Saturday, January 28, 2012

An Eye for Diamonds by Kevin Litwin

            Edmund Freitag died yesterday after a long, painful illness. Joseph Gumm never heard of the man until this morning, while reading a newspaper article about the deceased.
Mr. Freitag was a business tycoon who never married, lived alone, and has no survivors. The 85-year-old man lives – or lived – only a few blocks from Gumm, but the two never crossed paths.
The newspaper story mentioned certain details that catch Gumm's eye, causing him to suddenly become interested in the late Mr. Freitag. It seems the old man died a millionaire, thanks in large part to a lifetime of allegedly overcharging and callously bilking naïve customers at three highly profitable jewelry stores he owned.
The article also includes a somewhat odd quote from an interview the elderly lifelong bachelor granted the newspaper last year, when the cantankerous Freitag said, “The only loves in my life are my home and a collection of diamonds I own. I’d kill to protect them both.”
One key word from that quote – diamonds – piqued Gumm’s interest, then the article’s final sentence made his heart beat a bit faster.
A brief visitation for Mr. Freitag will be this evening from 5-6 p.m. at Iris Funeral Parlor, and visitation will also be tomorrow at Spirit Chapel from noon until his funeral at 1 p.m.
“His funeral at 1,” Gumm muttered with sinister thoughts in mind.
For Joseph Gumm is a jewel thief, and burglarizing homes is his talent. He has pillaged numerous wealthy residences during a career of crime, though none of the robberies ever took place in his own neighborhood.
That was about to change with the death of Edmund Freitag.

****

At 5 p.m. that same day, as funeral parlor visitation began, Gumm climbed into his pickup truck and methodically drove to the old man’s now uninhabited house, to case it discretely from the street. The majestic three-story mansion looked to be securely locked, with the nefarious Gumm assuring himself that an interior alarm system must surely be part of the home’s infrastructure.
Curiously, no fencing of any kind surrounded the perimeter of the property, which could allow basically anyone to access the front door and grounds. However, even with this seemingly unusual security oversight, the veteran jewel thief realized that the entire estate still had an impenetrable aura about it.
As he slowly coasted along the street and prepared to drive away, Gumm happened to spot a third-story window on the eastern side of the house, toward the rear of the mansion. The large rectangular window is virtually invisible from the street, unless someone specifically looked for it.
For some peculiar reason, the third-story window was wide open that evening. The Freitag property showed absolutely no sign of life – no people or vehicles were visible anywhere – so the whole scenario made no sense to Gumm.
Adding to the puzzling scene was a long, rickety, wooden ladder anchored atop a concrete patio slab, with the ladder stretching upward to the third-floor window. The patio slab held no furniture – its only current purpose was to serve as foundation for the ladder that ascended to the open window.
“This joint's a fortress, so what gives?” Gumm wondered, crinkling his forehead in confusion with no answer to the puzzling sight.
But after a few seconds of ponder, he attributed the askew setting to a painter or handyman who probably worked on the home and forgot to lock up when leaving. With that puzzle solved, one final minute to meticulously study the property was followed by the black-hearted thief motoring away from the mansion, to begin plotting his next fabulous robbery.
“I'll do the heist tomorrow around 1,” Gumm concluded, knowing the mansion would certainly be abandoned due to Mr. Freitag’s funeral.
The scheming burglar surmised that walking – not driving – to the targeted home would be his wisest tactic, allowing himself to sneak up from the backyard instead of the street. Plus, he noticed during his home casing that the back of Freitag’s property is heavily wooded, so Gumm could sneak through a portion of the woods to ideally arrive at the rear of the house without anyone noticing.
How to enter the fortified home presented another issue, but that final item could be figured out tomorrow. Tonight, the confident jewel thief would sleep and dream in delight, with images of brilliant diamonds glimmering in the forefront of his mind.

