From (Criminal) Econ 101, Chapter 3

 The aspect of the Nick Forte novels I am most often complimented on is the relationship between Nick and his daughter, Caroline. Caroline is growing up – she’s in high school now, playing in the marching band – but Nick isn’t any less protective. He struggles with it, knowing she has to learn how to take care of herself, but the Cone of Protection still exists.

 

From Chapter 3:

 

I met up with Caroline and her buds outside the band room. The plan was for me to drive Tyler and Joanna home before Caroline and I made the 45-minute trek to Bolingbrook.

Caroline had a better idea. Even I thought so.

“Can we get ice cream?”

We’d made this improvisation before. “You girls know the drill,” I said to her friends. “Send your mom or dad a text to ask, then show me they said it was okay.”

Apparently they had me pegged as a soft touch; the requests were already approved. Both girls nearly broke my nose shoving cell phones in my face

Sundae School was busy, not packed. I bought sundaes for all three girls – typical, and a primary reason I’m so popular when it comes to giving rides – and a milkshake for myself. I always got milkshakes when playing chauffeur, on the off chance we’d have to leave before I was ready. It’s hell to eat a sundae and drive at the same time.

I took my shake far enough away for them to be sure no eavesdropping took place. Tyler’s father got himself busted six months earlier and had yet to redeem his reputation. I maintained a line of sight so they wouldn’t have to find me when it was time to go.

Twenty minutes later two boys/young men I’d noticed sitting in a far corner made a detour on their way out to pass near my charges. No big deal. The boys looked like high school seniors or college freshmen. For all I knew they were friends or relatives of one of the girls.

A couple of minutes later Tyler’s and Joanna’s body language stiffened. Caroline was still cool, but she knew I was close and would handle anything too uncomfortable. The other girls had no such assurance.

These were always awkward situations. My first impulse was to go over and sort these boys out, but the girls needed to learn how to deal with social dilemmas; my best role was safety net. I finished my shake and was watching the situation play out when Caroline peeked over her shoulder in my direction.

I moved with an unhurried stride. Tossed my empty cup in a trash bin on the way over. Took each boy by an elbow to steer them past the girls’ table and toward the door.

This produced the expected reaction.

“Hey! What the fuck, man?”

“Who the hell are you?”

I didn’t speak until we cleared the door. Kept my voice in the register Caroline calls menacing. “I’m conducting a survey and want to ask you a couple of questions.”

These were Arlington Heights toughs, which meant South Side ten-year-olds would steal their lunch money before pantsing them. The taller one said, “You’re not going to like the answers if you don’t turn us loose, asshole.”

“First question: do either of you know what it’s like to eat soup through a straw for…I don’t know. Six to eight weeks? However long it takes a broken jaw to heal.”?”

Not the question they’d expected. “Uh…no.”

“Second and last question: would you like to find out?”

For sure not what they expected. All I got were head shakes.

“Then fuck off.”

            And off they fucked.

Criminal Econ 101, Chapter 1

 The new Nick Forte novel, Criminal Econ 101, hits closer to home than previous books in the series: Forte’s ex-wife – and, by extension, his beloved daughter Caroline – may be in danger. Readers of the series can well imagine how well that goes over with Nick.

 Below is the first chapter, to give you a taste for what’s in store.

 

1

 

Diane was scared.

Ten years of marriage, acquainted twice that long, this was new to me. I’d experienced impatience. I’d seen irritation. I had intimate familiarity with exasperation, most often directed at me shortly before and well after she requested I seek other living arrangements. I could count on one hand the times I saw her worried, even when we were married. Worrying was my job.

Having no experience with a frightened Diane didn’t make me special. She negotiated partnerships for one of the ten most prestigious consulting firms in the country. I’d spoken to her co-workers at social events who marveled at her implacable nature. One man who described himself to me as an alpha male told me once he’d been told to let her take lead in negotiations because, “the other guys might as well try to bargain with Mount Rushmore.”

I’d learned through years of experience to let her bring concerns to me instead of asking what was on her mind, after which I’d spend three days wondering when I’d learn not to do that.

Our daughter Caroline went to her room to get what she needed for the weekend at my place. Fourteen going on bankruptcy – mine – she’d inherited her mother’s taste in many things. Too bad for me. Diane made probably twice as much as I did when I did well, which I currently was not. I wasn’t broke – the house and child support payments were always on time – but my funding sources had become more unorthodox since my detective agency downsized to being only me.

Diane waited until we heard Caroline rummaging upstairs. Moved to within three feet before saying anything. Her voice wouldn’t have carried another six inches. “Can we talk?”

No human being since the creation of spoken language has ever wanted to have a conversation that begins with the other person saying Can we talk? The first answer that came to mind – Do we have to? – was superseded by the realization whatever Diane wanted to talk about probably concerned Caroline. Accepting the situation, I followed Diane into her home office, where she reached across me to shut the door. Another bad sign. No way was this a conversation I wanted to have if she felt the need to exclude Caroline.

Diane said, “This is probably nothing.”

Which meant whatever she was going to say was definitely not nothing. She left the comment hang in the air hoping I’d say something – anything – to move the conversation. I passed. The best way to get people to talk about what they’re not comfortable talking about is to leave a silence for them to fill.

This one passed through awkward and was coming up on excruciating before she caved. “I think someone is following me.”

