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John Grisham sure knows how to write. His books are always of the “can’t put it down” variety.
This one is described as the “first in the Rogue Lawyer series.” It appears to be a series of one at this point, but I can see why this could be a series.
The “rogue lawyer” is Sebastian Rudd, a maverick defense attorney who specializes in defending the indefensible – often at the risk of angering the police and the community. His office has been firebombed and his life has been threatened. He works out of a converted van. His chauffeur / bodyguard / paralegal is a black ex-con appropriately named Partner. He has a bitchy lesbian ex-wife and a son that he sees infrequently. He loves mixed martial arts “cage fights” – and financially backs a young fighter.
Rudd has several clients in this one, including the fighter he is backing who is arrested for going beserk and killing the referee, in the cage. He also takes on the police department who kill a woman in a botched SWAT raid. And a scumbag guy who is probably a serial killer or at least a serial kidnapper. Oh – and a drug lord on death row.
It is a busy life.
Grisham writes this story in the first person, using short sentences and minimal dialog. It is almost like you are in Rudd’s head, thinking what he is thinking. It is a different style from his other books, but an effective one for telling the story of the rogue lawyer.
This is the 14th book in the series of Preston and Child books that feature, as the protagonist, Aloysius Pendergast, the rich FBI agent extraordinaire, and the sixth that I have read. This one immediately succedes White Fire. As with many of the other books in the series, he is assisted in his efforts by Vincent D’Agosta, an NYPD detective, friend and botanist Margo Green and his ward, Constance Greene. His bodyguard and chauffeur, Proctor, is injured in a car crash early on and does not figure prominently in the plot.
The plot. SPOILER ALERT: the events begin when the corpse of his estranged son, Alban, shows up on the doorstep of his Riverside Drive mansion. The rest of the book is a search for Alban’s killer and a motive for dumping him on Pendergast’s doorstep. It takes Aloysius to California and Brazil, but much of the action occurs in New York City – mostly at the Museum of Natural History and the Brooklyn Botanical Garden. The plot is, as with all of the Preston and Child plots, ridiculous. But the book is also great fun to read and it moves quickly.
I hoped that I could get Ooma to a WooSox game while we were in Worcester as I think that is one of the summer highlights of the city. But COVID intervened. I then expected to be accompanied by Ray and Kim, with an extra ticket to be disposed of. But Kim broke her foot a couple of days before the game. Down to Ray and me and *2* tickets to repurpose. Solution: invite old buddy Mike. And he had a neighbor who was interested. Problem solved.
We – Ray and I – planned to meet up with Mike and Joe at The Banner, a pub not far from Polar Park. But as Ray and I were walking to the pub I got a text message from Mike. He just realized that the game was for Thursday, not Friday as he thought. He could still make it but would be late.
The Banner was crowded so Ray and I moved down to the Smokestack Urban BBQ restaurant (since closed). We got a table and had a decent meal. We were unable to meet up with Mike and Joe before the game, but they did make it to the stadium in time for the first pitch.
One final fly in this ointment: I forgot that I had my Swiss army knife in my pocket. I knew it would be confiscated at the stadium, so I had to seek out a hiding place. I found an orange construction cone and dropped the knife under it. We then were able to enter the stadium without anything being confiscated.
The game turned out to be rather historic. Michael Wacha, a Red Sox pitcher who had been out for several months with an injury, made his first rehab start that night. He mowed down the opposition, going nearly 5 hitless innings while the WooSox built an 8-0 lead. Two other pitchers completed the game, also allowing no hits. My first ever no hitter! And the first no-hitter ever at Polar Park. Damn exciting. The final out was a diving catch of a line drive by the left fielder – a fitting end to a wonderful game, won by the WooSox 12-0. To say that the crowd went home happy would be an understatement.
A (faint) silver lining to a miserable day in 2 ERs was that I read the last 200 pages of this book.
This is the second of a series of books by Nesbo featuring Harry Hole, a Norwegian detective with a severe substance dependency problem. It is the first Nesbo book I have ever read and I was pretty favorably impressed. I will read more if they come my way.
In this book Hole is tapped to investigate, pretty much by himself and very much on the DL, the murder of the Norwegian ambassador to Thailand who was found with a knife in his back in a seedy Bankok brothel. This seemingly senseless murder takes Hole down (dare I say it?) a rabbithole of perversion and corruption. The plot has more than the usual number of twists and turns and the body count climbs as the story progresses. But the plot is plausible and the denouement is quite satisfying.
