Showing posts with label Paul Barton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Paul Barton. Show all posts

Thursday, February 27, 2020

A Second Look a The Cutie-Pie Murders


dontravis.com blog post #378

Courtesy of pexels-photo
Man, did I get the hits on last week’s post, “Clouds.” Got over 1300 in one day. But not many comments. By the way, if you read my posts on Facebook, please be sure to “Like” them… if that’s appropriate.

On September 12 of last year, I gave readers a first look at The Cutie Pie Murders, the next in the BJ Vinson Mystery series. It was post Number 354, in case you want to look it up. Today, I’d like to give you a second look. The following excerpt comes at the beginning of Chapter 2.  BJ’s considering investigating the murder of nineteen-year-old Mateo (Matt) Zapata, who turns out to be the third handsome young man strangled and dumped naked in some public place. BJ’s having his first discussion with the father of the murdered youth.

*****
THE CUTIE PIE MURDERS

Hazel Harris Weeks stuck her head through the door of my private office. “Fellow here by the name of Juan Zapata. Says he has an appointment.” My office manager’s voice held a note of censure. One more appointment I hadn’t let her know about.
          I swung my feet off the corner of the desk and sat up. “Called him on the way back from Santa Fe yesterday.”
          Hazel frowned. “He any relation to Zancon Zapata?” Even though Hazel didn’t totally understand my lifestyle, she’d grown as protective of Paul as she had of me, and she knew every detail of what the Saints had done to him.
         “Somebody killed his boy. He’s entitled to the same respect as any other paying customer.” The word paying would get to her faster than any other explanation. She nodded and disappeared.
          A moment later, she ushered a younger, healthier version of Zancon into my inner office. The man’s overcoat was damp from the scattered snowflakes falling outside. Thank goodness I’d driven up to Santa Fe yesterday on a dry road. The snowfall didn’t amount to much, but ice was another thing altogether. I stood and gripped the man’s outstretched hand.
          “I’m Juan Zapata,” he said. “I understand my brother filled you in on my problem yesterday.”
          “B. J. Vinson. Everyone calls me BJ. Zancon told me about your son’s death but gave me no details. Said you’d do that when we met.”
          Juan took the seat I indicated and flushed. “Sounds like something he’d do. My son was gay, Mr…. uh, BJ. And that’s something Zancon can’t accept.”
          “Why don’t you fill me in?”
          The handsome man on the other side of my desk blew through his nostrils in exasperation. “I don’t know a hell of a lot. When I said he was gay, that’s not entirely correct. He was probably bisexual. He had a girlfriend, but I know for a fact he’s had a few boyfriends these past two years.”
          I rubbed an itchy eye. Score another one for Zancon. He not only wanted me to kill his nephew’s murderer, but he’d come to a gay investigator with the request. Probably figured it took one to know one. Some things never change.
          “Let’s start with the basics, Juan,” I said. Tell me about Mateo. I understand he was eighteen. Was he still in school? Live at home? Have his own place? Show me the young man before you tell me about his murder.”
          Juan took me literally, dragging out his billfold, removing a snapshot, and handing it over. The kid almost took my breath away. Beautiful eyes as brown as dark chocolate. Black hair with a fetching cowlick. Thin nose, broad sensual lips. This kid was movie star handsome with just enough irregularity to his features to render him sexy. A real cutie-pie.
           Juan sighed before starting down the road of his son’s short life. “Mateo… Matt finished high school last year, a year ahead of most of his classmates and immediately enrolled at the University of New Mexico. He wanted to be a commercial photographer. But I think that was just so he understood the camera. His real ambition was to be a professional model.”
          “He had the looks for it. Did he live on campus?”
          Juan shook his head. “Had a small one-bedroom apartment on Princeton. Easy walk to his classes.”
          I learned a lot about Matt Zapata while his father worked around to something that was obviously difficult to face, the thing Zancon hadn’t wanted to discuss yesterday. Matt was a swimmer. A tennis player. A whizz at poker. Popular with girls and guys alike. Played a mean guitar and had a decent singing voice. Finally, Juan hesitated, and I knew he’d arrived at his destination.
          “Although I provided for his needs, Matt was always independent. He’d recently taken a job. I discouraged the idea, saying he ought to enjoy these college years, but he insisted.”
          He was dragging his feet again, so I cut straight to the chase. “What kind of job.”
          Juan averted his eyes. “Escort. He was an escort. He… ah, he was an amazing kid. He fit in any social circle you could imagine. And when he dressed up in a suit or tux, he was really something.”
          “Who did he work for?”
          Juan rubbed his nose. “He was freelance. Booked his calls through a phone service. He was new to it. Only had a few assignments before… before….”
          “Did he die on one of those assignments?” I asked.
          Juan Zapata dropped his head to his chest. “I don’t know. He… he was found on the West Mesa.”
          He swallowed hard, but I could see he had more to say. “And?”
          “My son was naked. At least that’s what they tell me. And….”
          I spared him the agony of continuing. “Let me get a copy of the police report and talk to a couple of people, then we’ll talk again.”
           “So you’ll take the case?”
          “At the moment, I don’t see why not. Is there a question in your mind about it?”
          He lifted anguished eyes to meet mine. “My brother… the man who contacted you about this is someone you shot and put behind bars. My… my boy might have been a call boy. So—”
          Mr. Zapata… Juan, are you a good man?”
          A frown puckered his face. “I think so.”
          “Was Mateo a good man?”
          “To me he was.”
          “And his life was taken from him. Tell me, are you looking for justice for Matt or revenge?”
           A startled look passed over his face before understanding dawned. “I am seeking justice, BJ. I want the bastard who killed Matt identified, tried, convicted, and then locked up for the rest of his life.”
          I thought for a moment. “Locked up in Santa Fe where Zancon is just waiting.”
          “Send him somewhere else, I don’t care. Just so he can’t do that to anyone else’s son.”
          “The police can do that for you.”
          Juan passed a hand over his face. “That is one thing Zancon and I agree on. They’ll take one look and consider it simply as a gang killing a queer. I want someone fighting for me. For Matt.”

