “Are we happy yet?” Parker’s not a
bubbly type, but the heist is over, and he’s had assurances about these
one-time colleagues--“They know how to count at the end of the day, you know
what I mean”--so the job is over except for dividing the loot and they’re not
going to stiff him, and he can be on his way.
Ross, his big smile aimed at the backs of the heads in front of him, said, “Boyd? Hal? Are we happy?” Melander twisted around again. “Sure, he said, and Carlson said, “Tell him.”
What was wrong here? His piece was inside his shirt, but this was a bad position to operate from. “Tell me what?” he said, thinking, Carlson would have to be taken out first. The driver.
But Ross wasn’t acting like he was a threat; none of them were. His smile still big, Ross said, “We had to know if we were gonna get along with you. And we had to know if you were gonna get along with us. But now we all think it’s okay, if you think it’s okay, So what I’m gonna do is tell you about the job.”
Wonderful! The whole book is wonderful. Breakneck pace, bang-up action, toughness to the max--and, fellow mystery lovers, do you realize what we’ve got here? We’ve got Strong Poison, hard-boiled.
He wanted devotion. I gave him that. I did, you know. But I couldn’t stand being made a fool of. I couldn’t stand being put on probation like an office-boy, to see if I was good enough to be condescended to. I quite thought he was honest when he said he didn’t believe in
marriage--and then it turned out it was a test, to see whether my devotion was abject enough. Well, it wasn’t. I didn’t like having matrimony offered as a bad-conduct prize.
Harriet Vane quarreled with her lover after he offered to marry her, and
left him, a position that most people, including the judge at her trial for
murder, found incomprehensible: “It would be natural for you to think that
this proposal of marriage takes away any suggestion that the prisoner had a
cause of grievance against Boyes. Anyone would say that, under the
circumstances, she could have no motive for wishing to murder this young man,
but rather the contrary. Still, there is the fact of the quarrel, and the
prisoner herself states that this honourable, though belated, proposal was
unwelcome to her.” (From Strong Poison, by Dorothy L. Sayers, 1930--Sayers’
sixth novel and fifth Lord Peter Wimsey mystery.)
Getting back to the case at hand, Ross and Carlson and Melander are also
making an honorable proposal, and they too are amazed at Parker’s response,
which is “deal me out.” Being honorable, they don’t kill him, and they give
him...“Ten percent,” Ross told him. “Just over two grand. When we’re done in
Palm, you’ll get the full amount, so this is like interest on the loan.” “I’m
not loaning you anything,” Parker said.
and denial.
Exit the three jolly robbers, and Parker begins to collect what he’ll
need before he meets them again. Borrowing a backhoe that’s temporarily
unattended, he takes an evening drive to A-Betta-Deala-GUNS, rams the backhoe
through the window, and scoops up a bucketful of stock. Cash is collected from
a series of less-than-willing folk:
“They’ll get you, you know.” “So don’t sweat it...It’s only money,
you’re insured, and they’ll get me. Let’s go.” And they go, and he goes, and
we go with him, to a maker of false identities, a thrilling chase and rescue
by members of the Christian Renewal Defense Force, and a rendezvous on Palm
Beach.
Certain people like to be dealt with straightforwardly, and you won’t
find a more straightforward criminal than Parker, a.k.a. Daniel Parmitt and
C.O. [Church of St.] Ignatius. Nor a better writer than Donald E. Westlake,
a.k.a. Richard Stark, who always comes up a winner. “I’ll always wonder,”
Farley said, “if I could have taken you.” “Look on the bright side,” Parker
told him. “This way, you have an always.”
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