The Getaway Car

by Donald E. Westlake

  Fucking busybody.

  Well, Nieman-Marcus did not laugh it off, so I have now signed 1,046 big thick labels that won’t fool anybody, that have to be inserted into the existing books down there in Dallas by a lot of illegal immigrant slave labor that never before in their lives have been asked to line up two pieces of paper and make sure they’re both right side up.

  Kee-rist on a crutch,

  Don

  TO DAVID RAMUS

  This is Westlake’s response to the the first part of the manuscript of what would become Ramus’s first novel, On Ice.—Ed.

  September 29, 1998

  Dear David,

  I finally got to read the ms. I had to go to New York Sunday, coming back Monday, and I read it on the trains, which is where I seem to do most of my reading.

  Your primary question is whether or not your hero is believable with the background you gave him, and the answer is yes. I had no trouble accepting that. Who he used to be as an art maven doesn’t show.

  However. You could improve the portrayal a bit, I think, and you have to beef up one part of his motivation. Before I get to it, let me tell you briefly about my first editor, Lee Wright at Random House, who is still the best editor I ever had. She told me once that she would never say something was wrong in a novel unless she could make a suggestion for an alternate way, not to say “do it this way” but to say “there’s more than one way, here’s a second, maybe here’s a third.” So I’m following her dictum, making suggestions for illustration only.

  I think you can improve the reader’s grasp of Ben Hemmings by having other people say what they think of him. Not a lot, maybe two or three times in the book. But for instance, when Grace, on the boat, tells him he doesn’t look like an ex-con, he could ask her what do I look like, and she could say something along the lines of “You look like a carnival roughneck, but a nice one, who’d let a poor kid sneak in.” But earlier than that, possibly with Grantham, who could tell him how he’d look to a jury.

  The other thing is, toward the latter part of what I read, his motivation seemed to be to get the five mil, and if that happens, you lose the reader’s sympathy. The motivation is to get out from under. If he gets out with a lot of money, that’s nice, but the point is to get out. He could tell us, but not Black, for instance, that if he fails to get the money but still gets out from under, that’s okay, too, though he knows that might make Black unhappy.

  Next point. If you tell us something twice, it’s a plot plant. When Black mentions that FBI men never work alone but Partone is working alone, that’s the second time I’ve been told that, and now I know Partone is a rogue, not doing the government’s work but his own.

  Now a minor point. We all do clinkers from time to time, and yours is on page 22, eighth line from the bottom. I think what you want to say is “I could count on my fingers the number of times she cried.”

  Now I also think you need to do a little tweaking of story procedure, how you unfold it for us. Page 52 was way too late to introduce a flashback and then let the flashback wander. You say you’re going to tell us about the first time Ben met Dana, and then you tell us a bunch of other stuff for eight pages. I am very impatient during all this. I don’t mind leaving prison to go to court, but if I’m leaving court, by this point in the story I want to get back to prison. My suggestion here is, make the flashback a separate chapter, make it Chapter 4, then juke the other even-numbered chapters forward until it’s realigned. (It wouldn’t be quite that easy, of course, it would take some reconstructive surgery, but I do believe it would help.)

  I wanted to tell you that the business about the prison phone is just terrific. Terrific.

  Now a tiny moment when you nodded. On page 99 Ben looks at the watch he wasn’t wearing on 97 when McGee searched him.

  Finally, I have one absolute objection. We do not overhear plot points. No no no. He just happens to be standing here when somebody standing over there says the stuff he needed to know. No. But if Ben wanted to know what was going on, and felt it was important, he could put himself at risk to deliberately eavesdrop. Almost get caught.

  Anyway, it’s a lovely devious book, and I’m looking forward to reading the rest of it and seeing it in print. And don’t worry about Ben; I’d hire him to build me a barn any day.

  Don

  In his grateful reply, Ramus wrote, “I had to hold the ms in one hand because I was busy slapping my forehead with the other. I was also muttering, ‘Of course . . . Of course. . . ’ ”—Ed.