 *****
Sounds like a father’s cry for help to me. And so it does to BJ, as well. Now we’re off and running in our intrepid investigator’s search for justice. Hope this held your interest.  Let me know what you think about it.

Until next week.

The following are buy links for the recently released The Voxlightner Scandal.


Now my mantra: Keep on reading and keep on writing. You have something to say, so say it!

My personal links: (Note the change in the Email address because I’m still getting remarks on the old dontravis21@gmail.com. PLEASE DON’T USE THAT ONE.)
                                                                                                    
Facebook: www.facebook.com/donald.travis.982
Twitter: @dontravis3

Buy links to Abaddon’s Locusts:


See you next week.

Don

Thursday, May 10, 2018

A Dragon Named Pedro

dontravis.com blog post #284

Another little piece of short, short fiction this week. I’m particularly interested in the readers’ reaction to this offering.

*****
Maria Fanning, Artist
A DRAGON NAMED PEDRO

          From his high perch, Pedro the Dragon’s lidless eyes seemed fixed on the man in swimming trunks lying on a poolside lounge. Good build, and probably handsome when viewed up close. He knew his owner watched the man as well. The brown nipple Pedro held in the talons of one clawed foot stiffened and puckered, a subtle but sure sign of interest.


          Paul sat in the tall lifeguard’s chair at the North Valley Country Club and watched the man basking in the early morning sun. At this hour, they were the only two individuals at the swimming pool. Even though Paul was new to the club, he knew the man had an interesting history. B. J. Vinson—no one could tell him what the initials stood for—had once been a US Marine and then an Albuquerque Police detective before becoming a private eye. Intriguing.
          But no more so than the man, himself. Strange colored hair… mocha he’d heard it called. Eyes as green as a polished Granny Smith apple. Chiseled features; handsome but not pretty. Lean and athletic. Good, tanned skin without blemish except for one scar on the inside of the left thigh. Scuttlebutt held that was from a gunshot wound Vinson got back when he was a policeman.
          Although aware they were alone, Paul involuntarily glanced around to see if anyone noticed he was taking too much notice of a nearly naked man. Where he came from—Albuquerque’s south valley—interest like that would earn a guy a beating or worse. The thought startled him. Interest like that? Well, he couldn’t deny it. He felt the small tattooed dragon on his left pec squeezing his nipple, making it stand up. And tingle. Pedro often set off so many nerve endings that it became embarrassing for Paul to stand up in polite society.
          To avoid that eventuality, he climbed down from his elevated chair and snared a floating candy wrapper with a telescoping aluminum pole equipped with a leaf net.
          “Kids,” he muttered softly with half an eye on the other man. The aroma of summer roses climbing the club's adobe wall battled the odor of chlorine from the pool, distracting him for a moment.
          Vinson reached for a glass beside the lounge and missed, spilling what appeared to be orange juice.
          Paul dropped the skimmer and picked up the glass, holding it out. “Can I get you another?” Pedro gave a yank on Paul’s nipple when he noticed those fascinating green eyes studying the tiny tattoo.
          “No, thanks. Nothing left but ice cubes, anyway.”
          Pedro about went crazy at the sound of the deep baritone.
          “But I appreciate your offer, uh….”
          “Paul. Paul Barton.”
          “Paul.”
          He noticed the slight hesitation but decided not to enlighten the man. Aware he was a mixture of Hispanic and Anglo blood, he often got that reaction to his last name. But his mother had been the Latina; his father the Anglo. “Anytime,” he muttered as his eyes wandered the man’s lanky form, halting without intention on the purple scar.
          “Bullet wound,” Vinson said.
          “Damn, I’ll bet that hurt.”
