HANK
PHILLIPPI RYAN: Jane and Jake? I know and love. Well, I don’t know all about them--they always surprise
me, and I hope that continues. But one thing that always fascinates me, when
faced with blank pages that I know have to somehow turn into pages of words, is
whose story am I telling?
Yes,
it’s Jake’s journey, and Jane’s journey, but in every book they have to encounter
and connect with a world of mostly-new people. In my books you know you’re
going to get Jakes partner Paul DeLuca, and ME Kat Richardson, and the gruff
but effective Supe, Mona from downstairs, little Eli and his mom Neena who live
upstairs, Jake’s imperious mother, and Jane’s cat Coda.
But
to make a story, I have to find the new people. The new point of view characters
who will make each book unique and compelling.
My books have five points of view—Jane’s and Jake’s—and three more.
Three new people we have to care about, and wonder about, and try to decide whether
they are good guys or bad guys. And wonder if they will make it through the
book, right?
Their
stories twist and turn together, and that’s the dramatic irony, right? Because each
character only knows what they know—but you, the reader, knows all of it. And that’s what creates suspense, and
misperceptions, and mistakes, and danger.
I’ll
divulge this: as I begin each novel, I have
NO idea. What happens to them? Who’s
good or bad? Their motives. It always emerges as a big surprise. (Um, so far.)
In
TRUTH BE TOLD, (which comes out this fall and for which I JUST received arcs,
so keep reading) I introduce three new main characters.
Here’s how you’ll meet
one of them:
Chapter 4
Lizzie McDivitt typed
out her name, letter by letter, on her new computer. Trying it out. Elizabeth
McDivitt. Elizabeth Halloran McDivitt.
Elizabeth H. McDivitt. The admin types needed the wording of the nameplate on
her new office door, and she had to choose. First impression, all that.
Would her bank customers
be more comfortable with her as the crisp and competent Liz? Or the elegant and
experienced Elizabeth? Maybe this was the time to become Beth, the
friendly-but-competent Beth. The motherly Bess?
 |
| Possibly. Possibly. |
Lizzie, well, that was a
definite no. Lizzie was fine for her parents, and even for Aaron, but not here
at the bank. ‘Lizzie’ sounded like the new kid, eager to please. Semi-true, of
course, but not the image she needed. She needed…compassionate. Understanding.
Her clients would be the needy ones, the out-of-work ones, the down-and outers
who’d once had the assets to get a mortgage from A&A—but now had to
scramble for refinancing and loan modifications.
She clicked her plastic
ballpoint.
The bank had so much
money. Her new customers had so little.
Click. Click.
What would be the bad
thing, she wondered, about making it a little more fair?
Click. Click.
Aaron was still out for
lunch, she guessed. She thought of him, his curls, and that smile, and what
he’d actually said to her that first day back by the old vault. Their “tryst”
last night, that ended—way too late--with her finally saying “no” and cabbing
it home. She shook her head, remembering her girlfriends’ advice. You have to stop being so picky or you’ll be
alone forever. True, Aaron was more than cute. True, he had a good job. So,
okay, maybe. Even though he wasn’t exactly…
“Miss McDivitt? You
ready for your one-thirty? Mr. and Mrs. Iantosca are here.”
“Thanks, Stephanie,” she
said into the intercom. She punched up the Iantosca’s mortgage loan documents,
a series of spreadsheets, tiny-fonted agreements and the decisive flurry of
letters stored on the bank’s in-house software. The green numbers that were
entered several years ago had gone red last summer, then bold red in the fall,
then starting around the holidays, black-bordered bold red. By now, mid-May,
Christian and Colleen Iantosca were underwater and in trouble.
So they thought.
She took off her
black-rimmed glasses, considered, put them on again. Slicked her hair back, tucking a stray wisp
into place. She checked her reflection on the computer monitor. Lipstick, fine.
Portrait of a happy magna cum laude MBA.
Good job, her own apartment, a potential boyfriend—she clasped her hands
under her chin, thanking the universe and embracing her karma. Math geek no more. Future so bright, she
ought to wear shades.
