Friday, January 24, 2014

The Crime Writers Break Bad

Okay, folks, here we are, the bloggers of the Crime Writers Chronicle, starring at last in our own thriller, plotted by our own Annamaria Alfieri. Tired of writing for peanuts, or, in Stephanie's case, reading for nothing, we have put our brilliant, evil minds together to create perfect crimes. These we have been selling to imperfect criminals, who are not as smart as we are but who will carry out our plans and give us money.


As our story opens, the Crime Writers are meeting at a restaurant on Lexington Avenue, to celebrate their first year of actual crime and to divide up the swag from their latest adventure, a hit on a Brinks truck full of diamonds. Bob's scruples were the hardest to overcome, since he is a retired police officer and a practicing lawyer. Also he didn't want to be played by George Clooney. But when he saw how much loot was involved he agreed to go along with the plan.

They lean in to the middle of the table and stretch out their hands as Kate distributes each one's share of diamonds with a kitchen measuring cup. "…and three-quarters of a cup for you," she says to Sheila, who happily tucks the glittering double-handful in her purse. So much for that. With sighs of satisfaction the Crime Writers settle back in their chairs.

"To the Brinks job," Sheila says, raising her glass of Champagne.

"The Brinks job," the others say.  They clink glasses.

Thelma adds, "Oh, by the way, I talked to the nicest FBI man this morning. He wanted to know all about our involvement in the Brinks Job. He was so charming that I told him everything."

Kate is horrified. "What! You ratted us out! I suppose you spilled your guts about the Wells-Fargo caper, too, and the Lufthansa heist!"

Thelma says, "It's going to be all right, not to worry. The FBI man  says we can have immunity from prosecution if we tell him everything we did and everyone we sold our plots to."

Annamaria shakes her head. "But that means we have to roll over on Rip Snorter. He'll kill us."

"Speak of the devil," Stephanie says. All eyes fly to the front window. Sure enough, the evil sociopathic Snorter is standing outside watching them. He bares his teeth in an evil leer. "He knows," Stephanie says. "He's after us."

Rip Snorter
Quicker than thought the intrepid writers rush out the back entrance and jump into Sheila York's fast little roadster. But Snorter and his henchmen are right behind them. What follows is a riveting and compelling car chase. Pedestrians jump up the walls of skyscrapers. Trucks crash into buses. Taxis are wrecked.The climax features the most spectacular car crash in movie history. In the end our heroes escape, though they are forced to return the diamonds to Brinks. Rip Snorter, badly injured, is carried away to Bellevue Hospital.

The news media goes mad. The Crime Writers become folk heroes, agents fight over them, and publishers claw each other for the right to publish their books.  The rights to their true-crime story are bought by the Weinstein Brothers. The mild mannered Crime Writers get a $2 million movie deal. They are hired to write the screenplay, which wins an Oscar. The Crime Writers share custody of the Oscar, a month at this one's house, a month at that.

With keen anticipation the Crime Writers show up at the Edgar banquet, expecting to receive the Edgar for that year's best screenplay as well, recognition from their own. Their hopes are dashed when the award goes to an Englishman nobody ever heard of.

Mysterious Englishman collecting our Edgar

© 2014 Kate Gallison


  1. Terrific! What fun!!! tjs

  2. WONDERFUL, Kate. Not as much fun as a three-quarters of a cup of diamonds, but close. VERY close!

    1. Okay, George Clooney, my doppelganger! But being a criminal lawyer, I'm accustomed to receiving cash under the table. Phooey! on diamonds! Bob

  3. Wow! I've never looked so glamorous. Perhaps if I show this to my husband he'll understand why I want to get my hair done.

  4. 3/4 cup of diamonds and I forgot where I put the purse!