          “Like you wouldn’t believe. That’s why I swim early in the morning. Therapy.”
          “Swimming’s the best exercise in the world.” Paul felt his cheeks burn as he revealed himself as a dyed-in-the-wool water bug. He glanced down at his tight trunks. Well, dyed-in-spandex, anyway.
          His cell phone piped “Dixie” on a nearby table. He eyed the other man as he answered the call. Jill Hardwick asked what time he got off work and suggested they go to a movie that evening. He told her “five” and said he had plans. As he finished the call, Vinson tossed him a wave and disappeared into the locker room. Pedro gave a final squeeze to Paul’s nipple, making him wish he could follow the man to the showers.


          By five-thirty, Paul felt foolish hanging around outside the club’s Moorish gate. He’d misread the situation… badly. BJ Vinson, PI, probably hadn’t given him a second thought once he left the club. But Paul had sensed a strong connection with the attractive detective. Wrong.
          Just as he started walking to the employee’s parking lot, a white Impala swung to the curb and stopped. The hunky detective rolled down the window and leaned across the seat. Without exchanging a word, Paul hopped into the passenger’s seat as Pedro did his thing beneath the tight polo shirt. Feeling the need to say something, Paul went trite.
          “Hi, Mr. Vinson.”
          “Call me BJ or Vince. The Vince comes from Vinson.”
          “What do most people call you?”
          “BJ.”
          “Okay, then I’ll call you Vince. At least when nobody’s around.”
          “Where can I drop you?” Vince asked with a smile.
          Paul’s grin almost split his lips. “Wherever you’re going is okay by me.”
          Pedro must have approved because the inky claw squeezed Paul’s tit almost painfully.

*****

Readers of my BJ Vinson Mystery Series will recognize the opening and closing scenes from Chapter 3 of The Zozobra Incident when BJ first meets Paul Barton. But this time, it’s told from Paul’s and Pedro’s viewpoints. The change makes for interesting reading. Let me know what you think.


My mantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. And keep on submitting your work to publishers and agents. You have something to say… so say it.

If you would like to drop me a line, my personal links follow:

Facebook: Don Travis
Twitter: @dontravis3

Here are some buy links to City of Rocks, my most recent book.


The next book in the BJ Vinson Mystery Series, The Lovely Pines is scheduled for release on August 28 of this year. Abaddon’s Locusts follows sometime in the first quarter of 2019.

See you next week.

Don

New Posts are published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.

Thursday, October 5, 2017

Another Peek at Abaddon’s Locusts

On April 13 and again on August 10, I gave readers a peek at the fifth novel in the BJ Vinson series called Abaddon’s Locusts. After the first post, a couple of people ventured guesses who the youth on the bed in a motel room was. In the second one, I revealed that it was Jazz Penrod, a handsome, happy-go-lucky, half Navajo youth who fully embraced his homosexuality. We first met him in The Bisti Business when he and his half-brother Henry Secatero help BJ solve a case and rescue a young man. I decided to feature Jazz in another novel, and Abaddon is that book.

All of the BJ Vinson books to this point are told from BJ’s viewpoint (viewpoint is a biggie to authors), but I strayed from the norm for this one. In a few chapters, we are in Jazz’s “head” and view things through his eyes. I’d like to give you a snippet of the book from that viewpoint.

The following scene comes at the beginning of Chapter 5. Jazz, seeking a loving and lasting connection, is lured to Albuquerque for a face to face meeting with a young Hispanic named Juan. Things are good, but Juan says they can be better and introduces the naïve young half-breed to crack cocaine. Once Jazz is hooked, he’s turned over to an obviously wealthy white man identified only as Silver Wings because of his hair coloring. Let’s see how Jazz is handling the situation. One thing is clear. He’s not as likable as when we met him in Bisti.