My one complaint is that Nesbo is fond of long, complex dialog where he fails to note who is saying what. I often had to go back to the start of the sequence and carefully re-read it to get a full understanding.
As mentioned previously, Ooma contracted, for the third time, COVID-19 sometime during our 4 days in VA. Two days ago she tested negative on a home test. Yesterday, because she was still feeling short of breath, she decided she would like an X-ray of her lungs, to see if she might have pneumonia. So at 10am we headed to UMASS Memorial Medical Center, University Canvas, to try to get an X-ray. She had tried to get an X-ray at an urgent care facility but they were totally unresponsive (how does “urgent” square with “unresponsive”?). After waiting nearly 6 hours, we left without the X-ray. On the way out we learned that one of the possible reasons for the delay was that Ooma had tested positive for COVID-19 during the intake screening, which meant that a portable X-ray machine would have to be used. No one told her that and no one told her to take any special precautions while waiting, which we found puzzling. Or maddening.
We went home, had dinner and a nap and, at 8pm, went to UMASS Memorial Hospital, the older UMASS facility in Worcester. This time, after a wait of “only” 3 hours, she got the desired X-ray. But it took another 2 hours to get the results which were, sadly, not terribly enlightening: she has COVID, her lungs are fine, she just needs to rest. No cause for her distressing shortness of breath.
After this frustrating and depressing day, her response was “this is the kind of medical care you get at one of the best hospitals in Massachusetts?” She thought she would have learned more in Florida.
I found it curious that I was asked to leave the waiting room at Memorial because I had been in contact with Ooma, who had tested positive (I waited in the car). No one asked me to leave the waiting room at University. This kind of inconsistent protocol simply highlights the fact that the medical profession, after two years of pandemic, still has no clear idea of how to deal with COVID-19 patients.
Frustrating. And a bit disturbing. And a miserable, unproductive day in Worcester.
The 8th trip north (TN8) is in the books, so it is time to do the wrapup.
By the numbers:
6 hops, 1,615 route miles (269 miles per hop).
13 nights (9 in hotels), $1,539 in hotel charges ($171 per night).
1,844 total driving miles, 56.4 gallons of gas (32.7 miles per gallon).
$227.78 in fuel costs ($4.04 per gallon).
The hotel costs were more than I originally budgeted – I was planning on $130 per night – but both New York City and Charleston were very expensive. I asked Ooma to find the hotels and she found places that were very nice. Much nicer than the rattraps that I might have booked.
The 32.7 mpg wasn’t bad but would have been higher but for the the driving tour of NYC and the horrendous exit from the city on Hop 6. Also, while $4.04 per gallon wasn’t bad at a time when regular gas was averaging about $4.30, I probably could have slipped in under $4 if I had stopped for the last refueling at Costco in Miford CT ($3.99 there), but I skipped that because of the heavy traffic.
Highlights:
My first visit with Jett’s boys and their families since her funeral. It was great to see them all again. And their warm welcome of Ooma made me love them all the more.
Sharing NYC and Charleston with Ooma, who had never been to either place. She loved both, as I knew she would.
St Marys GA, a beautiful little town.
Lowlights:
Ooma’s COVID illness (her third!). It changed our NYC plans and resulted in canceling planned visits with 2 old friends. I don’t like to see her sick any more than she likes being sick. Fortunately, I did not catch it. I am sure that my bout with COVID after July 4 was responsible for that. It would have been difficult keeping to our planned itinerary if I had been ill too. So while it spoiled a few things, we were still able to enjoy New York. And we made it to Worcester right on schedule. Strange as it sounds, I am grateful now that I caught COVID before the start of the TN8.
Devin’s boat breakdown. A lovely day in the water in VA was tainted by the failure of the boat to start after a lovely lunch. I am sure Devin was more upset than I was and the day was still very nice, but I hate when a brand new boat fails for no good reason.
The horrendous traffic leaving New York on Hop 6. I can’t recall having worse traffic in all of my previous travels.
Planned versus actual routes:
TN8 plannedTN8 actual
Pretty close. No major diversions. The stop in New Salem was added.
Now a month in Worcester. It will be busy but we won’t be living out of suitcases. The 8th trip south (TS8) will start just before Labor Day. I will give a preview of that in a couple of weeks.
