Ripped Genes by Larry Rothstein
A little bit about Author Lawrence E. Rothstein…
As an academic, I wrote many published scholarly pieces including a book and book chapters. I started writing mystery/legal scenarios as hypothetical cases for law courses I taught. I get my ideas from the news, particularly legal news, my previous legal work, areas of academic research, and other detective stories.With regard to Venetian Bind, my travels to Venice enthralled me with its atmosphere. In Ripped Genes, I utilized ideas from my academic research into the legal aspects of genetic technology. My detectives are based in Chicago where I was born and raised.
This is Author Lawrence E. Rothstein’s writing and publication journey in his own words…
Inspiration to start writing…
I love to read mysteries, particularly those with recurring characters. I have been working on mystery fiction since 2012. When I write, my recurring characters come first and then the case plots that those characters would find interesting and for which my detectives would be sought after by clients. I always have some ideas of where the case is going, what procedures would be followed from my legal experience, and some scenes or minor characters I would like to include, often for humor. But it is my detectives who seem to inspire scenes and activities that show off their particular virtues and personalities as the investigations proceed.
Ripped Genes Blurb
In Ripped Genes, Tri-Star Investigations mystery #2, I introduce Desmond St. Clair, chef, tech expert, and former British SAS commando who joins Marko Korb, the fat, egotistical, and brilliant detective and his associate, Kelan Su, a Chinese American woman, former Chicago police officer, licensed attorney, and martial arts expert.
Alan Scanlon, a medical scientist, head of the Shabel Institute, fraudulently patented and restricted research on the gene for the rare genetic disease, feraxia. Golda Merino, the mother of a child with feraxia and head of a group that supported Scanlon’s research is charged with Scanlon’s murder. The Tri-Star Investigations trio work with Attorney Cheryl Dain defending Golda. The detectives must discover the killer while negotiating Chicago’s underworld and politics.
One of Lawrence’s favourite scenes from Ripped Genes…
As I reached the door, it opened and Ron stood, holding it with a wide grin on his rugged face. The usual unruly strand of curly black hair had slipped down above his right eye.
“Kelan, it’s been too long. Miss ya. I guess you didn’t have any Skokie cases to pump me about.”
I exhaled and grimaced. Didn’t want to admit that he was right. But I also thought it was safer not to see him too often. “Ron, it’s good to see you.” I stepped up to him and gave him a peck on the cheek. He put his hand on my shoulder as he ushered me in. I felt an electric charge down my back.
He directed me to his small, cluttered office. At least it had good natural light and a nice view of Laramie Park to the east. He pointed to a chair for me and went around to sit behind his desk. I sat down and leaned back, assuming a casual pose. Ron rubbed his chin, looked down at his desk, then up at me, and asked, “To what do I owe this ‘official’ visit?”
When his intense, dark eyes met mine, I couldn’t suppress a quick intake of breath, belying my attempt at nonchalance. Why did we break up? Of course, I knew the answer. We loved our careers and couldn’t see how they would mesh.
I held Ron’s penetrating gaze for a long moment prior to speaking. I needed to regain my composure. I leaned forward and put my hands on his desk.
“You must know that Korb and I are working for Golda Merino’s lawyer regarding the Scanlon murder,” I began.
Ron nodded slightly without breaking his eye contact.
“But did you know that McGovern dropped the charges?”
Ron was only slightly taken aback by that news. “Well, in truth, I was surprised and annoyed when the SA moved so quickly to bring charges against Ms. Merino. Our investigation was just beginning. We did not recommend charging. Frankly, I found it hard to believe that Ms. Merino was a murderer. But you never know for sure what someone will do under extreme stress. I’ve been wrong before.”
There was something more Ron was not saying. “And did you think that there was something unsavory going on at the institute?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But your cop instincts did?”
Ron raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. I took that as a ‘yes’.
“How is your investigation progressing?”
Ron was again silent for a long moment. “It’s not,” he said, almost too softly for me to hear.
“So the dropping of charges was no surprise to you. Do you suspect that there is something big political or federal going on behind the scenes? Have you been warned off?”
Ron leaned back, looked up at the ceiling, and exhaled deeply. “I am not at liberty to say,” he said with a crooked smile on his lips.
Again, it was a tacit yes. The good cop that he was strongly resented being aced out of the inquiry and having to bow to politicians and the feds. This gave me the opening I needed.
“Well, we are still on the case. Golda fears later charges and wants to clear her name. What can you tell me about your investigation so far? Can I look at your file? I would really like to see any reports and pictures from the crime scene, information on the weapon, autopsy reports, time and cause of death, physical evidence, info on Scanlon’s car that exited the industrial park after his death.”
“You know I can’t give you all of that. Now that there are no charges against your client and no court case, you aren’t entitled to that stuff,” Ron said, cocking his head to the right and turning up his palms.
Again, I read the gestures as meaning “Let me see what I can do.”
He thought for a moment, pulled a file from under the stack on his desk, opened it, nodded and dropped it back on the desk. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” he said. “Excuse me for a few minutes. I think I’ll need to brew a fresh pot.” He got up, took a long look down at the file on his desk, and left the office, closing the door behind him.
As soon as the door banged shut, I grabbed the file and opened it. I laid out as many of the pages on the floor as I could get within the focus of my phone camera and snapped. If someone came in, I would say that the file slipped off the desk and the pages spilled out. I did another layout and then another. That pretty much covered the entire file. I thanked God for my almost photographic memory in which I etched a couple of the police reports regarding the vehicle and the weapon. I just had enough time to scoop the pages back into the file folder when I heard a soft knock on the door. I stood to open it as Ron was carrying two coffee cups. I took one.