I hope the read is interesting.
*****
Courtesy of Pixabay
ABADDON’S LOCUSTS
          “Hey, wake up. Need to ask you something.”
          Jazz roused from a dream as Juan shook him roughly. “Le’ me alone,” he mumbled, seeking to recapture the reverie. Water Sprinkler and some other Navajo Yé’ii had been in it. He grew surly when he realized the details escaped him. Wouldn’t have mattered much if he could recall. He wasn’t raised on the old legends like most guys his age and didn’t understand a damned thing about that side of his blood. Water Sprinkler was the rain god—that much he knew. So likely that meant his parade was going to get rained on. Big time.
          “Man, that crack shit’s taking you over. All you do’s fuck and bitch. Come on, man. Wake up.”
          Jazz pushed himself against the headboard and tried to focus. The sheet fell away to reveal his naked torso. Seemed like he was always naked nowadays. Juan reached out and stroked his pecs. Juan liked to touch him. Jazz had liked it too…once.  Now not so much. He shrugged the hand away. “Leave me alone. I finally got to sleep and you wake me up. I need a pipe, okay?”
          “A shower’s what you need. Silver wings wants to meet you tonight.”
          Jazz’s stomach did a flip-flop. “I don’t like him.”
          “Well, he digs you. Think he’s gonna want you to move in with him.”
          The idea struck Jazz like a crowbar jammed into the gears of an engine. His thinking came to a halt. He needed a pipe. That was the only good thing about Silver Wings. Jazz always got good crack before the man arrived. “Smoke,” he mumbled.
          Juan shoved two photos at him. “Later. Right now, I need you to look at these pics.”
          Jazz struggled to focus as he scanned the photos. They were the same handsome man, one with a shirt, the other without. His stomach cramped and he felt itchy. “Who’s this?”
          “You tell me. He says he knows you. Says you told him about me?”
          “I did?”
          “You know him?”
          Jazz blinked a couple of times and moved one picture back and forth until it became clearer. Struggling to get his mind to work, he rubbed his eyes before taking another look. The guy seemed familiar. But Jazz associated him with someone else. Someone he liked. Admired.
          “Dude lives here in Albuquerque,” he said aloud. “Don’t remember his name.”
          “Does the name Paul mean anything to you?”
          “Yeah. That’s it. Paul.” Jazz had no idea if that was correct, but it was easier to agree with Juan.
          “Paul what?”
          “I dunno. Just Paul.”
          “You tell him about me? Send him my photo?”
          “He says I did, I guess I did,” Jazz mumbled, sliding back beneath the thin covers. His eyes were closed as Juan left the room with a warning they’d have to leave for the meeting with Silver Wings in an hour, but Jazz was struggling to think. Make connections. Paul. Barton! That was his last name. And they’d never exchanged Emails or pictures. He’d only seen the good-looking dude once. In Farmington. In some motel room. Had they got it on? Could be.
          Jazz came upright in the bed as a shadowy figure flitted just out of reach in his head. BJ! BJ’s Paul was talking to Juan? Was the fucker two-timing BJ? His skin crawled as he shook his head. No. No, Paul contacted Juan because… because BJ was looking for him!
          Jazz lay back and battled his emotions. He had ventured out of his comfort zone for the promise of a steady connection. A loving, intelligent, exciting man of his own. Like BJ had with Paul. And it had been wonderful for a while. Everything he’d ever dreamed of. But it all turned to ashes. Pipe ash.
          Why had he let Juanito talk him into smoking the crack? His new life had been wonderful without the crap. But Juanito promised him they’d make things even better. And they had—for a bit. Then it changed. He changed. The world changed. Now he pleasured men in exchange for the pipes. Men? Well, Juanito and Silver Wings. But he knew there would be more men one day. Probably when they took that trip to Mexico Juan talked about.
          His frazzled mind called up the image of BJ. BJ was a detective. He’d find him and drag his ass out of this tangled mess. His heart soared until it nearly burst before abruptly slowing, leaving him woozy. Did he want out? Yeah, it would be good to go home. See his mom and Uncle Riley. Henry. His father. But if BJ got him out, the man he idolized would see what he’d become. His stomach plummeted as an overwhelming sense of shame drove him to bury his head beneath the bedcovers.
          Jazz sobbed and willed his heart to stop. To cease. To spare him anything that lay beyond this moment, this room, this bed. But Coyote refused to throw a rock into Black Water Lake to summon death, so his heart ignored his wishes and thudded against his ribs in a stubborn, determined beat.
*****
Sounds like Jazz is in deep do-do. Can BJ save him before he gets so depraved by sex trafficking and drugs that he is no longer the man he was?