250 miles via I-278, Hutchinson Parkway/Merritt Parkway, US 7, I-95, I-91, I-291, local streets to US 202 and MA 122 with a refueling stop and a stop in New Salem MA to introduce Ooma to Jett’s brother Ray and his wife Kim. Cumulative TN8 route miles: 1615. Cumulative car miles: 1844. Car miles since the end of Hop 5: 389. The extra car miles were due mostly to the Manhattan driving tour and the trip to the Staten Island ferry terminal.
We left the hotel at 11:15am and really thought we would get to our meet-and-greet stop in New Salem by 3:30pm. After all, we hadn’t encountered any significant traffic delays in our Thursday tour of Manhattan so why would it be any worse on a weekend? Well, I don’t know why it was so bad, but the first 70 miles of this hop were among the worst I have ever experienced, taking over 3 hours (average speed: 22 mph) and we didn’t reach New Salem until 5:15pm, nearly 2 hours later than we expected. Heavy, heavy traffic all through New York and into Connecticut. It didn’t lighten much at all until we got on I-91 heading into Hartford. Miserable.
The visit in New Salem was socially-distanced, so no hugging or kissing. Ooma was still feeling some lingering effects of COVID. When we left we still had a 70-minute journey to our final destination in Worcester – Ray and Kim’s house. We arrived at dusk and did as little as possible when we finally arrived – we will clean out the car and set up for 4 weeks in Worcester on Sunday. Ooma was exhausted and headed straight to bed.
Our original plan for our visit to New York City (a place that Ooma has never visited) called for 2 days touring Manhattan via the Big Red Bus hop-on, hop-off routes and one day driving to Wave Hill and Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty. But then, as mentioned previously, Ooma came down with COVID-19. For the THIRD time (does Guiness have a category for this?). She had a fever of 102 Tuesday morning and we left VA as quickly as possible. She was quite sick all day Tuesday and we quarantined in our Staten Island hotel room all day Wednesday. She felt a bit better Thursday and we took a driving tour of Manhattan. On Friday she was well on her way to recovery – no fever at all and only a few aches. She relapsed a bit late Friday but I trust that she will be much better Saturday.
First, let me tell you my impression of Staten Island (a place I have traveled through but never stayed in). I like it. It is more suburban than Queens, Brooklyn or the Bronx and more laid-back than other places within an hour of Manhattan, such as Jersey City, Westchester County or Greenwich CT. We are really amazed that a place like this exists just a 30-minute ferry ride from lower Manhattan. If I were to live in NYC (not likely) I think this is where I would look.
Inside Pizza D’Oro
We ate in our hotel room all four days. I picked up some Panera chicken noodle soup for Ooma Tuesday night (I had a sub), then we did takeout pizza from Pizza D’Oro on Wednesday. It got great reviews and was obviously a wildly popular place – I had to wait an hour for my pizza and they actually ran out of dough after making mine – but we thought it was only mediocre. Thursday night was 494 Chicken which Ooma really liked, but I thought it was overcooked and overpriced. Friday night was Chinese from Oriental Plaza. Again, good reviews but mediocre (or less) food. I got tempura as an appetizer and it was soggy. Never had soggy tempura before. Never want it again.
So I can’t say that Staten Island is a gourmet paradise.
NYC driving tour
One highlight of our stay was the driving tour of Manhattan. Google estimated the tour would take less than 3 hours but I thought it would be closer to 4. It was actually almost 5. But it was a (mostly) pleasant trip – as pleasant as driving in Manhattan gets. I was able to give Ooma a taste of the city and she liked it very much. It was over 80 miles of city driving, which will kill my overall TN8 mileage, I suppose, and God knows how much I racked up in bridge tolls – possibly as much as $50 – but it was worth it. It was great to get Ooma out of the medical ward for an afternoon and take her to a place she has never been.
The photos from this tour were taken by Ooma, from the car – mostly while in motion – and through the windshield, so they are fairly low-quality. But she got some very nice bridge shots.
George Washington BridgeWilliamsburg BridgeBrooklyn Bridge
She got a few nice shots of the city, too, but it is impossible to get shots of tall buildings from a car at street level.
Brownstones on 35th St
Washington Square
I had actually bought 2 2-day tickets for the Big Red Bus, at a cost of $160. I tried to get a refund but failed. Ooma, not to be deterred, took up the challenge and got the refund. She is a woman of many talents.
