SOME WELL-DESERVED
THANK-YOUS, A CONFESSION,
AND AN INVITATION

I have to admit it. Writing crime fiction is fun. I love digging into the dark recesses of my brain and discovering what twisted thoughts lurk therein. Some may say I’m not a healthy man. To them I respond, killing people in print is cathartic, it’s legal, and I have a shrink who’s been exploring my tortured soul for forty years, and he promises me that I’m starting to exhibit signs of mental health.

“So, then, can I stop coming here?” I ask him.

“No,” he says.

“Please,” I whine. “I mean, I already put your four kids through college. I thought you’d let me go when the last one finished grad school.”

“Not yet,” he says. “My wife and I want to remodel the kitchen. Also, you have to take it slowly. If you get too stable, you’ll be out of a job.”

And so, on my doctor’s advice, I will continue to explore the shadowy corners of my psyche and conjure up criminals whose heinous acts stretch the limits of your imagination.

But my cops and my attention to the details of law enforcement will be obsessively authentic. And for that I need help. Which brings me to my first thank-you: Danny Corcoran.

If that name sounds familiar, it may be because he’s the fictional hero in my previous book, Snowstorm in August. But there’s a real Danny Corcoran—a decorated veteran of NYPD who spent five years as an undercover narcotics cop, was a 911 responder working at Ground Zero, saved countless lives as a member of the department’s elite hostage negotiation team, and wrapped up his twenty-four years of service as a first grade detective at the Manhattan North Homicide Squad.

I met Danny six years ago, and my books—and my life—have been better ever since. He’s my partner in crime, who (ironically) keeps me honest. His insider knowledge of cops, the criminal justice system, the politics at 1PP, and the streets of New York—be they mean or posh—goes deep. I get a lot of feedback from people in law enforcement who love the fact that my crime fiction has the ring of truth. I can’t take the credit. That’s Danny.

I also want to thank another expert who took time off from his busy days helping people stay healthy. Dr. Neal Smoller is my neighborhood pharmacist and the owner of the Village Apothecary in Woodstock, New York. But he’s always willing to humor my homicidal tendencies to show me how someone might use a life-saving drug to kill a friend or relative.

Thanks also to the usual cast of characters on my speed dial, who are always ready to answer questions about the law (my brother Joseph Karp), fashion (my daughter, Sarah Karp Charles), aviation (my pilot buddy, Dan Fennessy), and just about anything else (Bob Beatty).

Thank you to my long-time support team, Mel Berger, Bill Harrison, Maddee James, and Riley Mack. Thanks to Josh Stanton and everyone at Blackstone Publishing, and most especially to Michael Carr, whose editorial chops and wicked sense of humor made this a better book, and to Kathryn English, who is as gifted at working with writers as she is at design.

Finally, my undying gratitude to my wife—the woman they call Saint Emily—to my family, and to Sean, Ed, Tommy, and Dennis, who fill my life with love, courage, hope, and laughter every other Tuesday night.

Oh, about that invitation. Every now and then I do a pop-up Zoom call with some of my readers. If you want to get on the invitation list, send an email with the subject “Zoom Me” to marshall@karpkills.com. I promise it won’t be boring.

Thank you for supporting my life of crime.