Following the recent release of THE CITY OF ROCKS, I’ve decided to take a greater interest in promoting my books. In pursuit of that, I’d like to build a database of email addresses of my readers. Nothing nefarious, just to let readers know when something significant happens, such as the release of the next novel, THE LOVELY PINES. If you send your address to dontravis21@gmail.com, I will do nothing more with it than to send you timely messages.

The following information provides contact information and the DSP Publications links:

Don Travis Email: dontravis21@gmail.com
Blog: dontravis.com
Facebook: Don Travis
Twitter: @dontravis3


As always, thanks for being a reader.

Don


New blogs are posted at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.

Thursday, January 5, 2017

PI Clients Are Not Always Pleasant (A reprint)


 I chose to reprint the following from near the beginning of Chapter 1 of THE BISTI BUSINESS for this week’s post because DSP Publications will be releasing this book before long.

In the scene, BJ is working late one evening when he receives a phone call from an individual looking for his son who—together with his traveling companion Dana Norville—is overdue from a vacation trip to the great state of New Mexico. The passage makes plain that confidential investigators occasionally end up dealing with clients they don’t personally like and, just as in any other profession, come face to face with bigotry on occasions. It also points out that PIs generally prefer to deal with attorneys as clients because lawyers realize what the rest of us do not. PI’s are information gatherers, not detectives who go around solving crimes… except in fiction… such as in THE BISTI BUSINESS, for example. The scene also allows me to highlight some New Mexico history. Enjoy.

*****
Cover by Mary Fanning
THE BISTI BUSINESS

“How about Norville?”
“That bastard’s a dyed-in-the-wool pansy, and he’s contaminating my son.”
I bit my tongue at the sophomoric outburst. “For your information, Mr. Alfano, I’m pretty ‘dyed-in-the-wool’ myself. I think you need to call someone else.”
“Now wait a minute.” Anthony Alfano obviously was not accustomed to getting the brush-off. “I know all about you. And except for that—nonsense—you’ve got a good reputation. You can move in both the straight world and the gay world. You’re the one I want. Find my son, Vinson, and send him home to his mother and me.”
“It’s Mr. Vinson.” Might as well set the bigoted SOB straight right at the beginning.
“All right, Mr. Vinson, score one for you. Are you sure you’re gay? You don’t sound it.”
“Does your son?”
“No, but—”
“But in your dreams he’s not twisted, right? How about Norville? Am I looking for a flaming queen?”
“Of course, not. Lando wouldn’t hang out with someone like that. No, I’ve got to admit, looking at Dana Norville, you wouldn’t suspect.”
“Then how can you be certain?”
“I did a quick background check on Norville when the two of them started bumming around together, and the guy was clean. But when they…uh, got close, I took another look and found the man Norville had been shacking up with before he latched onto my son.”
“Very well, Mr. Alfano, I’ll look into the matter. I’ll do it for Orlando and Dana, but you’re going to be footing the bills.”
He promised to have his secretary in California call Hazel tomorrow with the credit card information for my retainer and to provide anything else we requested. I asked him to email color photos of the two men. If they were as close as he believed, there would be a few around somewhere. He also gave me his son’s cell and pager numbers.
After hanging up, I tapped my desk blotter with a gold and onyx letter opener fashioned into a miniature Toledo blade. I sighed aloud. The Alfano case had all the hallmarks of developing into a nightmare. Working for attorneys was easier; they understood the process. Private individuals had a warped idea of what a PI did, which was nothing more or less than gathering information. But I was committed, so I might as well make the best of it.
I returned to the visual meditation of the landscape outside my window. As nature’s glow dimmed, man-made lights came alive: amber lampposts, white fluorescents, flamboyant neons, yellow vehicle headlights reflecting off wet pavement, and far in the distance a tiny spot moving slowly across the sky—one of the aerial trams hauling patrons up Sandia Peak’s rugged western escarpment to the restaurant atop the mountain.
By leaning forward, I caught the faint, rosy underbelly of a western cloudbank, the lingering legacy of a dead sunset. Was that what had drawn Orando and Dana to the Land of Enchantment? Spectacular scenery and surreal sunsets? Or was it our rich heritage of Indian and Hispanic art? The two were history majors, and Albuquerque had a long history. It was approaching its 300th birthday, while Santa Fe and many of the nearby Indian Pueblos had longer lifelines.

