MYSTERY AUTHOR LYNN-STEVEN JOHANSON'S DETECTIVE JOE ERICKSON COOKS UP SOME RAGU TO KILL FOR

Today we’re joined by Detective Joe Erickson, the creation of author Lynn-Steven Johanson. Lynn is an award-winning playwright and novelist who holds an MFA degree from the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. He is retired from Western Illinois University and lives in Illinois with his wife and has three adult children. Learn more about him and his books at his website. 

Greetings. I’m Detective Joe Erickson, and I work with Chicago PD. You can read all about me in Lynn-Steven Johanson’s new novel, Havana Brown. At age thirty-nine, I decided it was time to get into good physical condition again. When hangovers started lasting two days, and I had to start loosening my belt another notch, I realized I needed to start taking better care of myself. And to do that, I not only needed to go to the gym and work out, but also needed to start eating right. So, I bought some cookbooks and taught myself to cook. And you know what?  I liked it. And I got good at it, too. 

 

I won’t go into details because you can read all about it in Havana Brown, along with how I apprehended a vile serial killer, met the love of my life, and how I drove myself into a nervous breakdown. Yeah, I did that to myself. Spoiler alert: Since Havana Brown is a prequel to Rose’s Thorn, some of you may know I’m feeling better but still on medical leave.

 

Since I love to cook, I’m going to treat you to one of my favorite recipes, one I call, “Ragu to Kill For.” Not literally, of course. But once you try it, you’ll understand the name. It takes some time to prepare, but let me tell you, it’s well worth it. And once you make it, you’ll make it again.

 

Ragu to Kill For

 

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil

8 ounces of chorizo sausage

3 cups chopped onion

2 tablespoons finely chopped garlic

2 tablespoons of smoked paprika

2 pounds chicken breasts, cut into 1-inch chunks

1/2 teaspoon salt

Freshly ground pepper—about 1/8 tsp

3 cups dry white wine

4 cups canned diced tomatoes drained

2 cups chicken broth

1/4 cup chopped parsley

 

Heat oil in a large pot over medium heat and add sausage. Cook, stirring occasionally, 5 to 10 minutes. Add onion and garlic. Cover and cook for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the onion is soft.

 

Sprinkle smoked paprika over the onion mixture; stir to coat. Cook for 1 minute. Add chicken, salt, and pepper; stir to coat. Cook, stirring, for 5 minutes. Add wine and increase heat to high; cook until the wine is reduced by about a third, approximately 8 minutes.

 

Stir in tomatoes, broth, and parsley; reduce heat and simmer uncovered until the chicken is tender, and the sauce is beginning to thicken, 1 to 1 1/4 hours.

 

Serve it over your choice of pasta.

 

A few of my detective colleagues at Area 3 detective headquarters in Chicago like to give me a hard time about my culinary expertise. “What did you bring today, Joe?” or “When you going to start sharing it?” I’m used to it, and it doesn’t bother me. When I see one of my colleagues sitting at his desk munching on a ham sandwich, I’m tickling my taste buds with leftover Ragu to Kill For over mostaccioli or a salmon arugula salad. I know some of them are envious, but so far, no one has dared to steal my lunch!

 

Havana Brown

A Joe Erickson Mystery

 

In this prequel to Rose’s Thorn, Detective Joe Erickson discovers a clever and vile serial killer preying on women in Chicago. Only a few cat hairs provide a clue to the perpetrator of six mutilation murders. Joe’s razor-sharp intuition and unorthodox methods ultimately lead him on a trail fraught with twists, turns, and dead ends. But pushing himself day and night begins taking its toll, and his obsession with apprehending the killer could be his undoing.

 

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BOOK CLUB FRIDAY--INTERVIEW WITH AUTHOR B. DAVID SPICER'S GRIFTER KISSY LISBON

Today we sit down for a chat with Kissy Lisbon from author B. David Spicer’s Bullet Holes Series.

What was your life like before your author started pulling your strings?

Well, right before I got yanked out of Fiction Town, I was playing poker with the Bennet sisters and that boring as dirt Darcy guy. The sisters were holding their own, but Darcy never seemed to catch on to how the game was played, and would suddenly blurt ‘Go Fish’ on somebody else’s turn and bray like a donkey. Calling him a halfwit would be a compliment, or at least that’s how he’d take it. It’s a really good thing he’s overloaded with greenbacks and gold, because he doesn’t have anything else going for him. Nothing else at all.