I long ago got over any hard feelings from our divorce. It still took effort not to react. A friend told me Diane and I resembled siblings who had a major falling out and came to understand they could get along by avoiding certain topics.

Even if I weren’t so enlightened, someone following Diane was following Caroline, if only by association.

That was unacceptable.

If true.

I kept my voice neutral. Creating the perception of doubting her judgment could send the conversation into the swamp in a hurry. “What makes you think so?”

“I keep seeing the same car. Sometimes in traffic. Sometimes in the parking lot at work.”

The bridge across the swamp was shaky, but holding. “What kind of car?”

“A black Hyundai.”

“Same driver every time?”

“I think so. It’s hard to say. I only get glimpses as I go by, or he does.”

“Always a man, though.”

“I think so.”

“White? Black? Hispanic? Other?”

“Definitely white.”

So probably white. No offense to Diane, but eyewitness statements are reliable as a junkie’s promise, especially for witnesses under duress.

“He ever try to approach you?”

Diane shook her head.

“Anything else going on?”

“Like what?”

“Phone calls? Hang ups? Prowlers?”

Wrong thing to say. “Do you think he’d come to the house?”

“I have no reason to think he’d do anything. I don’t know for a fact he’s even following you. All I’m doing is asking.”

“You don’t believe me?”

Oops. Time to regain my footing. “I believe you think someone is following you. Who and why I can’t say. I need more information.” Paused. “Does Caroline suspect anything?”

“No! I would never say anything that might scare her.”

“That’s not what I asked. She’s smart and she’s sensitive to what’s going on around her. You wouldn’t have to say anything for her to wonder if something was up.”

Diane took a few seconds for a breath. “I don’t think so. At least I haven’t noticed anything.”

My daughter’s mother’s superpowers did not include picking up on non-verbal cues. She sounded as definite as I could expect given her current state of mind.

I said, “Call me if you see him again and I’ll come running. That’ll tell us right quick if it’s your imagination or if someone really is following you. Or if someone who lives near here works in your building.”

The idea she might be wrong appealed to her. Something else I’d never seen before. “But what if I’m right and someone is following me?”

“Then we’ll see how much he likes being followed.”

 

Worse Ways to Spend Your Holiday Money Than On My Book

 The seventh Forte novel, Criminal Econ 101 is now available. The Marketing Department here at The Home Office has adopted the slogan “There are worse ways to spend your holiday money” as the linchpin of the promotional campaign.

 Lest you doubt me, here are the

 TOP TEN WORSE WAYS YOU CAN SPEND YOUR HOLIDAY MONEY THAN BUYING CRIMINAL ECON 101.

10. Upholstery cleaning for J.D. Vance.

9. Chartering a fishing party on a Trump-class battleship.

8. Purchasing leftover D.O.G.E gear,

7. Picking up Pete Hegseth’s bar tab.

6. Buying a “Baltimore Ravens – 2025 AFC North Champions” hat.

5. Sending a sympathy card to Erika Kirk.

4. Buying condoms for Nick Fuentes.

3. Sending Hanukah gelt to Tucker Carlson.

2. Taking Donald Trump in your office's 2026 Nobel Peace Prize pool..

1. Buying used or bootleg copies of my other books, which are all available for free on my web site.

 

 

 

It's a Festivus Miracle!

 The seventh Nick Forte novel, Criminal Econ 101, drops today, an honest to Seinfeld Festivus miracle.

 Here’s the description from the web site:

 Chicago private eye Nick Forte’s ex-wife isn’t often scared. Never, in his experience. So when Diane takes him aside to say she’s being followed, Nick takes it seriously, especially since anyone following Diane is following their daughter Caroline as well. When the tail shows up across the street from Diane’s house one morning, Nick tags along to see what’s what, leading him into a web that includes a department store mogul, organized crime, loan sharks, money launderers, high school jerks, a woman he thought he’d seen the last of, and a man he wished he’d seen the last of. All are in play as Nick and his friend Goose Satterwhite work to keep Diane and Caroline safe while resolving the matter that placed them in danger.

 The book is available in both electronic and print formats.

 A few things have changed from my recent releases.

1.    This book is not free. Friends whose opinions I trust convinced me not to give away my work. Books already posted to my web site for free download will remain so, with the possible exception of Dead Shot, which is under evaluation. (So if you want a freebie, go for it.)

2.    Just because I’m charging again doesn’t mean I’m gouging my dozen(s?) of loyal readers. The e-book retails for $2.99; the print version is $9.99, the lowest price I can charge and still get paid. I said for years my publisher asked too much for my books. You can help prove I was right by increasing sales.

 Little (read: no) advance promotion was done, and for good reason. I didn’t know for sure when I’d get the book out until I uploaded it last week. There will be a few promotional posts here in the coming weeks including

·       Brief excerpts

·       An interview with Nick Forte

·       An interview with me

·       Whatever else I come up with

 Rest assured, all expense will be spared in promoting this addition to my oeuvre.

 (Full disclosure: This book went through more titles than Donald Trump has lawsuits. I thought of Criminal Economics early on but understood it came to mind only because my friend Eric Beetner wrote an excellent book with that title a few years ago. Several others were considered and discarded until I realized a line from a piece of dialog was the best title I could come up with. Consider the fact that I probably only thought of that line because or Eric’s book to be homage, not theft.)