The Book Catapult

117 Days of James Patterson – Day Thirty-Eight

Day 38, Chapter 38
Sometimes I like to picture the imagery JPatt provides as actual reality – it makes the descriptions all the more hilarious and absurd.  Today’s chapter is perfect for this purpose.  Witness:

I swear Conklin got the car up to three G’s in three seconds.

That’s pretty fast – I wonder if that was really how fast they were going?  John Stapp, acceleration pioneer from the 50’s, once survived a peak g-force of 46.2 times the force of gravity, which pretty much tore his eyeballs out.  So maybe 3g’s in 3 seconds isn’t so bad.

When I wasn’t mentally trying to steer the car from the passenger seat, I thought about the Lipstick Killer. He wasn’t just insane.

He was crazy.

While Lindsay weighs the linguistic differences between “insane and “crazy”, Conklin drives the squad car into a crowded intersection. Lindsay breaks away from her reverie, wanting to “get out and beat on car roofs until the road (is) clear” but resorts to using the in-car bullhorn with her best cop voice: “Move your vehicles. Pull over now!”

We started and stopped as cars stalled trying to climb over one another, the seconds dragging until we cleared the jam.

Cars were climbing over each other, panicking, ignoring the commands of their human masters.  Conklin finally makes it to the crime scene.  Lindsay makes “a path through the crowd” of freaked out mall shoppers “with (her) badge” – presumably like a shovel or a plow.  Officer Joe Sorbero fills her in:

“Deja vu all over again,” Joe said.

Despite this Yogi-ism, they make their way through the subterranean world of the mall parking garage where their zombie boss, Jacobi, awaits.

I braced myself for what Jacobi had described as a “horror show.” We found him talking with Chief Anthony Tracchio on the third-floor landing. The chief’s face was blanched, and Jacobi’s hooded eyes were drawn almost closed, both men looking as though they’d peered over the abyss into the devil’s own lair.

Finally we get a bit of vivid imagery I can relate to!  This whole book, this project, is like looking over the abyss into the devil’s own lair.  And he lives in Florida in a 20,000 sq.ft. mansion.

“Were there any witnesses?” I asked. It was more a small, doomed wish than a question.

“No,” Jacobi said. “No one saw or heard a fucking thing.”

Didn’t you mean “frickin'”?
Go to Day 39.

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7 comments on “117 Days of James Patterson – Day Thirty-Eight

  1. aaryn b.
    June 5, 2010

    I don't need g-forces to rip my eyeballs out. I pretty much do that thinking about how successful this guy is.

    He must have done something really, really awful in a previous life.

  2. Amy
    June 6, 2010

    Wow, he used the real word instead of frickin'? How does that factor in to the running tally?

    Also, yes, definitely separated at birth.

  3. Seth Marko
    June 6, 2010

    The g-forces generated from turning the pages so fast have ripped my eyeballs out. Or maybe I just gouged them out, I can't remember, I blacked out.

  4. Reggie Style
    June 11, 2010

    You are all a bunch of pop-bottle-and-scouring-pad wackadoos, Patterson included.

  5. Nate
    June 11, 2010

    Why do so many of these senior law enforcement officials — presumably veterans of at least a couple of decades — so shook up at every crime scene? They're pale, sweaty, personally rattled to the core and describing each scene in superlatives. Is a dead baby REALLY the worst they've ever seen in the course of all their investigations?

  6. Nate
    June 11, 2010

    Let's make the first two words of that previous post “Why are…”

  7. Bookjunk
    October 11, 2015

    I'm wondering the exact same thing. I mean, I can imagine even seasoned cops being upset by seeing the body of a murdered kid, but the cops in this drivel constantly behave as if they've never seen a shooting victim before.

    And why are they speeding to the crime scene? That's only necessary if a crime is in progress or if the suspect is still thought to be around.

    I'm so tired of this book already and I'm not even reading it.

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This entry was posted on June 5, 2010 by in 117 Days of James Patterson.
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