*****

The Zozobra Incident was released by DSP this past November. Bisti, along with The City of Rocks will be published in 2017. The novels feature the adventures of BJ Vinson and his partner, Paul Barton.

Keep on reading, guys. I always look forward to hearing from you at dontravis21@gmail.com.

See you next week.

Don

New posts are published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.

Thursday, October 6, 2016

More Characters from The Zozobra Incident (A Reprint)

I apologize for another reprint (and promise to use them more sparingly in the future), but I want to complete my introduction of the major characters from both the book, THE ZOZOBRA INCIDENT, and the BJ Vinson Mystery Series. Remember, DSP Publications is giving rebirth to the novel (and the series) beginning November 15.

*****
Last week, we learned about BJ, our protagonist, took a look at Hazel Harris, his secretary-office manager-surrogate mom, and met Del Dahlman, BJ’s first love and first bitter disappointment, who is now a successful Albuquerque attorney. We will see these characters throughout the series.

We also gained some insight into Emilio Prada, the handsome gigolo responsible for breaking up BJ and Del. Now let’s look at some other individuals who populate BJ’s world.

Detective Eugene (Gene) Enriquez is just shy of his forty-first birthday when we first meet him. A local (he was born in Bernalillo, a town fifteen miles north of Albuquerque), Gene is stocky, five-seven, and weighs 155 pounds. A Hispanic, he has vaguely Polynesian features a lot of women find attractive. After his army service, he goes through the Albuquerque Police Academy and is sworn in as an officer. He walks a downtown beat and even rides horse patrol for a short period, but his ambition is to become a detective. Some years after he achieves this goal, he finds himself assigned to a new partner… a gay partner. B. J. Vinson. It bothers him at first that BJ, who could have passed as a hetero, doesn’t bother to deny his homosexuality when asked about it. Before long, Gene comes to admire his new partner’s honesty. The guy is gay, and that’s that. Once Gene learns he can trust his partner’s judgment and instincts, they get along professionally and socially. Gene takes some flack from other cops about riding with a queer, but Gene is married to Glenda, an attractive woman with whom he has five kids. He figures that all the cover he needs. He takes it hard when BJ nearly dies while they are apprehending an accused murderer, but he keeps in touch when his partner takes medical retirement and opens a confidential investigations office. He is one of the few people who knows BJ inherited a fortune upon his parent’s death. We’ll see Gene again.

Paul Barton looks Hispanic to Anglos and Anglo to Hispanics. When BJ first meets him, the family name “Barton” takes him by surprise. He expected it to be a Spanish surname, but it is Paul’s mother who carries the Latin blood. Paul was born on June 13, 1985 in Albuquerque’s South Valley. That makes him twenty-one at the time of THE ZOZOBRA INCIDENT. BJ first spies him with a cowgirl on the dance floor at the C&W Palace, Albuquerque’s biggest book-stomping joint. Drawn by Paul’s good looks and lean frame, BJ later realizes the kid is the new lifeguard at the North Valley Country Club where he swims as therapy for the bullet wound in his thigh. Once the connection is made, their mutual attraction soon becomes evident. This is the first time BJ has been tempted since Del’s betrayal. Paul is not only a lifeguard, he is also a full-time student at UNM pursuing a degree in Journalism. In addition, he works in the school’s cafeteria so he can live on campus his senior year. Paul is 5’11” and weighs 155 pounds. He has brown eyes, brown hair, and a swimmer’s build, A small dragon tattoo decorates his left pec. Fiercely independent, he drives an old Plymouth coupe even though BJ offers to buy him a more recent model. He’s an expert swimmer, plays soccer and golf, and loves to dance. His father, Paul Barton Sr. was a carpenter who died of TB when Paul was ten-years-old. His mother, Luisa Marta Arrular de Barton, works two jobs while raising her son. He is exposed to gang activity in the South Valley, but resists the temptation to join. Once Paul and BJ get together, Paul is absolutely devoted, even though there are some stormy times ahead. Needless to say, we’ll see Paul in future novels.