****

On the afternoon of fate, at 12:30 p.m. as gray dreariness filled the sky, Gumm exited his own residence and put into motion the wheels of his daring burglary. Armed with a tiny crowbar and small jimmy stick stuffed into a jacket pocket, he embarked upon a calculated out-of-the-way hike to the woods behind Freitag mansion.
He slithered and slunk through heavy foliage until finally making his way to a strategic tree-camouflaged position, where he could easily see the back of the elderly gentleman's home. The house appeared as formidably secure as ever, except for what Gumm surprisingly witnessed in the near distance.
The third-story window – the same window that was open late yesterday for whatever reason – was wide open today, and the concrete slab still supported the big ladder that scaled up to it. The baffled robber could also see that the window had no screens or other obstacles within it, so in spite of his bewilderment, he made a decision of destiny.
“I’m goin’ through that window. But really, why is it still open?” he wondered while beginning a careful sneak toward the ladder. “I don't see no work trucks or nothin’, and the place is dead quiet. I don’t understand, but it saves me from jimmyin' the back door or bustin' a window and maybe trippin’ some alarm.”
Gumm's original plan had been to forcibly enter the house via crowbar or jimmy stick, then rush to hopefully find jewels within three or four minutes, and ultimately run from the premises before police could possibly arrive. But now, the open window mysteriously beckoned to him as a perfect means of entry.

****

He donned a thin pair of tight-fitting surgical gloves to hide his fingerprints, then climbed the shaky ladder with steely nerve and his guts of a burglar, reaching the inviting window within seconds. He peered cautiously into the opening before nimbly climbing through, and immediately surmised that he had entered a library chamber.
Tall mahogany bookcases were lined next to one another, and a thick brown Afghan rug covered part of an intricately patterned hardwood floor. Blue velvet armchairs with engrained crests also graced the stately room, and art treasures of surrealism and impressionism adorned gold-colored walls.
But the item whose splendor ultimately caught Gumm's eye was a vintage rolltop desk of European craftsmanship that sat regally in the middle of the room, with an office chair of Victorian resplendence pushed up against it. And atop the glorious desk appeared a sterling silver jewelry box with the word Diamonds elegantly inscribed in cursive. Next to the shiny box sat a solid gold watch along with a pearl-handled serrated letter opener, and Gumm’s heart pounded with unyielding desire at the sight of such bedazzlement.
But instead of instantly pilfering the silver box and vacating the crime scene, he pulled out the Victorian office chair and sat down at the rolltop desk. He eagerly reached for the box of gems and zealously pulled off its tight cover, revealing a king's ransom in sparkling diamonds that ancient monarchies would kill for.
Flawless cut diamonds by the handfuls. Exquisite jewels glistening like sunlight on dancing water.
“Incredible,” a mesmerized Gumm whispered in ecstasy.
He quickly snapped out of his euphoria and realized that getting out of the mansion was top priority, so he hurriedly arose from the office chair, replaced the lid tightly onto the invaluable silver box, and amorously grabbed it in both hands. His total enthrallment with the diamonds caused him to blindly forego the solid gold watch and pearl letter opener.
The wide-eyed thief started to take a first step toward the open window to make his escape, when a sickening premonition streamed into his consciousness. Suddenly into the dank library chamber appeared the menacing ghost of Edmund Freitag.

****

The shadowy apparition had sickly gray features that glinted in the ruddy purple light filtering through the window, and the horrid image of the elderly corpse caused perspiration to burst from Gumm's forehead. He shuddered with terror and blinked twice to make sure the nightmarish vision was real.
As the petrified burglar tried to fathom the goings-on, he backpedaled a step in dread. Then the old man spoke.
“You loathsome creature!” bellowed the enraged ghost as his phantom shape floated ominously toward the intruder. “You invade the very home I love and steal my collection of treasured diamonds? You vulgar piece of garbage!”
“H-how is this happening?” the mortified Gumm whimpered as icy chills enveloped his spine. “Y-you…you're dead. I read it in the newspaper.”
“Yes, I am dead, but my corpse could not rest with a pariah like you raiding my beloved home!” Freitag screamed with death on his lips. “And now that you have violated my lovely lair long enough, the time has come for you to leave.”
The eerie ghost of Freitag snatched the serrated letter opener from the rolltop desk and, with a rapier-like motion, slashed a brutal deep gash into Gumm’s left cheekbone and across the cornea of his left eye. The stunned robber was momentarily paralyzed with shock, so the crazed Freitag violently jammed the razor-sharp jagged opener into Gumm's left eye and furiously carved and dug at the eyeball until it dislodged from the socket. The bloody round orb dangled and bobbed on Gumm's face like a tether ball.
The silver gemstone box flew wildly into the air from the jewel thief's quivering fingers as he shrieked in agony, with his cut-up face and grotesque hanging eyeball gushing geysers of scarlet blood. The overwhelming trauma caused the astonished Gumm to clumsily stumble backwards as he shivered with terror and writhed in pain, grasping his mangled face with both hands. He continued stumbling further backward in hideous convulsion until reaching the open window, from which he fell and somersaulted savagely to the concrete slab three stories down.
Joseph Gumm died instantly, landing face first into the cement patio as pieces of his head splattered about. The bulky wooden ladder came crashing down and landed directly onto the thief’s hanging eyeball, which tore from his face and rolled to a stop a few feet from Gumm's crushed skull.
Three stories up, the wild ghost of Edmund Freitag angrily flung the dripping letter opener at the massacred intruder below, then abruptly closed the window and locked it tight. He drifted to the box of prized diamonds that lay intact on the bloodied Afghan rug and anxiously returned the coveted item to its proper place atop the rolltop desk.
Quickly checking the time on the gold watch, it read 1:00, so he immediately disappeared from his cherished home. Mr. Freitag had a funeral to attend. His own.

