The Shot
Philip Kerr
Pocket Books, 2001
Aimed at the Head. Got it in the Arm.
Irish writer John McKenna advised, "Research thoroughly. But don't put all your research into what you're writing. That would bore the hell out of your readers."
Chucked hard to the floor of the Pure Fiction arena, Critical Mick proudly presents a lost chapter from The Shot. Prostitute and minor player Summer makes requests of rock-balled cop Jimmy Nimmo...
As he entered Summer's room, Nimmo's hard stomach growled loud as a 1959 El Camino. The '59 had cateye taillights and a tough-guy grille, far more desirable to Nimmo than the twin-taillight 1960 models that were just starting to roll by on East 158th street. Summer sat up, sloshed, in her waterbed. These beds were brand-new, invented by Charles Hall after the development of vinyl made light, strong, and flexible materal available for production.
"Light. Strong. Flexible," Nimmo mumbled very like Richard Diamond, Private Detective, which aired on CBS and later NBC. Nimmo liked to think he had the sexual bravado of the young David Janssen. "Don't get up, Summer. Let me join you."
Summer played Lucille Ball- currently appearing over on Broadway in Wildcat- to Nimmo's David Janssen. She produced hair rollers the size of the fifty-foot Pepsi bottles atop Bond Clothiers on Times Square and began to experiment with a Bouffant style. "Let's refuel that sex machine first, sugarpie. We'll hit Sardi's. You're paying."
"Now that you mention it, Summer, I've got a hunger as relentless as the 1960 New York Titans, charter members of the newly established American Football League. Get yer tight acrylic sweater on you. I want all the chumps in this town to have their heads turned by what's on my meaty arm."
The redhead looked just like one of those new Barbie dolls that Nimmo's granddaughters had been begging him for, last Christmas. So what if that assassain had eluded him again today? Spending a night under New York City's lights made Nimmo feel happier than mayor Robert Ferdinand Wagner at the grand opening of Van Wyck Expressway, the Throgs Neck Bridge or maybe the Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts. Yes, definitely the Lincoln Center. That made Nimmo look forward to the performance he would enjoy, back here later tonight.
"Toss me my Berlei Elastomeric D-Cup bra, would you tiger? I have just washed it myself, a chore that used to be a bitch with those circular-stitched conical shaped bras that were in use before the introduction of nylon." Nimmo gave the intimate garment a quick sniff, then did as she asked.
"You're one hot dame," Nimmo admired. Too bad about the addictive tendencies. Too bad that a knock-out like her would never consider marrying a washed-up cop on the take, like him. Nimmo amused himself humming Billie and Lilly's 1957 hit, Lucky Ladybug.
"Would you quit that whistling!" Summer commanded. "God, Nimmo! All these gratuitous cultural references are getting on my nerves! It's like a schoolkid with a list of 1960's vocabulary words that he has to use in one paragraph!"
"Yeah, but don't the vivid details lend credibility to the well-imagined plot? They look informative to me. Don't they make the conspiracy to shoot Kennedy feel possible? "
Summer's beautiful blue eyes went hard and sad. "Enough! God, I can't wait until they invent Valium, next year."
Critical Mick says: Despite its weaknesses, The Shot is a decent read. I would have liked to have spent more time with Nimmo and, of course, the lovely Summer. Other characters did not appeal, though it was an interesting history lesson to see figures from the era fleshed out.
Two innoculations and one empty cartridge out of five. And a hope that Summer will return.
Philip Kerr's next novel: The Plot to Kill Critical Mick. Hopefully it will be better than The Shot.
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