And then there is the surprise fun character. The widow Mrs. Gertrude Wardlow has lived across the street from BJ for as long as he can remember. He considers her as a frail, diminutive old woman who wears her white hair like a helmet and speaks in a thin, tremulous voice. But when the chips are down, he learns she and her late husband Herb were both retired from the DEA and that she still has the spirit as well as the will of a fighter. She is a continuing character.

*****
This is the last of the reprints for a while. Let me know what you think at dontravis21@gmail.com. A hoorah to all readers.


New Posts published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.

Thursday, August 4, 2016

OFFICIAL PUBLICATION DATES FOR TWO OF THE BJ VINSON MYSTERIES

Within the last two weeks, I’ve received official publication notices from DSP Publications for the first two of the three BJ Vinson Mysteries.







The official release date for THE ZOZOBRA INCIDENT is set as November 15, 2016. This book was first issued as an ebook in April 2011, followed shortly thereafter by a print trade book. The new release by DSP Publications has been extensively edited, and I believe it’s a better story as a result.












The official release date for THE BISTI BUSINESS has been set for March 21, 2017. This book first appeared as a trade book in 2012. Just as for ZOZOBRA, the manuscript underwent a heavy editing process as I worked with DSP editors to improve this book.









The release date for the third novel in the BJ Vinson Mystery Series, THE CITY OF ROCKS, has not been announced, but should follow BISTI by about four months. This third novel, as yet unpublished, continues the adventures of our protagonist, gay confidential investigator BJ Vinson, and his partner Paul Barton, a graduate student pursuing an advanced degree in journalism at the University of New Mexico.

The first book in the series is centered in Albuquerque and Santa Fe. The second draws us all over northwestern New Mexico. CITY takes us to the southern part of the state down into the Boot Heel country. If you haven’t figured it out by now, the great State of New Mexico plays an important part in the series.


*****
I know that it’s wishing my life away, but I can hardly wait until November 15.  Let me hear from you at dontravis21@gmail.com. As always, thanks for being readers.


New Posts published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.

Thursday, April 28, 2016

THE ZOZOBRA INCIDENT Due for Re-release by DSP Publications in Fall 2016

As some of you know, the BJ Vinson mystery novels have been picked up by DSP Publications, an imprint of Dreamspinner Press. The first book, THE ZOZOBRA INCIDENT is due out this fall. A specific date hasn’t been set but is anticipated to be in September. THE BISTI BUSINESS and THE CITY OF ROCKS will follow one after the other approximately four months apart. Having recently completed the second edit of ZOZOBRA with Dreamspinner’s editorial staff, I’d like to post a particular scene from that novel. What follows occurs at the beginning of Chapter 3, and is the first time our confidential investigator meets Paul Barton, a young man who will become intimately involved with both BJ, personally, and the difficult and deadly case he is working on.

The following is from the second draft of the novel, which is a "Track Changes" document. Some of the edited changes show up as blue text. I thought that might be interesting for some of you, so it remains in the post.
*****
THE ZOZOBRA INCIDENT

I relaxed on a chaise lounge amid the clashing odors of chlorine from the pool and the summer roses climbing the whitewashed adobe walls as I eyed the North Valley Country Club’s new lifeguard. Lean, loose-limbed, and broad shouldered, he had the ideal swimmer’s build, reminding me somewhat of Del, even though Del was a Teutonic blue-eyed blond, whereas this young man was bronzed and brunette, and his eyes were likely brown. Up close, the dark shape on the left pec would probably morph into a small tattoo. Spandex seldom did anything for me, but his thigh-hugging, well-filled trunks were… interesting.
As the place was deserted at this early hour except for the two of us, the lifeguard turned pool boy and policed the area, scooping fallen leaves and debris from the water with one of those baskets mounted on a long aluminum pole. He worked his way to my side and netted a soggy candy wrapper.
“Kids,” he observed in a pleasant baritone.
Seized by an unexpected need that was 90 percent loneliness, I did something I had not done in twelve long months—reacted to the good-looking guy. Flustered, I fumbled for the orange juice on a table beside me and overturned my glass.
He knelt to recover the tumbler, holding it up and offering to get me another.
Yep, brown eyes, deep and soulful. Dangerous eyes on one so young. He couldn’t be more than twenty. The dark spot above the nipple was a small dragon.
“No, thanks. Nothing left but ice cubes, anyway. But I appreciate your offer, uh….”
“Paul. Paul Barton.”
“Paul.” I was surprised by the family name. There was a strong Latin look about him. Must be the mother’s blood.
“Anytime.”
He rose, our eyes locked—and the penny dropped. This was the young man I had seen dancing so energetically at the C&W last night. He broke first, raking me with his intense gaze. His lips twitched as he zeroed in on a two-inch scar on my inner right thigh. My body looked pretty good except for that purple, puckered blemish. At first I’d been spooked by Del’s reaction to the pockmark and tried to hide it from the world. But after putting up with that foolishness for six months, I said to hell with it. The world was full of imperfections, and it could deal with this one too.
“Bullet wound,” I said.
“Damn, I’ll bet that hurt.”
My throat closed up at his casual treatment of the wound. Maybe I wasn’t as blasé as I thought. “Like you wouldn’t believe. That’s why I swim early in the morning. Therapy.”
“Swimming’s the best exercise in the world,” he declared like a true water bug. “And you were really going at it a few minutes ago. Looked pretty good out there.”
“Thanks.”
As Paul turned back to the pool, a cell phone on a nearby table piped the first line of “Dixie.” The conversation was short. He admitted to someone named Jill that he got off work at five but said he’d decided to cool it this evening, turning down what was obviously an offer of some sort. Was it coincidental he was watching me throughout the entire brief conversation?