Liz, she decided. Compassionate, but knowledgeable.
Approachable. And, starting today, starting now, Liz McDivitt was in control.
Here’s another:
 |
| MAYBE he looks like this?? |
Aaron Gianelli waited on
the front steps of the triple-decker, peeled the last of the waxed paper from
his tuna melt wrap, took a final bite. A mayo-soaked glop narrowly missed his
new cordovan loafer, landed on the concrete beside him. Too damn hot for a tuna
melt, Aaron decided, too late, but this “meeting” was his only chance for
lunch. He crumpled the paper, aimed, and hit the already-brimming dumpster over
by the driveway.
His first score of the
day.
If the others didn’t
show up pretty damn soon, it’d be his only score. That, he could not afford. He wondered how
his partner was doing, at his meeting.
They’d talk later. Compare notes. Not that there were notes.
Standing, Aaron brushed the dust from his
ass. Squinted out at Pomander Street. No cars. Nothing. They’d agreed to meet
here 1:30. He checked his annoyingly silent cell phone. If they were going to
be late, they should have called. If they were jerking him around, they’d be
sorry. But no biggie. He’d find other
customers.
He’d parked his car down
the street, left his suit jacket inside, thank god. It was brutal out here.
He’d be a sweat machine when he got back to the office, but the AC would take
care of that before anyone noticed. And Lizzie would believe whatever he told
her. He smiled. He loved Lizzie.
He patted his pockets,
still smiling, feeling for the ring of keys. He’d go in without the clients,
check it out. House was empty, that was
certain. The bank had made sure of that.
Aaron was still smiling.
He loved the bank.
And here’s new character
number three.
Chapter 5
 |
| Sure, Christian Bale, why not? Ramona, what do you think? |
“Good afternoon,
gentlemen.” Peter Hardesty closed the interrogation room door behind him,
plonked his leather briefcase on the metal table, held out a hand. He’d already
heard the cops were calling this guy ‘The Confessor.’
Confessor or not, Gordon
Thorley was innocent till proven guilty. And, like so many others Peter had
represented, profoundly in need of counsel. In this place? Alone with a detective? A legal minefield.
“Gordon Thorley?”
“Who’re you?” Thorley
twisted in his folding chair, scooted it as far from Peter as the cinderblock
wall would let him, metal scraping against concrete. Thorley’s sallow skin stretched over sharp
cheekbones, weary eyes too big. Peter could almost hear the guy’s brain shift
gears. Surprise. Then fear. Then calculation. Thorley flickered a hard look at
Peter, jerking a yellowed thumb in his direction. Spoke to the detective. “He a
cop, too?”
“Holy sh—how’d you get
in here, Hardesty? Who called you? Mr. Thorley here hasn’t asked for a lawyer.”
Peter recognized the
plainclothes detective in the weary brown suit and ugly tie--Detective Branford
Sherrey. “Bing” Sherry. Veteran cop, beloved of the district attorney’s office,
and remarkable asshole. Now he looked like he’d been socked in his
shirt-straining gut. Sucks when the
system works, Peter thought. When you have to provide legal advice to a
nutcase who’s trying get himself a life sentence. Justice. What a concept.
Liz, Aaron and Peter. Faithful readers will know at least one of my point of
view characters sometimes doesn’t quite survive the entire book. How do I
decide who lives and who dies? How do I decide who is good and who is bad? I
will tell you, that’s the magic.
Because—if
I’m lucky--they tell me.
And
JUNGLE RED BREAKING NEWS—The Agatha-winning THE WRONG GIRL is now an Anthony
nominee! And huge hurrahs to Red Julia, whose THROUGH THE EVIL DAYS is also an
Anthony nom! YAY!
And oh, yes, that ARC of TRUTH BE TOLD! Let’s see…just guess which of the three
characters is still alive at the end of the book, and tell me in the comments.
I’ll pick a winner at random! (And I
won't say if you’re right—but it’ll be fun to see later!
(And
you’ll still buy the book, right? (Now available for pre-order!) No pressure, it’s just my career…..)
