Peter S. Fischer - Me and Murder, She Wrote

Books By Peter S. Fischer

The Blood of Tyrants

The Terror of Tyrants

The Hollywood Murder Mysteries

Jezebel in Blue Satin

We Dont Need No Stinking Badges

Love Has Nothing to Do With It

Everybody Wants An Oscar

The Unkindness of Strangers

Nice Guys Finish Dead

Pray For Us Sinners

Has Anybody Here Seen Wyckham?

Eyewitness to Murder

A Deadly Shoot in Texas

Me and Murder, She Wrote

Copyright 2013 by Peter S. Fischer

All rights reserved.

Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976,
no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted
in any form or by any means, or stored in a data base or retrieval system,
without prior written permission of the publisher.

ISBN 978-0-9886571-3-7

For Lucillewho was with me all the Way

and for Geoffwithout whom there

would have been no Way

... Trivia Teasers ...

At the end of each chapter you will find a fun trivia question. See how well you do and no peeking at the answers which you will find on page 230.

PREFACE

This book is dedicated to the dreamers, to those who, as a child, had a secret ambition, a deeply buried desire they may have shared with no one. We are all dreamers to a certain extent. We all have ambitions for a good life, a good marriage, perhaps children, good health, good friends and, if possible, tranquility. Im not talking about that. Im talking about the dream. Im talking about the freckle-faced kid in Pop Warner who wants to be the next Tom Brady. Or the lanky 12 year old taking his first lesson who suddenly wants to be a right-handed Phil Mickelson. Or the little girl in pigtails and braces on her teeth who dreams of standing on the stage at the Oscars clutching her award, tears streaming down her face. Im talking about the so-called impossible dream.

Maybe its something very ordinary. Would you like to be a five-star chef, perhaps not famous, but working at something you love? How about an illustrator of childrens books? A photographer? An architect? Would you feel fulfilled as a veterinarian, caring for sick and injured animals? Maybe a lumberjack out in the sun and fresh air instead of being cooped up in a stuffy office nine hours a day.

Many people in this world, far too many, settle for what they believe is attainable without testing the limits of their ability. Many choose a humdrum job because it provides security. Or a pressure cooker job which provides wealth while tearing away at body and soul. Did you ever stop to think that maybe Mike, your mail carrier, might have once dreamed of owning a small dairy farm somewhere, of being his own boss and enjoying the freedom that comes with it? Be honest. How many people do you know that get up in the morning, smiling, ready to take on the world, because they are working at something they love? And how many do you know who are merely going through the motions?

When I was five years old, I had a dream. I wanted to tell stories. I wanted to be a writer. I had learned to read when I was three. I went through kiddie books voraciously. Nothing made me happier. As soon as I could put words together semi-coherently I started writing little stories. One page. A half-page. Maybe even a novel-sized two pages. As I grew older I discovered radio and movies, scenes and dialogue. Prose was okay, drama was even better. I attended The Johns Hopkins University because they had a department devoted to Writing, Speech & Drama.

But fate took a hand. I got married at a young age to a lovely young lady who stole my heart and we had three beautiful children in three years. Given that, I needed to make a living. The dream, though not forgotten, was shoved to one side. The years slid by. I kept writing at my desk in my den but time was always in short supply. I was writing and writing and I think, getting better and better. I refused to abandon hope. I knew if I did, as much as I loved my family, the rest of my life would become a dreary journey to the coffin.

At the age of 35, my life turned around and through a fortuitous set of circumstances, I was given the chance to pursue that childhood dream. Yes, luck had a lot to do with it but when my break came, I was ready to take advantage of it. I spent the next thirty years living a life I never would have thought possible.

So all you dreamers out there, this book is for you, and particularly those of you who may have given up and settled for a great deal less. Never got to play shortstop for the Dodgers? How about opening a sporting goods store and spending your free time coaching Little League or working as an umpire. Failed to hit it big on Broadway? There are little theater groups in every town in America. High schools and junior colleges need drama teachers and coaches. Do you shoot golf in the low 70s but never got good enough to make the tour, even a local one. I know an avid golfer who spent a year learning how to make custom golf clubs. Now he earns his living at it.

Whatever that dream was, if you are stuck in a boring, humdrum job you hate, reconsider your options. You get one whirl around this planet. Dont toss it away. If you care enough and work hard enough, anything is possible.

A word of warning. I am not an archivist. I do not save letters and I have never kept a journal or any sort of diary. What you will read in these pages is totally dependent upon my memory which has not yet deteriorated into porridge. Nonetheless, while I promise you that my reminiscences are 99% accurate, there may be places where I have included the wrong person in a meeting or my chronology is slightly bollixed. This is the way I remember it and it is pretty damn close to the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

If You Are A Writer, Then Write

Someone recently asked me if I was ever going to write my autobiography and I said, no, I wasnt. First of all, no one is going to care and secondly, its a lot like work. Thirdly, my life is jam-packed with many incidents and personal things I would just as soon keep private besides the fact that they would probably bore you to tears. But it did occur to me that I might have a couple of experiences worth relating to would-be writers, especially those who might be on the brink of giving up. Bad idea, and if you really are a writer, totally incomprehensible. If you have paper, pen and a brain, you write. Everything else is immaterial. Now, if you are talking about writing professionally, that is something else again. That will require not only talent but a certain amount of luck.