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Sometimes Andrew Is by Kevin Litwin

Sometimes Andrew is a super hero, always saving the day,
Sometimes Andrew is a dinosaur, hunting for his prey.

Sometimes Andrew is an astronaut, landing a ship on Mars,
Sometimes Andrew is a rock star, playing the drums and guitar.

Sometimes Andrew is a doctor, helping people heal,
Sometimes Andrew is a famous chef, cooking a yummy meal.

Why is Andrew all these things? Because he likes to play,
His great imagination helps him enjoy every single day.

When Andrew gets a bit older, he can be anything he wants,
But right now when he’s 6 years old, it’s just having fun that counts.

Monday, January 2, 2012

The Adam’s Apple by Kevin Litwin

Tonight the moon will be full, so tonight I will do the deed. I have planned this surprise for days.
My madness continues to fester, tormenting my spirit, as the perversity of the actions I witness on a nightly basis has driven me to the extreme of rage. As I curl up for naptime in the early afternoon prior to tonight’s fateful murder, I reflect upon good deeds my human does for me.
He raises blinds each morning before leaving, knowing that two windows in our apartment face south. The sun pours through the violet glass as I doze on soft carpeting, listening to fainted sounds of nearby freeway traffic speeding by.
Each evening when arriving home, he opens two cans of tuna for me to enjoy. It’s not the cheap tuna – it’s albacore. And one evening last week, he brought home a scratching post for me to delight. Made of hard emery and oak, I have meticulously sharpened my claws to a scary razor finish in anxious preparation of this frenzied night to come.

****

As today’s evening breaks, my human returns to our apartment as he does every day at this time. He taps my head in a playful manner, and satisfyingly scratches my neck under the collar for what seems to be a blissful eternity. Even though I’m independent to a fault, my human insists on feeding and caring for me, so tonight I shall equivalently return such favor when he drops off to sleep.
For because he is oblivious to the world when out cold, he hasn’t the slightest inkling that each night a mouse invades his throat and nests there. Surely it is a mouse. What else could it be? Yes, it is a mouse.
I noticed by chance the monstrous little creature a few nights ago, and its existence has haunted me unceasingly since then. The cruelty of it throbbing up and down, up and down, inside my human’s throat makes my soul shriek with fury. I hate the little fiend. It must be exterminated.

****

Tonight has finally arrived, filled with unusual gloom. The air is hot and sullen, and my psyche overflows with nightmarish contempt. Moonbeams silt through the apartment windows, and my keen eyes are sharper than ever as I notice from the living room that my human has turned off the lamp in his bedroom. Undoubtedly he has stretched his tired body atop the smallish bed, and usually within five minutes becomes dead to the world with slumber.
Almost instantaneously, the mouse then always arrives, traveling from wherever it travels to cloister itself inside the neck and throat of my human. I have especially noticed this disturbing escapade in earnest for the past two nights, while quietly casing the bedroom to check on things. I watch in horror and disdain as my human lays on his back and struggles to breathe, all due to the vile trespassing mouse that methodically moves up and down, up and down.

