Mr. Smith and the Roach by J.J. DiBenedetto
Release date: November 26, 2018
Subgenre: Hard-boiled Mystery, Urban Fantasy
About Mr. Smith and the Roach:
John Smith has a problem. He’s a retired cop whose pension just got
wiped out, and he doesn’t know why or how. Now he needs to find a
roommate to help pay the bills.
Sam has a problem. He’s a six-foot-tall talking cockroach and he doesn’t know who created him, or why, or how. Now he needs a place to live.
Thrown together as roommates and amateur detectives, Mr. Smith and the Roach realize their problems might be related.
But those problems are far more complicated than they imagined, and before all is said and done, they’ll run afoul of a Russian gangster, an imprisoned Mafia don, a crooked Wall Street banker, a mad scientist and, maybe worst of all, Mr. Smith’s baby sister.
Can they get to the bottom of an unbelievable plot before someone exterminates the Roach – and Mr. Smith – for good?
Sam has a problem. He’s a six-foot-tall talking cockroach and he doesn’t know who created him, or why, or how. Now he needs a place to live.
Thrown together as roommates and amateur detectives, Mr. Smith and the Roach realize their problems might be related.
But those problems are far more complicated than they imagined, and before all is said and done, they’ll run afoul of a Russian gangster, an imprisoned Mafia don, a crooked Wall Street banker, a mad scientist and, maybe worst of all, Mr. Smith’s baby sister.
Can they get to the bottom of an unbelievable plot before someone exterminates the Roach – and Mr. Smith – for good?
Excerpt:
John was at a loss. There was something very off about Sam, but
he couldn’t pin down what it might be.
While he chatted with the man on the drive back into Manhattan, his
subconscious mind worked the problem; he’d always been able to multitask like
that in his days on the force. But no
revelations were forthcoming, and all he could do in the end was chalk it up to
unease at the idea of having to share his apartment at all.
That changed when Sam found a parking space
on 88th St., just a block and a half from his - their –
building. He switched off the ignition
and turned to John. “Before we go any
further, there’s something I need to tell you.
I hope it won’t change anything, but what I’m about to say – some people
can get past it, but unfortunately not everyone takes it very well.”
So that was it. John couldn’t see why Sam was so
worried. This was 2018, and it was New
York City. “You don’t need to say
anything more. I don’t care. Not a bit.
So what if you’re gay?”
Sam stared at him, with those weird
eyes. The pupils, what there was of
them, were almost red, now that he really looked at them. And then the man laughed. “You think – oh, that is good! You really have no idea, do you?” John didn’t.
He just sat in the passenger seat, staring at eyes that he’d almost call
inhuman, and a mouth that didn’t really seem to have anything in the way of
teeth. And then Sam took off his hat.
***
Up until five minutes ago, John had never,
not once in his life, fainted. Not even
on his very first case as a rookie, twenty-three years old and fresh out of the
Academy, when he’d walked into the aftermath of a “business dispute” between
the Gambino and Bonanno families.
“John?
Are you all right?”
No.
He was not all right. He was
obviously suffering from some sort of psychotic break, because there was a
giant insect sitting in the driver’s seat of this car, offering him a bottle of
water, and that couldn’t possibly be real.
Or, he could have been drugged, although his head seemed clear, and he
didn’t seem to be experiencing any of the other effects he’d expect to feel
from any of the most common illegal drugs.
“What did you give me?”
The insect looked at him with what John
would have sworn was concern, except insects couldn’t feel anything like
that. “Nothing, John. I just took off my hat and you – you passed
out for a moment. So I went to the hot
dog cart around the corner and bought some water for you. It seemed the best thing to do.”
The insect was talking. They couldn’t do that, either. They also didn’t wear clothes, and even the
biggest insects he’d ever read about – the weird bugs that lived in
rainforests, or wherever – didn’t get bigger than a few inches long. This one was around six feet tall. “What did you do with Sam?”
The insect laughed. Something else they didn’t do. “I am Sam.
This,” he gestured to himself with an ungloved hand, which wasn’t a hand
at all, now John saw it properly, “is what I was going to tell you about. Everything I told you today is true. I do need an apartment, and I am working on a
book, and I would very much like to help you find out what really happened to
your old partner and help out his wife.
I just left out one thing. As you
can see, I’m not a human being.”
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About J.J. DiBenedetto:
J.J. DiBenedetto
is author of the Dream Series and the Jane Barnaby Adventures and lives in
Arlington, Virginia with the love of his life and a white cat who rules the
roost.
His passions are photography, travel, the opera, the New York Giants, and of course writing.
Mr. DiBenedetto is devoted to writing books with a sense of mysticism to entertain and perhaps invite his readers to suspend belief in a way they might never have.
Since he was very young, he has always been intrigued with the supernatural and things that can't be explained rationally.
His passions are photography, travel, the opera, the New York Giants, and of course writing.
Mr. DiBenedetto is devoted to writing books with a sense of mysticism to entertain and perhaps invite his readers to suspend belief in a way they might never have.
Since he was very young, he has always been intrigued with the supernatural and things that can't be explained rationally.
Thanks so much for having me here today!
ReplyDeleteYou're welcome, James.
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