*****
There's definitely something going on here. It'll be nice to become better acquainted with this hunky Latin guy.

The cover art of the new release will be different, and there are a few tweaks in the prose (as you can see from the blue text above), so I’m really anxious to see the final product.

Thanks for being readers… and keep up the good work. Let me know what you think at dontravis21@gmail.com.

New posts published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.



Thursday, January 14, 2016

DSP Publications Begins Work on Republishing The BJ Vinson Series

As regular readers of this blog know, DSP Publications acquired the rights to the BJ Vinson mystery series during last year’s holiday season. They have already begun the process of getting the basics out of the way (learning about the author, general thrust of the series, type of series -- these are associated, stand-alone books featuring continuing players which can be read in any order -- and that sort of information).The beginning of the editorial procedure on the first book is set for May 10. I understand publication follows the editorial process by around four months. So hopefully, we’ll see the new Zozobra Incident somewhere around September or October of this year. Except, it probably won’t be The Zozobra Incident by then. DSP has already alerted me they may change the titles of the novels.

At any rate, I chose a scene from Chapter 12 of The Zozobra Incident for this week’s blog post. BJ is uncomfortable with his recent suspicions about the new man in his life, Paul Barton. In the following scene, a telephone conversation with Gene Enriquez, his former APD partner, he’s relieved to learn that a witness has not been able to identify a photo of Paul’s as a suspect in the case. When he asks for the photo back, BJ discovers all may not be well, after all.

*****
THE ZOZOBRA INCIDENT

“Yeah. Will you return the pictures to me? I need Prada’s for the file, and I’d hate for Paul’s to get into your system for no good reason.”
“He’s already in it. Don’t tell me you didn’t check for a sheet?”
“Of course not!” Then I screwed up my standard of ethics by asking why he was on record.
“Nothing serious. Drunk and disorderly at an off-campus beer party. Got into a fight with another guy, barely missed being charged with assault.”
“Oh, crap. Is it still pending?”
“Naw. He got fingerprinted, mugged, and slammed into a cell overnight. But the judge let him go with a warning.”
“When was that?”
“A year back. Nothing before or since.”
“Thanks. I owe you.”
“Man, do you ever. But there’s more. One of the guys in the Gang Unit tells me Barton flirted around with one of the gangs back in high school. There’s no evidence he actually joined, but there was some sort of blood connection, I gather.”
“Which gang?” I asked with my heart in my throat.
“Probably the Santos Morenos. That was their turf, even back then. I can check it out if you want.”
“No, thanks. Let me do it.”
I hung up and processed what I had learned. The system snares a lot of young men for one thing or the other, and Paul’s charges hadn’t been serious. A wake up call was probably what he needed at the time.
The other thing bothered me, but maybe it shouldn’t. Every kid in Albuquerque was exposed to a gang like the Saints sooner or later. And in Paul’s part of the South Valley, half the people were related by blood or marriage. The fact Gene’s contact was vague about the details was both good and bad: Bad because whatever brought Paul to his attention was enough for him to remember it years later. Good because it meant Paul hadn’t been seriously involved with the Saints or any other gang.
*****

Hope you enjoyed the glimpse into Zozobra. As always, let me close by urging you to keep on reading and by inviting you to contact me.

See you next week.

Don


New Posts are published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.

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