Poker night aside, life in Fiction Town is always a waiting game, you know? Is today the day I get to do something, or is it just another spin across the dance floor of drudgery? Patience comes in pint-glasses in Fiction Town, you gotta choke it down and hope that your number comes up before you make it to your funeral, or have enough of Darcy’s money to open your own bank.

What’s the one trait you like most about yourself?

I can usually find the opportunity in any situation. Say some mug is tickling your ribs with a .38 because you took a pile of his cash in a scam. Some folks would just button-up and take the bullet, but not me. See, I’d realize that the galoot with the gun let himself be taken in by my scam because he was desperate for money. He had a little, he wanted more, and he made a bad choice by giving fistfuls of it to me. Now, he’d lost his stake once, but nothing’s really changed with his situation. He’s still desperate, he’s still able to make bad choices, and he’s still able to hand over fistfuls, albeit smaller ones, of cash. 

Talk fast, light up a cigarette, and tell him what a boob he’s being. Act like you’re in control, laugh at the guy, accuse him of being impatient, but hey, if he wants to pull out of the deal now and lose a fortune, well that’s up to him. Sure, you can give him the money he invested with you, but if he pulls out now, just before the big payoff, he’ll only get what he put in, not a nickel more. You gotta make him believe that he’d be an idiot to back out of the deal, but you’re more than willing to wave at him in the breadline as you drive by in your Rolls-Royce. He started the encounter by wanting to kill me; by the end of it I’ll have the rest of his cash, and maybe even his .38. When you’re running a con, everything is an opportunity, and the most successful grifters can see the silver lining down the barrel of a gun.

What do you like least about yourself?

What, are you a shrink or something? From my point of view I’m a real prize, the jackpot everyone hopes to win at the casino. A top notch, premium gal that’ll make all your most vivid dreams come true. Okay, so anyone who knows me would laugh if they heard me say that. They’d also tell you that I tend to keep people at arm’s length, close enough that I can pick your pocket, but not close enough for a smooch. They’d say I don’t let people in. They’re obviously just being crybabies. Let me buy you a shot, and we’ll forget all about this silly question of yours.

You’re still sitting there, looking at me like I’m supposed to say more. Have I had bad things happen in my life? Sure, but who hasn’t? I just don’t want to wallow in it, and I sure won’t let you wallow in it either. I’ll tell you what, pile up some sawbucks on the bar, and I’ll spin you a tale or two, how’s that sound? Yes, about me. Of course they’ll be true stories. You keep handing over the folding green and I’ll keep telling you the truth. The truth is always for sale.”

What is the strangest thing your author has had you do or had happen to you?

So, there I was, walking up to a hospital to visit my friend Norman, who’s a first-rate nincompoop and got himself gut-shot. Then there are these big bozos, part of Hitler’s fan club, you know the type, who’ve scheduled me for a visit with the coroner. Then I’m running, getting shot at, the usual sort of afternoon I get, nothing too exciting. Then I’m stealing a big delivery truck! I don’t know how to drive a machine that big, so gears are grinding, cars are skidding to a stop all around me. The fan club is chasing me in a black sedan, popping off love letters in lead, hoping to install portholes in my hull. I’m tearing my way through Cincinnati in this metal monstrosity, drawing lots of attention from every direction. 

Eventually the law joins the chase in a couple of black-and-whites. The fan club starts installing holes in the cop-cars, and eventually give up on me. The cops follow the sedan, and finally I’m all on my own. Just when I’m congratulating myself for missing my date with Saint Peter, I realize I can’t stop the truck! I run out of road, and the next thing I know, I’m taking an impromptu bath in the Ohio River. Not my proudest moment, but then again, you didn’t ask about my proudest moment. I need another shot of rye. Join me? Ah, good. 

Do you argue with your author? If so, what do you argue about?

