I was prepared to remind you that besides being a criminal defense lawyer for the past fifteen years, Dylan was also a guest blogger here at Murderati, AND he writes an absolutely terrific legal thriller series – MISDEMEANOR MAN – which won Mystery Ink’s 2004 Gumshoe for best debut, and the second in the series – I RIGHT THE WRONGS, was a Booksense selection.  Oh, so was MISDEMEANOR MAN.  And then I was going to tell you that his next book, LIFE, DEATH & BIALYS: A FATHER/SON BAKING STORY (which made me laugh, smile and cry all at once) came out September 6th.  And…ta da…is a Barnes & Nobel Discover pick.

Anyway, God help me, I still don’t know why I asked Dylan for some additional info, but I did.  I mean, I know him, okay?  He’s a pal.  I know that a mischievous monkey resides in his cranium-so I shoulda been warned. Fasten your seat belts – here’s what he sent me:

Dylan Schaffer was born Hilda Nihelitheg in 1912.  During WWII she served as a factotum to the Emperor of Jerusalem.  Ms. Nihelitheg disappeared from the political scene until 1974 when, having shed his female skin, he took a position as Gerald Ford’s manicurist.  After careers in journalism, plumbing, and phlebotomy, Mr. Schaffer settled into the final chapter of his life as a writer.  His comic legal thrillers, MISDEMEANOR MAN and I WRITE THE WRONGS were both well received in the Japanese religious community.  The well known celebrity chef Mario Batali called Schaffer’s new memoir, LIFE, DEATH & BIALYS: A FATHER/SON BAKING STORY,  "a book."

See what I mean?  But, not to worry, it gets better.  Well, sort of.  But be warned – 

EE: Somewhere in the night, Dylan, or at what point in your career, did you find it necessary to stop after each chapter draft to go outside and stare at the moon?  I mean, to know you is to love you, but what?

DS:  Elaine, Elaine.  You’re amazing.  I haven’t thought of that weekend in New England in years.  It was fall, Saturday, 1970.  I was taking a few days away from my job trading zero coupon bonds on the Street.  My pockets were full, but my heart was empty.  I parked in a shuttered seaside town. The fog slithered over me, its chilly fingers sneaking behind my collar and up my pants legs.  I ducked into a dive, Avenue C.  The barmaid was called Mandy.  She looked like Terri Hatcher, only blond and tall, with Streisand’s nose and a chest that would have hooked Johnny Depp.  She fed me near beers and laughed at my jokes about Jewish cannibals and David Hasselhoff.  By the time her shift ended I swear I couldn’t smile without her.  It could have been magic. But around daybreak, during some romantic gymnastics, I tripped and spent the next six hours in the emergency room trying to get the feeling back in my left foot.  Mandy said she was going out to find some Chuckles.  I never saw her again.  To this day I’m running too hard, chasing that feeling, saying these words, "Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there."

Gosh, is that all it took?  Uh, Dylan? Don’t turn around. There’s a duck chasing you yelling, ‘AFLACK!

EE:  Please don’t be scared, or take offense, but I’ve got to ask this next question.  You do thoroughly scrub your hands before making those famous cookies you give out at book signings, don’t you?  I promise not to turn you into the Cookie Police if you just rinse them, but I’ve been asked to ask you.

DS:  Thanks for asking.  You’d be surprised how many people don’t know what a bialy is.  I suppose you can’t really blame them.  I sometimes think that bagels are the insecure bread, couldn’t tolerate sharing the Jewish breakfast food arena.  I suppose we have Noah to thank for that.  You don’t see that dude pushing bialys on bus stop advertisements, do you?  Anyway, I suppose by now it’s pretty obvious that bialys are like bagels – round, baked, made with flour, good for spreading cream cheese.  But unlike bagels, they don’t require boiling to taste good.  If you ask me, only narcissistic bread feels the need to sit in a hot tub before baking. A hot oven is good enough for bialys, and bialys are good enough for me.  There’s a good bialys recipe (http://bialybook.com/bialy_recipe.htm) on my site.

Where’s my Advil?  Never mind, where’s my Jack Daniels??

EE:  Could it be magic, or can you really complete a first draft in two weeks?

DS:  Magic.  Please.  Magic?  I don’t think so.  I’m not trying to embarrass you, but magic?  If someone’s magic, it’s you, Elaine.  Your books?  Incredible.  The awards?  Deserved, deserved, deserved.  I remember watching you eat your Kung Pao shrimp in Chicago last year and thinking to myself, "Magic.  There’s really no other appropriate word."  Listen, if I’m Magic – and I have my moments, sure – well, you’re triple super-duper magic.  Seriously.

You’re a darling to say such wonderful things about me, but lean closer and I’ll let you in on my secret.  No, closer.  That’s it…a few more inches.  Okay, just between us, right?   I cast a spell, and it worked.  I have all these dolls, see, and at midnight at every new moon, I…well, I’ll have to show you.  It wouldn’t have happened otherwise.  I mean, a gal’s gotta do what she can, right?  So I used magic.  They don’t call me Evil E for nuttin’.

ALEX KAVA  http://www.alexkava.com

Six blockbuster books – over three million books and published in twenty-two countries – could it happen to a nicer gal?   If you don’t believe me – just pick up Alex’s newest – A NECESSARY EVIL and when you can’t turn off the lights when you go to bed – just don’t blame it on me.

EE:  Other than writing those mega-best sellers, which talent would you most like to have?  Don’t tell us you’re still hoping to go on the poker tour either, okay?

AK:  Scorpion killer!  I actually tried it at this year’s ThrillerFest.  (Seriously, I found one in my cottage.) But I was told squeezing a scorpion between a Kleenex with your bare fingers is NOT the way it’s done.  In my defense, it was the closest weapon I had available at the time.

You could have shown the scorpion the cover of your new book – it would have keeled over with fright!

EE:  My new spy hit me with a real juicy tidbit.  He swears up and down he saw you and Tess Gerritsen in a huddle with Dominick Dunne at ThrillerFest.  So…what was that all about, hmmm?

AK:  For those who might not know, Tess did an autopsy at this year’s ThrillerFest.  Now just think on those same lines for next year but add Dominick to the mix…well, I hate to spoil the surprise.  As a hint I’ll tell you that Tess needed to use some of my research I did for SPLIT SECOND on putting body parts in take-out containers.  Which by the way, a few weeks ago when the New York Times reviewed the ITW anthology, Thriller – that was my short story’s "Pie Topped With Spleen" that made it into the headline.  I couldn’t have been prouder.

Oh.

I gotta tell you, it’s been a day with this bunch.  A doc who likes to do autopsies in public, a vet who is a master of disguise, a leggy blond who stands up Jude Law, a scorpion killer who can show you how to put body parts in take-out containers and a nut case lawyer/baker who thinks he’s Barry Manilow.  They think they’ve thrown me off, but I’ve got news for them – I’m on to their tricks.  See, I’m an expert face reader – I can tell when perp’s are trying to give me the bum’s rush.  Hey, I’ve been around the block a few times.  Okay, so I’m direction challenged, but I eventually get to where I gotta be.  And let me tell you, they know I’ve been there when I get there.  Never mind – you hadda be there to get that one.  My list is narrowing down – two more sessions and I’ll know who dunit.

So, until next Wednesday – stay safe out there people, okay?