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Revision of Justice |
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Hardcover publisher: Doubleday (1997) Paperback Publisher: Bantam (1999) Price (paperback): US $5.99/ $8.99 CAN ISBN (paperback): 0-553-57533-3 When reporter Alexandra Templeton drags Benjamin Justice to a party thrown by a legendary Hollywood screenwriting instructor, they stumble into the murder of Reza Jafari, a young, wannabe screenwriter with more enemies that completed scripts. The prime suspect is the victim’s roommate, Danny Romero, a young man who will die of AIDS in jail, unless Justice can solve the mystery first, and allow Danny the dignified death he desperately wants. Among the other suspects: a macho Australian action director, with his own dark secrets and a career in decline; a former starlet, now the voluptuous widow of a recently deceased studio executive, who has a good reason to want the victim dead; a high-powered female agent, as button-downed and driven as she is deceptive; a Persian restaurant owner, the victim’s devoutly Muslim father, who has a troubling violent streak; and an up-and-coming lesbian film producer, as tough as she is smart. His search for clues takes Justice into musty Hollywood film archives, and between the lines of several screenplays, while putting his own life in grave danger. After the murder of an elderly screenwriter who used Reza Jafari as a younger "front" to pitch his scripts, the murder plot shifts into high gear, propelling Justice and Templeton into a raging fire that consumes the Hollywood Hills, burning steadily toward the famous Hollywood Sign -- and the identity of a cold-blooded killer. "A tightly-paced page-turner...must reading for all mystery fans."-- Booklist (starred review) "A complex mystery with a million characters and enticing dialogue."-- Los Angeles Times, Westside Weekly "A stark, absorbing and seemingly authentic tour of the Hollywood
fringes."-- Publisher’s Weekly Excerpt from REVISION OF JUSTICE: Alexandra Templeton and I made our way up the narrow, twisting streets of Beachwood Canyon, toward a party I didn't want to go to, on a night, like most, when I wanted to be left alone.In the distance, lighted brightly against the dark hills, the Hollywood Sign looked as innocent as a picture post card. "Promise me you'll try to have a good time, Justice." She stretched out a slim brown arm and opened her pink palm to catch the passing breeze. "You know I don't make promises I can't keep, Templeton." Her sly brown eyes slid in my direction. "Then at least promise me you won't try to have a bad time." "You're asking a lot this evening." She smiled a little, which made her more beautiful than she already was. Then she closed her eyes and tipped back her head, letting her black braids hang free and the warm air bathe her long, slender neck. With each turn in the road, the letters spelling out H-O-L-L-Y-W-O-O-D loomed bigger and brighter across the canyon, a prized snapshot for the passing tourist, a beacon of hope for the lost and lonely. Then the famous landmark disappeared as we hit a stretch of road that ran straight for what looked like half a mile. I pressed down on the gas pedal, and the old Mustang rose like a slow rocket leaving behind a sea of city lights. She grew quiet, which was usually my role. "Thinking about Whatshisname?" Her eyes remained closed, her lips pressed together. "We don't have to talk about him, if you don't want to." "Why so curious, Justice?" "Just making conversation." "Frankly, he's not worth it." "You sound a little pissed off." "We dated for a few months. I caught him two-timing me. It's history." "I never liked the guy much, anyway. Terrible choice on your part." She opened her eyes and sat up, suddenly full of sass. "You only met him twice, Justice. Of course, for a recluse like you, that's a deep friendship." When I didn't say anything, her mood shifted again, losing some of its spunk. "What was so bad about him, anyway? That is, before I discovered he was a deceitful, two-timing sonofabitch." "I didn't like the way he was always flaunting his heterosexuality." She smiled serenely. "Mmmm. I did." "So you do miss him." She sighed, settled back and stared out the pitted windshield, across the rust-ravaged hood. "It's nice when you have someone in your life you care about. Instead of just your work." "At least you've got that." I had the top down and we could hear dogs barking from the deep shadows of the canyon and the desolate tinkle of music from one of the houses that clung awkwardly to the hillsides like would-be suicides waiting to jump. I'd always found the canyons above Los Angeles to be lonely places, and liked them for that. Templeton considered them picturesque and romantic. We saw a lot of things differently. Maybe it was because I
had more than a dozen years on her, and had seen things, both as a reporter and
a man, that she hadn't yet seen even in her worst nightmares. Or maybe I was
just a jaded ex-reporter who drank too much and spent too much time feeling
sorry for himself.
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