Any character that doesn’t argue with their author at some point probably isn’t worth the ink it took to haul them out of Fiction Town. So, my guy sometimes tries to tell me what to do, but I ain’t having it. He tries to tie up all the loose ends and put a little bow on my life. Do I look like the kind of girl that wears bows? Life is messy, my life is messier than most, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. To keep the upper hand, I only tell him little bits about myself, that way he can’t get that damned bow around me. Ask him, if you can ever get him to come out of his house, what my middle name is. He doesn’t know, because I haven’t told him. Not that he doesn’t ask, but I just huff cigarette smoke up his nose and shake my head. I’m in charge of our little partnership, and he’d better not forget it.

What is your greatest fear?

This one is hard. I once lost someone I cared about very much. It tore my soul out of my body, and I’ve never seen it since. It’s hard to get too close to someone when you know they could be taken away from you in a sawed-off second. There are some hurts you can get over with only a scar left behind, then there are those events that break you all the way through. You don’t always recover from those injuries, and moving forward isn’t always the same thing as living.

What makes you happy?

A pocket full of money, a good steak dinner, and a fresh pack of smokes. Throw in a bottle of rye and I’m as content as a sinner in Gomorrah.”

If you could rewrite a part of your story, what would it be? Why?

In one chapter I pitch a literal fit, gibbering like a lunatic on the floor to convince a particular ‘gentleman’ that I’ve snapped and need to be taken to a hospital. This little scene was designed to point out the ‘gentleman’s’ absolute contempt for women. He doesn’t believe women are intelligent, nor have enough backbone to stand up to him, so he dismisses them as being below his level of attention. Okay, great. The guy is a chauvinist pig, I’m not denying it. I just wish this little fact could have been established without putting me through the humiliating charade on the carpet. 

I’d have written that scene as a battle of the wits, my mental rapier against his dull meat cleaver. I could have bested him in such a way that he was forced to publicly concede victory to someone whom he believes is inferior to him in every way. It’d have been a much better scene my way, or at least I think so.

Of the other characters in your book, which one bugs you the most? Why?

Norman, without a doubt. He’s not a bad guy really, he’d do anything for me, but he’d whine about it for an hour first. He’s a simple man, with simple goals. He wants a warm bed, a full belly, and a devoted wife. Unfortunately, he’s set his sights on me for that last bit, but there’s no hope for him on that account. He and I have been business partners for a few years now, running cons for small stakes, barely scraping by, and somehow that was enough for him. He didn’t want to work for anything better, either because he’s completely brainless, or just doesn’t realize that guys like him can ever have anything more than the scraps from other people’s tables. I hope that someday he realizes that he could do better for himself and tries a little harder to get somewhere in life. Until then, he’s occasionally useful, so I’ll probably keep him around for a while. 

After they pulled that bullet out of his guts he decided I owe him one. Maybe I do, but that doesn’t mean I’ll say ‘I do.’

Of the other characters in your book, which one would you love to trade places with? Why?

By the end of my book, I’m the only character I’d ever want to be, which is convenient because I’m already me. Besides, I’m already a whole bunch of people in the book, a con artist has the luxury of being anybody they can make you believe they are.

Tell us a little something about your author. Where can readers find his website/blog?

I’ll tell you something about my author, he’s a hermit. Even his friends say so. He goes to his day job, comes home and sleeps until it’s time to go back to his day job. That’s why it takes him so long to get any writing done. I think there’s something seriously wrong with the guy. He doesn’t have a website or a blog, but he does have a Facebook page at www.facebook.com/spicerwriter/. Just don’t expect too many updates. Look, I’ll try to get him more engaged with the outside world, but I’m not a miracle worker.

What's next for you?

Well, that’s a good question. Assuming I can keep my author awake and at the keyboard, I hope to star in another book really soon, eventually I hope to force him to write a whole series of books. ‘The Bullet Holes’ series has a certain ring to it, don’t you think? Until then, I’ll be back in Fiction Town teaching the Bennet sisters how to play Hold’em, and trying to teach Darcy that there are card games besides Go Fish. Dammit, where did I put that bottle of whiskey?

Big Shots and Bullet Holes

The Bullet Holes Series, Book 1

Cincinnati, 1942.

The secret to being a grifter is changing up the con so the rubes don’t realize they’re being taken. 

