Tag Archives: Kevin Egan
History is being made this fall with the first major-party female candidate for president of the United States, and in keeping with this moment of girl power, several of the stories in our October issue highlight women exhibiting their strength of character in a variety of ways. Strong, resourceful women strut their stuff in Susan Oleksiw’s “Variable Winds,” Janice Law’s “Votes for Women,” and Gilbert M. Stack’s “Pandora’s Bluff.” Women challenged by circumstances, bad choices, or malevolent men feature in “Breakfast with Strange” by Martin Limón, “The Book of Judges” by Kevin Egan, “Close Scrutiny” by Elaine Menge, and “Stella by Starlight” by Con Lehane.
Whether damsels in distress or femme fatales or smart cookies, women of mystery always make for reading pleasure!
Over the past sixty years, it has regularly been our pleasure to welcome new voices, writers either new to our pages or making their publishing debut. This double issue continues that legacy. Congratulations, then, to two authors appearing in print for the first time: Jason Half with “The Widow Cleans House,” and Mark Thielman with his Black Orchid Novella Award–winning “A Meter of Murder.” And welcome to three authors new to AHMM: Alan Orloff, author of “The Last Loose End;” Andrea Smith, who introduces to our readers her intrepid beauty salon proprietor Vera Ames in “Beauty Shop of Horror;” and James Nolan, who brings us a tale set in Mexico in “Shortcut to Gringo Hill.”
As it happens, the notion of legacy plays an important role in several of this issue’s tales. Our cover story, Eve Fisher’s “Great Expectations,” examines a family’s handling of a small inheritance. Attorney David Crockett, in Evan Lewis’s “Mr. Crockett and the Indians,” carries with him a rather uncomfortable legacy—the crotchety voice of his ancestor Davy. Kevin Egan’s “The Heist,” set in the New York State Supreme Court building in Manhattan, involves the cultural legacy of a Hungarian émigré. And a legacy of Mob violence drives the latest installment of Janice Law’s series featuring Madame Selina and her young helper Nip.
Regular appearances by favorite writers and characters are another aspect of the AHMM legacy, and this issue features other strong installments in familiar series. John H. Dirckx, a recidivist for nearly forty years, teams Lieutenant Cyrus Auburn and Detective Sergeant Fritz Dollinger in “Can’t Undo.” R. T. Lawton, whose four different series display an impressive range of tone, setting, and eras, this time brings us “The Great Aul,” a new tale of the Armenian and his young Nogai helper. And Terence Faherty, who first appeared in our pages in 2007, offers “Margo and the Milk Trap,” his latest entry in a WWII–era series featuring radio producer Margo Banning.
Great crime fiction is a legacy our readers need not feud over.
Kevin Egan’s newest novel, Midnight (Forge)—named a Best Book of 2013 by Kirkus Reviews—takes place in and around the New York County Courthouse. His story in our June issue, “Term Life,” draws its characters from the same milieu. Here, the author explains his fascination with the what goes on behind the bench.
“Write what you know.” It is a standard writing instructor mantra.
As a college senior I took two creative writing classes. The first professor insisted we write what we know. I didn’t know anything about anything. The second professor encouraged us to write about anything in the world. I chose a slave in ancient Rome. But years later, and after much hard work, I was able to steer a course between writing what I knew and writing about anything in the world. I published one science fiction novel and three cozy mysteries. Then I decided to write about something I knew well – my job.
I am a lawyer and have worked my entire career in the New York state court system, mostly as a judge’s law clerk. I also work at the New York County Courthouse, famous from the opening credits of Law & Order as well as other television and movie productions. It seemed like a natural combination: Add my insider’s view on interesting cases to a landmark setting and, voila, dramatic fiction would follow.
But dramatic fiction did not follow.