HANK PHILLIPPI
RYAN: Did you see the 60 Minutes story on the Maryland Cup? And the crazy devoted talented brilliant riders who gallop four miles over fencers and water hazards and who knows what else at breakneck (oops) speeds on gorgeous horses?
Yeah, the fabulous Sasscer Hill does stuff like
that, and I cannot wait to talk to her about it at Malice.
She’s
got a brand new mystery set in horse racing world, FLAMINGO ROAD, just brand
new from St. Martin’s. And, dear Reds, Sasscer is about to see that the course
of a book tour is almost as hazardous as a cross country steeplechase. In fact,
it may be exactly the same thing.
By Sasscer Hill
It’s a cold March afternoon and pouring as my plane skids to
a halt on LaGuardia’s runway. I have arrived for the first book signing for
Flamingo Road, three weeks prior to its April 18 pub date.
I rush to the baggage area, relieved to see my bag circling
toward me. It has the outfit for my event at the posh ladies’ club in Manhattan
where I have miraculously landed this gig. I manhandle the bag off the
carousel, grab the handle, extend it, and begin marching. Except, the bag is
immobile on the floor, and I am holding an unattached handle in my hand.
Have I just said the F word? Was it loud enough to be heard?
If you’ve ever suffered an experience like this, did a four-letter word escape
your lips?
This won’t do, I admonish myself, remembering the perfect,
hand-written letter I received from the club announcing cell phones may not be
used inside, and absolutely no photos may be taken, ever. It advised that I
must not reveal the name of the club when mentioning the event on social media.
A whole new meaning for “private” club.
I arrive at my sister’s apartment a little wet and looking
like I’ve just gone ten rounds with my suitcase. The next day, as we arrive at
the club, it’s still raining. I remove my rubber boots and slip on my suede
Sacha London three-inch pumps. Fortified with fashion and makeup, I meet the
ladies. I have never seen so many Gucci shoes and Chanel Suits outside the
September issue of Vogue.
The ladies are charming, educated, and talk of their latest
travels and the jewelry they bought in South America the previous month. We are
having English tea and beautifully arranged pastries. I tell the head lady that
I would kill for a Diet Coke and she rustles one up. Soon I’m at the podium to
speak.
I go inside myself, focusing like I used to do when I’d ride
in a steeplechase race. I meet my fences––which today are bullet points on a
sheet of paper––and I don’t falter. Women are leaning forward, listening to
every word, no one is whispering, there is perfect silence, and I know I’m
winning. At the book signing, I sell out.
Have any of you experienced a recalcitrant suitcase, or
wealth intimidation? How do you find your inner strength?
HANK: Heck with inner strength. I want to hear about a club that is so private you can't even talk about it.
But WHY does something always go wrong in situations like that? At the worst possible time? How does it know?
At least we can't get last-second runs in our stockings anymore!
Sasscer, you are fabulous!
Author Sasscer Hill was
involved in horse racing as an amateur jockey and racehorse breeder for most of
her life. She sets her novels against a background of big money, gambling, and
horse racing, and her mystery and suspense thrillers have received multiple
award nominations.
Sasscer provided the Kirkus Review, which, she says,
provides the most accurate synopsis of Flamingo Road that’s been written.
“The
dark and dirty underbelly of horse racing is exposed when a Baltimore cop goes
to visit relatives in Florida. Internal Affairs has been very interested in Fia
McKee ever since she shot and killed the man who was choking Shyra Darnell, a
hot walker at Pimlico who's so afraid of someone that she refuses to answer any
questions.
When Fia's beloved father, a racehorse trainer, was murdered five
years earlier, Fia joined the police and has never given up on his case, which
has now turned very cold. Put on leave, she answers a call for help from her
brother, Patrick, whose wife has walked out and left him with a horse-crazy
teen. Someone's been slaughtering people's horses for meat, and when Cody, her
niece Jilly's gelding, becomes a victim, Fia gets mad and plots to get even.
The night of the gelding's death, she meets a man named Zanin who runs the
Protect the Animals League and is trying to stop the carnage. Zanin is sure the
guilty party is a Cuban-American who lives in the dangerous and lawless area
known as the C-Nine Basin, but no one's been able to prove that he's involved.
Meantime,
Fia learns that her problems back home may go away if she agrees to
go undercover for the Thoroughbred Racing Protective Bureau at Florida's
Gulfstream Park, where horses that shouldn't be winning are suddenly showing
amazing talent. Fia eases into a job as an exercise rider for an honest trainer
while trying to discover what new, so far undetectable, drug is turning ordinary
horses into superstars. Hill boasts knowledge of horses and the very real
problems in horse racing that fill this sound mystery with thrills and
hair-raising action from first to last.”—Kirkus