Kissy Lisbon’s spent years honing her skills as a con-woman, but as the war in Europe drags on, things get tough in the Queen City. Her new scheme: hiring herself out as a private eye. Her first client has a missing daughter, the missing daughter has a German boyfriend, and the German boyfriend has friends in all the wrong places. Following a lead sends Kissy careening headlong into a whirlwind of stolen money, American Nazis, and bleeding corpses. When an old flame from Kizzy's past shows up wearing a shiny new detective’s badge, she’s less than thrilled, but together they scour the city for answers. As the bodies start to pile up around her, Kissy is in a race to save the missing girl, her country, and her very life.

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#TRAVEL TO PORTLAND, MAINE WITH MYSTERY AUTHOR DALE T. PHILLIPS

Dale T. Phillips has published novels, story collections, nonfiction, and over 70 short stories. Stephen King was Dale's college writing teacher, and since that time, Dale has found time to appear on stage, television, in an independent feature film, a short political satire film, and compete on Jeopardy (losing in a spectacular fashion). Learn more about Dale and his books at his website.

The setting for my Zack Taylor mystery series is the great little city of Portland, Maine, a jewel by the sea. The people are terrific, there are a number of vibrant cultures, it’s a four-season vacationland alive with music, art, and literature, and it’s a foodie and craft-beer-lover paradise. I spent a lot of time there in years past, and wanted to set a mystery there. Why let the big cities of New York, L.A., and Chicago have all the sleuths and fun?

So when I wrote my first mystery, A Memory of Grief, I created a protagonist who comes to Portland in the 1990’s as an outsider, a complete fish-out-of-water. Zack Taylor has a troubled past and arrives on a mission to find the truth. He finds so much more and decides to stay in Portland for further adventures.

Although I use many real settings that those familiar with the area will readily recognize, I freely change things around. It sounds so attractive that some have asked if I work for the Maine tourism bureau. I always tell people that if they haven’t yet been to Portland, my series will make them want to go there. Still, I frequently show the dark side of Maine as well: the poverty, the widespread and chronic unemployment, the backwoods close-minded mentality, the small-town bigotry.

But I show Portland as a healing place, an environment so completely different from what Zack has known in glittery cityscapes like Las Vegas and Miami, that he turns his life around. He finds a love that has heretofore eluded him, although it is a difficult and complicated relationship, due to the violence that surrounds him. He finds a friend and mentor in Joshua Chamberlain (J.C.) Reed, a long-time reporter for The Maine Times. He also finds a host of enemies and has to deal with violent people, despite the fact that he doesn’t like or use guns, which puts him at a decided disadvantage.

Setting is vital to the events of the mysteries. In the first book, A Memory of Grief, Zack takes on a cadre of killers out at Fort Williams, the park that contains the iconic, oft-painted/photographed Portland Head Lighthouse. A Fall From Grace details Zack taking on a small Maine burg, which has turned against a single mother after the murder of the Town Manager. Later in the series we see Zack involved in the movie business, the coastal art scene, and a world where politics and crooked outside-money interests collide.

People know Stephen King writes about Maine, but Portland is also a rich ground for great mystery and crime writers, including: Kate Flora, Bruce Robert Coffin, Gerry Boyle, James Hayman, and Chris Holm. You can meet many of them at the Maine Crime Wave, an annual mini-con gathering of writers, fans, and special guests. Between this handful of writers, we’ve upped the annual murder body count of Maine by hundreds. They often paint Portland as a dark place of intrigue, although I like to show off the good points in my protagonists’ desire to set things right.

So when you’re in the mood for a trip to Maine, or a touch of murder and personal struggle, you can pick up the Zack Taylor series in many places, including, of course, the many Portland area bookshops: Letterpress Books, Sherman’s, Longfellow Books, or Nonesuch Books.

A Memory of Grief

Troubled ex-con Zack Taylor is haunted by the accidental death of his brother years before. Zack's guilt and anger have pushed him into a shadowy, wandering life, with little purpose and few attachments. When he hears of the death of his close friend Ben Sterling, a supposed gunshot suicide, Zack finds he now has a purpose—to find out what happened. Then his purpose becomes an obsession.

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#COOKING WITH CLORIS--GUEST AUTHORS JANET ELIZABETH LYNN AND WILL ZEILINGER

Shrimp Cocktail still served at the Golden Gate Hotel and Casino

Janet Elizabeth Lynn and Will Zeilinger had been writing individually until they got together to write the Skylar Drake Murder Mystery series, hard-boiled tales based in Hollywood in 1955. Learn more about them at their individual websites.