  TO PAM VESEY

  Pam Vesey was the copyeditor for M. Evans and Company working on Brothers Keepers.—Ed.

  February 24, 1975

  Dear Pam,

  I don’t intend to get into a thing here like Brian with his commas, but I do want to rise to say a word or two for the semicolon. It does exist as a tool of punctuation in written English prose, and is just as respectable as any other piece of punctuation you can think of; goes to church on Sundays and all the rest of it.

  In fact, my Random House Dictionary goes so far as to define it. “The punctuation mark used to indicate a major division in a sentence where a more distinct separation is felt between clauses or items on a list than is indicated by a comma, as between the two clauses of a compound sentence.”

  I point out in that definition the phrase “is felt,” and I suggest that the individual doing the feeling is presumed to be the writer. I point out the phrase “more distinct separation,” and I suggest that the purpose of the semicolon is at least in part rhythmic.

  My own rhythms tend to be long ones, and I grant you that as a result I tend to over-use the semicolon, but some of them are right, and in most instances (in this book and others) the copyeditor’s alternative is less correct. Breaking the offending sentence into two sentences is grammatically correct but often rhythmically wrong. Replacing the semicolon with a colon is correct only if a list or a new sentence follows the punctuation, in which case (a) I would probably have used a colon myself, and (b) a double space should follow, as it follows a period. Replacing the colon with a dash is never right, since dashes, except in speech—in which they indicate a break in the flow—must always appear in pairs. The function of the dash in ordinary prose is identical to—but less formal than—the function of the parenthesis.

  Why does everybody hate the poor semicolon? It’s nice; it’s useful; it’s even rather pretty.

  Second topic. I have added a page to the very end of the book. It didn’t seem right to end on a downer, so I brought Brother Benedict home and showed him happy. (The new material contains a semicolon; it has orders to call me if anybody gives it any trouble.)

  Yours in Strunk,

  Don

  TO GARY SALT

  What follows are selections from Don’s correspondence with his West Coast agent, Gary Salt.—Ed.

  July 22, 1994

  Dear Gary,

  Personally, I’ve always found Sherlock Holmes a self-important, humorless drug addict, a Henry Higgins without redeeming features, and I also believe he was wrong half the time.

  Don

  March 10, 1995

  Dear Gary,

  So it’s Dawn Powell’s fifteen minutes, is it? Well deserved. My favorite quote from her, re her writing method: “I give my characters their heads. They provide their own nooses.” We know people who knew her, and I believe Abby met her a few times. So I was delighted when I saw Locusts being considered.

  Alas, no. There’s no good movie in there, though some callow youth might find a bad one; Winona Ryder and Brad Pitt dressing up in their parents’ clothes again. The problem is, her books were never plot driven, and they weren’t even character driven. They were attitude driven, and nothing staledates faster than attitude (except politics, of course). A mournful pass.

  Don

  TO HENRY MORRISON

  Henry Morrison had been Westlake’s agent, but at this point Westlake was unrepresented.—Ed.

  March 28, 2005

  Dear
Henry,

  Here I go again, breaking a cardinal rule in the freelance writer’s sacred oath: putting a little something on paper for free. Well, at least it’s a first draft.

  Our lunch was not only very pleasant, but also very useful. I’ve always enjoyed your skill at changing the subject, and I particularly liked it this time. To rid ourselves quickly of the topic I brought in with me, Richard Dannay agreed I should stay with Tuttle-Mori and let the comic book lie in limbo, at least for now. So I e-mailed here and there in Japan and did nothing about the comic, but will say “not now” if he resurfaces.

  Now to the sequel. I had to think longer and harder on that. What is my five-year plan? Is Warner Books a part of it? Are you a part of it? What, at this point, do I want?

  You may be right—in fact I’m sure you’re right—that opportunities have been missed in forwarding my career, particularly after The Ax but also at other nexi—can that be right?—here and there. Do I now try to recapture a moment and take a different fork in the road? Is that possible? Is it worth it?