Manhattan from Staten Island
One of the Staten Island ferries
A second highlight was a visit to the Staten Island Ferry. We didn’t actually go aboard, but was saw the ferry and the waiting room and confirmed that the ferry is, indeed, free. If Ooma had been 100% healthy we would have gone to Manhattan, looked around a bit and returned, but in the interest of the public health we passed. We also confirmed that parking at the ferry for a day trip was shockingly inexpensive – $10 for 5 hours. That is like parking in Ft Myers. I really expected that it would cost $30 or more to park at the ferry.
The sad Snug Harbor Botanical Garden
I expected that a third highlight would be the Snug Harbor Botanical Garden. There is a wide variety of attractions at this location, including the Staten Island Museum and the Children’s Museum, but we only wanted to visit the botanical garden. Boy, were we disappointed! It looked like it had been abandoned. Overgrown, unkempt. It looked like it had been a lovely place 10 years ago, but it is a mess now. It reminded me of The Secret Garden before the kids found the key.
On Saturday we planned to stop by for lunch with Alice, my high school civics teacher, on our way to Massachusetts. But Ooma’s COVID test still showed positive (mine still showed negative), so we cancelled that stop.
Not quite the trip to New York City that we had planned.
Our hotel in Staten Island was the Fairfield Inn. Adequate but not spectacular. The breakfast was free, but not as good as at some of the other hotels. And no Keurig, which made getting morning coffee a bit more difficult. Our view was a CubeSmart storage building. The stuff of dreams, right?
318 miles via VA 294, I-95, I-495 (west of Washington DC), I-270, US 15, I-76, PA 72, PA 343, I-78, I-287 and NY 440. Cumulative TN8 hop miles: 1365. Total car miles: 1455. We drove about 50 miles around northern VA while staying with Devin and Mary.
This was not the hop I had planned. The plan was to depart at 10:30am, have lunch with Carl (my PCL2 buddy) on the way to New York and to take the quickest (and very expensive) route there, to arrive before 5pm. But Ooma woke at 7am with a 102 degree fever and a quick home test revealed that she had COVID. Not good news for anyone. So we decided to depart as quickly as possible, to minimize additional exposure to our hosts, skip lunch with Carl and head straight to New York to quarantine in the hotel. Because we had additional time, I decided to take the longer but cheaper and more leisurely route through PA. I also added a few miles on I-76 because Ooma was in need of a rest area and I thought I could find one there (I did). But after jumping up to I-78 (via PA 72 through Lebanon) we encountered a 15-minute delay where all traffic on I-78 was stopped for construction blasting. So not a great route. But we made it to the hotel on Staten Island and got Ooma quickly to bed.
Ooma and I stayed for 4 nights in Dumfries VA, guests of Jett’s son, Devin, and his family. It was a lovely respite from travel and would have been relaxing had they not arranged so many fun and interesting activities for us. We went out to dinner the night we arrived (Texas Roadhouse), with Devin’s twin brother, Joshua, and his fiancée, Cristina. The next day we went to Josh and Cristina’s house for a relaxing dip in the pool on a 98-degree day, followed by dinner at one of Devin and Mary’s neighbors, Nassar and Angela. They served up a sumptuous feast of Persian dishes. Yesterday we were treated to a boat trip to National Harbor and brunch at Redstone American Grill where I had some delicious appetizers and one of the best Bloody Marys ever. The day would have been better if the boat hadn’t failed (wouldn’t start) when we tried to leave – we had to take an Uber back to the cars and Devin had to retrieve the trailer, load the disabled (brand new) boat and take it back to the dealer. I wasn’t there, but I heard that he had a few choice words for the guy who sold him the boat.
Trying to re-start the boat
Devin and Mary hosted a cookout for 13 people on the second night. Once again, I ate more than I should have. I haven’t weighed myself since I left Florida and am afraid to do so now. If I gain even a pound a day I will be a whale by the time I get back to Florida. We topped off the evening with a rousing game of Scrabble – Zachary and me against Ooma. It was close, but the guys prevailed.
The third day was a “down day” – we washed our clothes, I got my butt whipped by Zachary in a video game and I spent much of the day doing genealogical work. In the evening we all went out to dinner at Firebird which, after we found a table where the roof wasn’t leaking, served up a fine meal. My treat, as partial repayment for the kindness of Jett’s boys and their families. We took some very nice photos after dinner.
