By way of incipit, here is the opening of his _A Perfectly
Proper
Murder_, the most recent one I've read (I think there are two
more):
--------------
I was born and raised in Corden, a town of 1,351 people, and
have always
been most comfortable in places that size. There are
thirty-two burgs
between one thousand and two thousand in the state, so I
figured if I
worked steady and moved often, I could paint signs in every
one of them
before winter.
That's how I came to be in Podunkville when Basil Ecke got
smacked in
the kisser with a metal rod that caught him under the nose
and on the
rise, knocking that little bone up into his brain like a dart
and
killing him quick as an icepick in the ear.
-------------
Apologies to those who dislike long posts - for reasons
unrelated to
harboiled literature, I have been quite interested in
incipits, and I
just let my mind go whichever way it wanted. By the way, the
state to
which Wilcox refers above is South Dakota. Apparently, Carl
Wilcox is
based on an eccentric uncle of Adams's.
Regards,
MT
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