Desert Ice is the third hard-boiled Skylar Drake Murder Mystery. A murder in L.A. takes Drake to Las Vegas in search of answers. Since much of mid-1950s Las Vegas was demolished and reclaimed for more modern building, it was obvious we needed to go there to research Sin City ourselves.

At that time, the mob was alive and well. The locals welcomed the gangsters to the open city. This allowed them to enter the city and do what they did best, operate gambling and prostitution establishments— legally. They may have been criminals in other parts of the country but the minute they set foot in Nevada, they became legitimate and very successful businessmen.

While there, we had the opportunity to interview several professors at UNLV as well as researchers of old Las Vegas.  Among the people we spoke to who lived in Las Vegas during the 1950s were the daughter of a mobster and a dancer. The subjects that kept cropping up during our interviews were the Mob and (believe it not) Shrimp Cocktail.

We learned that Shrimp Cocktail was introduced to Las Vegas by Italo Ghelfi, a restaurant/bar owner from San Francisco. He and his partners were lured to Las Vegas to buy the Western Hotel then owned by Emilio "Gomba" Giorgetti. Giorgetti controlled illegal slot operations, liquor sales and a number of powerful politicians. When this reputed mob boss was subpoenaed to appear before the Kefauver Committee on organized crime, he decided to leave town—fast.  Giorgetti sold the hotel to the partnership.

Two years later the Western was sold, and the partnership opened the Golden Gate Casino on the main floor of the Sal Sagev Hotel and Casino (Las Vegas spelled backwards). To attract gamblers he introduced and sold the "Original Shrimp Cocktail” for fifty cents. It was small salad shrimp with cocktail sauce served in a tulip glass. Tourists and locals couldn't get enough of it. Successful? Ghelfi managed the casino for forty years.

Keep in mind Ghelfi not only displaced a mobster from Las Vegas, he also began the shrimp cocktail tradition that still thrives.

With this in mind, we had to include it in our story. Skylar Drake, along with an FBI agent and three female Pinkerton detectives, enjoy the appetizer as the mystery begins to intensify in Las Vegas. The Pinkerton detectives are from other parts of the country, so the idea of shrimp in a tulip glass with delicious sauce does tend to preoccupy them when off duty— so to speak.

Las Vegas made Shrimp Cocktail popular in the western states in the 1950s. People who visited Sin City would return home wanting the tasty shrimp.

Shrimp Cocktail

for the shrimp:

8 cups water

1/2 cup dry white wine

1 medium lemon, thinly sliced

3 fresh Italian parsley sprigs

2 bay leaves

2 teaspoons whole black peppercorns

1-1/2 teaspoons kosher salt

2 pounds (21/25-count) shrimp, peeled except for the tails and deveined

for the cocktail sauce:

1-1/2 cups ketchup

1/4 cup prepared horseradish

1/2 teaspoon freshly squeezed lemon juice

1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, plus more as needed

1/2 teaspoon Tabasco

Combine all the ingredients for the shrimp except the shrimp in a 4-quart pot over high heat and bring to a boil.

Add the shrimp, stir, and remove the pan from the heat. Cover with a tight fitting lid and let sit until the shrimp are opaque and just cooked through, about 10 minutes. Meanwhile, line a baking sheet with paper towels and set it aside.

Drain the shrimp in a strainer and transfer them to the baking sheet, arranging in a single layer. Be sure to remove and discard any solids from the poaching liquid that have stuck to the shrimp (discard the contents in the strainer as well). Let sit until cooled to room temperature, about 10 minutes.

Transfer the shrimp to a large bowl and cover with plastic wrap. Refrigerate until chilled, at least 1 hour and up to 1 day. Meanwhile, make the cocktail sauce:

Stir all the ingredients together in a medium bowl. Taste and season with more pepper as needed. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and chill until ready to serve. Serve the shrimp with the sauce for dipping.

Desert Ice

In 1955, a missing Marine and stolen diamonds lead Private Eye Skylar Drake to Sin City, where the women are beautiful and almost everything is legal—except murder.

The FBI and a Las Vegas crime boss force him to choose between the right and wrong side of the law. All the while, government secrets, sordid lies and trickery block his efforts to solve the case.

Common sense tells him to go back to L.A. but his gut tells him to find his fellow Marine.

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