  I am not rich, but I am comfortable, and see no reason for that to change, so economics can’t drive me the way it did when I was elbow deep in growing children. Whatever my position may be in the writing world is pretty well fixed, I believe; the reputation and the glory are unlikely to alter much, unless I write a glowing biography of Osama Bin Laden. So, much more than earlier in my life, it’s a dealer’s choice.

  One reason why The Ax didn’t change things, and Kahawa didn’t change things, and Humans didn’t change things, is that I am not consistent. Can you imagine Wodehouse writing any of those three? Can you imagine Jonathan Franzen writing the Dortmunder novels? No publisher can count on me, because I can’t help myself; I follow what interests me. And that—new scents to follow—has slowed a bit of late.

  I’m still earning in the screen world. I’ve done one thing this year and have been asked to do a screenplay to a Heinrich Boll novel which I’ll do if the deal is right. I want, on the other side, to finish the Stark novel that’s been giving me trouble, then do whatever occurs to me to complete the Westlake contract with Warner, then not commit myself at all. Do whatever comes next, make the best deal I can for it, and go on. When the time comes, I’ll fire a warning shot across your bow and we’ll see if you’re interested. Until then, I appreciate the time and the advice. Thank you.

  Don

  TO JON L. BREEN

  Jon L. Breen is editor of Murder Off the Rack: Critical Studies of Ten Paperback Masters, to which Westlake contributed the essay on Peter Rabe.—Ed.

  December 10, 1986

  Dear Mr. Breen,

  A lot of work for no money. As my agent, Knox Burger assures me, this is the kind of offer I seem unable to resist. “Okay,” as Joseph Cotten said in The Third Man, “I’ll be your dumb decoy duck.” He was a writer, too.

  However, I am a mere grazer on the lower slopes of the lit biz, so you’ll have to explain a couple of things to me, such as:

  What is MLA format?

  What is a Sherlockian-type speculation? “I think this is Turkish tobacco.” Like that, you mean?

  I’ve started rereading Rabe, and by golly he was good, and if I can find out why his career ended so shortly after it began I’ll include that in the piece. Critically, of course, not descriptively.

  By the way, I mentioned to Coe and Stark that your wife Rita doesn’t like their books. Coe cried, but Stark left the house and I haven’t seen him since. Maybe you ought to mention this to Rita.

  Don

  THIRTEEN

  JOBS NEVER PULLED

  Title Ideas

  In his files Westlake kept typed lists of title ideas, divided into crime titles and comic crime titles. Over the years, a few were struck through as they were used; fans will notice that Westlake also struck out one title, Dead of Night, that he never used.—Ed.