****

Suddenly, I now hear strange noises emanating from my human’s mouth and throat, so I instantly rise to my feet from the living room comfort and lithely tiptoe to the bedroom. I arrive at the door archway and from my standing position on the floor, I look upward and peer at my prone human whose throat is trembling with the vibrations of that infernal mouse going up and down inside his neck. Up and down, up and down. Evil vermin, it is time to become acquainted with the frightening predator that I am.
With heart-stirring excitement, the destroyer in me flexes my sharp retractable claws and I grind my fanglike teeth, in crazed preparation for attack. Then, with eyes spewing fire, I take one gigantic and calculated leap upward from the bedroom floor and land perfectly on the bed, inches from my human’s head.
With claws honed like knives and in a fit of rage, I mightily slash my razor-like nails at the very body of the loathsome mouse and, with the strength of a tiny Hercules, I violently rip it from the confines of my human’s throat. Die, filthy intruder, die!
Hot black blood pours like molten lava from the neck of my human – blood of the wretched mouse. The disgusting creature lay motionless near the side of my human’s head, and being hunter and carnivore that I am, I devour the little scum in one bite, in victory. Excelsior! Its taste is wild and delicious, more delicious than albacore tuna.
I wish I had the ability to laugh, for now would be time for guffaws and glee, given the joyousness of this occasion. Sweet, sweet triumph. Vulgar mouse, your depraved actions will never darken our door – and throat – ever again.

****

The mouse’s distressing dark blood continues to cascade from the neck of my human, as pillowcase and bed sheets become more and more smeared with repugnance. However, it’s perfectly okay. My human lay quiet, with his nightly affliction finally vanquished. Never will that nasty varmint provide another instant of nuisance.
So dream beautiful dreams, my human. No doubt you will be proud of my accomplishment once you awaken in the morning, and realize what I did. Is a reward in my immediate future? Dinner tomorrow evening might be greater than usual. Instead of albacore, perhaps I shall feast on red salmon. Served wild and delicious.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Gently Rapping

I’ll kinda miss doing my Wednesday and Saturday blogs, but today is my final one. I’ll still stay in touch by updating my CLD Facebook page on the first day of every month, plus more if I have any big news regarding my book-publishing effort.
I did attend the Killer Nashville mystery writers’ convention a couple weeks back and had some encouraging news. I was there on a Sunday morning for three agent/publisher book pitches, with my first 10-minute shot occurring from 10:40-10:50 with publisher Martin Shepard of The Permanent Press out of New York. When I finished, he asked me to send him the first 50 pages of my manuscript, so a glimmer of hope right off the bat.
The next 10-minute pitch was with publisher Deni Dietz, and she ultimately asked me to submit my entire manuscript to her. Then my third and final shot was with New York agent Jeff Kleinman, supposedly a difficult person to deal with who surprised me by wanting to see my first three chapters.
In fact, Kleinman immediately liked my story idea and asked if I brought the first three chapters with me. I didn’t, never suspecting that any agent or publisher would ask such a question at the convention. He chided me a bit for being unprepared but bottom line: He still wants me to send the first three chapters.
Of the 650 people at the convention that weekend, an organizer told me that the agent/publishers asked to see a total of 40 sample writings, including my three. Made me feel good until they all gave me their final words of advice – “Okay, we like the idea. Now make sure you have every word perfect before you submit anything to us. Don’t send us crap. Now it’s all about the writing. Make it great.”
Deni Dietz, who wants the entire manuscript, told me that her publishing house doesn’t take any manuscripts under 65,000 words. Mine, before I began a final edit that I just started over Labor Day weekend, was 57,800 words. As I currently write this blog Tuesday night Sept. 6, the book is now 59,000 words after I’ve gone through the first 10 chapters of the 45-chapter novel. I’ve got some more ideas of scenes to add, so onward I shall go.
Dietz and the two others said there is no hurry for my manuscript or chapters – they each already have their 2012 book lineups set. They all told me that when I’m ready to submit my work to them, the earliest it could get published is 2013. Sheesh, they work way in advance.
So more writing and editing is my plan of attack, and I’m focusing on impressing Deni Dietz since she asked for the whole thing. I work with a good editor at Journal Communications – Raven – who said she would read and critique my manuscript when it’s finally ready.
Ironically, Edgar Allan Poe is one of my favorite authors and his most memorable work is The Raven, so Raven seems like a choice of destiny to oversee my final edit. I plan to have the rewrite completed by the end of September, at which point I will approach Raven for her help. I will suddenly come a tapping, as if someone gently rapping, rapping at her chamber door. Hopefully, Raven won’t say, “Nevermore.”
Thank you to niece Andrea who from March 8-Sept. 7 posted my 45 blogs – hey, the same number of chapters that are in my book. Thanks for reading the blogs, everyone. Talk atcha on my CLD Facebook page Oct. 1 – maybe sooner. KL