  CRIME TITLES

  Nobody Runs Forever

  Death of the Party

  Long Shot

  The Mannequin

  Crossfire

  Cry of Alarm

  Blind Spot

  Clay Pigeon

  Cloak and Dagger

  Lady in the Mirror

  Blind Alley

  Checkmate

  Fair Warning

  Fatal Lady

  The Final Night

  Dark Angel

  Hideout

  Dead Wire

  Crack Shot

  Cross Purposes

  Danger Sign

  The Bolt from the Blue

  Riddle Me This

  Slaying Song

  The Other Side of the Night

  Died in the Wool

  Delegate at Large

  Dead of Night

  Never Say Die

  Night Hawk

  Quick Money

  The Night Riders

  Walk a Crooked Mile

  Ride a Crooked Mile

  Ready Money

  Trouble Ahead

  Sudden Money

  Wake Up and Die

  Whipsaw

  The Wrong Road

  Dead Cinch

  Gun Money

  The Long Pursuit

  Seven Men and a Bank

  Dark Glitter

  After Midnight

  All the Past Is Here

  Beyond the Night

  Borrower of the Night

  City of Night

  Clash by Night

  The Dark Backward

  Corkscrew

  Deadly Night

  Here Lies Yesterday

  In No Time

  Into the Night

  Lonely Again

  Night Hawk

  Nobody Runs Forever

  Old Times

  The Other Side of the Night

  Out of the Night

  Past and Gone

  The Road Back

  The Story of the Night

  Yesterday Is Here

  Whirligig

  Back to the Wall

  Afternoon Women

  Cry for the Moon

  Fair Dame

  Not Yet, But Soon

  The Fifth Down

  Sudden Laughter

  The Maiden All Forlorn

  Wit’s End

  Man Here Says He Has a Gun

  The Lady Tries Her Luck

  Harlequinade

  The Trumpets of Liliput

  The Seamster and the Teamtress

  Comeback

  All Fools in a Circle

  Mouse among the Cats

  Hard and Fast

  Free and Easy

  Escapade

  Kaleidoscope

  Flying Colors

  Road Story

  Ill Met by Moonlight

  The Road Back

  The White Silence

  Safety in Numbers

  COMIC CRIME TITLES

  Kid Stuff

  Babes in the Wood

  Hammer and Tongs

  The Plot Thickens

  Smart Alex

  The Deuce

  Through Thin

  Winking Streak

  Oops

  Off the Hook

  Wit’s End

  Out of the Jaws of Victory

  All of Life is 6 to 5 Against

  Don’t Make Me Laugh

  The State of the Art

  Another Day, Another Dolor

  The Scared Stiff

  The Farmer in the Well

  The Crookbook

  Too Many Crooks

  League of Rogues

  Crook’s Tour

  A Crooked Smile

  The Babbling Crooks

  Crook Your Little Finger

  A Crooked Stile

  The Shepherd’s Crook

  The Crook of the Month Club

  Crook Burning

  A Lean and Hungry Crook

  Crooked Circle

  Crook in the Ice

  The Crook of Doom

  The Crook on the Hearth

  Jiminy Croo
ked

  A Crook in Time

  Thick as Thieves

  Question Time

  Miscreant’s Way

  False Profits

  No Score

  On the Bend

  Worse Than a Crime

  The Soft-Boiled Yegg

  Idle Hands

  Sticky Fingers

  Rough Stuff

  Publish, and Be Damned

  Black and Blue and Read All Over

  Read Me

  FOURTEEN

  DEATH ROW (OR, THE HAPPILY EVER AFTERLIFE

  Letter to Ralph L. Woods

  Westlake often received letters from writers assembling anthologies or journalists writing articles that asked his opinion on a specific question—like Ray Broekel’s question about chocolate bars found earlier in this book. As they were perfect occasions for joking, he couldn’t resist answering. The letter below, to Ralph L. Woods, was written in response to a question about the afterlife.—Ed.

  October 7, 1975

  Dear Mr. Woods:

  The last time I thought deeply I got the bends. If I ran into Socrates, for instance, I’d be likely only to want to ask him what hemlock tastes like; potentially useful information, if people write books in the afterlife. And if they don’t write books, what’s the point?

  Nobody has ever been able to describe for me what the afterlife is beyond the simple continuation of existence. Does personality continue? If so, then Heaven can’t very well be heavenly. Who am I if I’m not working on a book? The afterlife sounds to me to have much the same quality as a prefrontal lobotomy.

  Therefore, if I am to assume life after death, and if I am to further assume that the me over there would still be recognizably me, then I would like to meet O. Henry, Mark Twain, Ambrose Bierce and Dashiell Hammett, sit down with a bottle of beer—I won’t be on a diet then—and talk shop for a century or two. After that, I’d like to go off with Robert Benchley and look for girls.

  Sincerely yours,

  Donald E. Westlake

  NOTES

  Two: Donald E. Westlake, A.K.A . . .

  * From The New York Times, January 29, 2001, © 2001 The New York Times. All rights reserved. Used by permission and protected by the Copyright Laws of the United States. The printing, copying, redistribution, or retransmission of this Content without express written permission is prohibited.