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Killer

Haven’t blogged in awhile because my life kinda stinks right now, like the tuna fish sandwich I ate yesterday. But onward we all go.
Book update: I will be attending a Killer Nashville mystery book writers convention Aug. 26-28 near Vanderbilt University in Nashville. The annual convention showcases the mystery genre with many nationally recognized speakers, agents, editors and publishers in attendance.
One of the nice aspects is that a registered attendee like me is allowed to pitch his book for 15 minutes to a New York agent. Ironically, I’ll just so happen to attend a seminar called The Perfect Pitch only an hour prior to my personal pitch. Good luck, me.
A thank you goes out to Jessica for putting together a flashy one-page, two-sided, flyer-like, card cover (inside joke) handout I can give to agents at the Killer Nashville conference. The flyer has my book cover on the front (thanks Jon Brooks) and a brief synopsis and my bio on the back. There is even a cool graphic of my signature – looks like I signed with my own blood (thanks Keith).
Also a shout out to Gary, who e-mailed some encouraging words last week telling me to keep plugging with Crazy Lucky Dead, as he relayed a fact about the best-selling book The Help. It’s a 2009 novel by Kathryn Stockett about African American maids working in white households in Mississippi during the early 1960s, and apparently Stockett was rejected by more than 60 agents prior to finally getting a book deal. Her novel ultimately made the New York Times Best Sellers list.
Okay, that’s all for right now. I still love to write but dislike all the other aspects of this peddling process. The whole thing makes me feel like a hamper of dirty clothes. Maybe my washing machine will be at the Killer Nashville convention.
Next blog Sept. 7. Goodbye.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

From Kevin

I am going to end my blog on Sept. 7.
That will be a full six months since I first started blogging on March 8, and I don’t think anyone really cares what’s coming out of my mind anymore. I think you’re all ready to move on to something else, and so I am.
Right now I’m in the process of writing my second book, plus I just put together a children’s book that I will soon try to peddle. As for Crazy Lucky Dead, I certainly haven’t put enough effort lately into either finding an agent or self-publishing it or e-publishing it, so I need to get back at it. Luckily for me, I wrote the book so it’s timeless, meaning that if an agent ever does take a chance even years from now, I’ll barely have to rewrite it. Just transform 2005 Chevrolet Impalas into 2016 Nissan Leafs, and things like that.
So today’s blog, then a blog on Saturday Aug. 20 to catch people up on things, then the final one Wednesday Sept. 7. The whole thing a little confusing? Maybe, but I’m a little confused myself these days – kind of like a tourist in New York City.
Thanks for reading. I’ve really enjoyed blogging.
Kevin

Saturday, July 30, 2011

Distorted Reality

I must be turning into a 14-year-old teenage girl.
I've been watching too many TV reality shows lately, mostly for all the gossip and drama that accompanies them. This became especially evident Thursday night when I was affixed to the season premieres of Project Runway and LA Ink.
Don't know why I watch Project Runway – I'm certainly not a clothes horse. Maybe I'm attracted to the design artistry that's involved. By the way, this season I'm rooting for the straight guy. Oh, wait – there aren't any.
As for LA Ink, again I like the artistry. I'm impressed when clients bring in pictures of people's faces they want tattooed on their arms, and the tattooists make the finished tattoos look exactly like the pictures. Speaking of which, bad move by Kat Von D to get a big likeness of fiancé Jesse James tattooed on her underarm, then the couple broke up in real life a week after the taping of that particular episode.
Okay, I need to stop. Gotta go listen to my Justin Bieber CD.
Burn, Baby, Burn
Lose weight and increase metabolism in a healthy, scientific way?
Nope, this isn't a Billy Mays (deceased) commercial. I wrote an article this week on research advancements at the University of Tennessee, and interviewed Joy Fisher with the UT Research Foundation. She mentioned quite a few upcoming medical breakthroughs at UT, including:
“We're backing a company that has developed a can't-miss, scientific weight loss product called Innutria,” Joy said. “Innutria is a food ingredient with a specific blend of natural nutrients, which when added to food or a beverage helps your body burn fat and increase metabolism.”
Joy doesn't yet know the launch date (it will be soon) or where Innutria will be sold. Innutria.com will have updates.
Speaking of Food
My friend Tony visited Sea World the other day, then relayed this joke:
“Why does Sea World have a seafood restaurant? I'm halfway through my fish burger and I realize, Oh my…I could be eating a slow learner.”