“A Mysterious Review”
By Mort Laitner
Holding my cell, I logged in and looked at the Messages icon. I saw a “1” resting next to the empty, white speech balloon. I tapped on the balloon and read:
“Mort, your book has made me laugh harder than any book I have ever read. My heart goes out to the Holocaust survivors for my great grandmother was among them. But, the gardening and the Jellyfish stories made me forget the horrors that were painted in my head.”
I scratched my head.
The reader got it!
My attempt to balance the horrors of the camps my dad suffered through with the humorous parts of my life.
Wow, those sweet thirteen words were music to my ears—not to mention my ego. “Your book made me laugh harder than any book I have ever read.”
I hoped this person had read a lot of funny books.
I hoped this wasn’t a friend goofing on me.
I hoped this person published the review on Amazon.
Who was this adoring fan? I had to know!
He or she was young—with a great grandmother in the Holocaust. I could not remember meeting anyone twenty-something person whose great grandmother was a Holocaust survivor.
Another clue were the words “…painted in my head.” These smell like the words of a writer. Was this fan a member of the South Florida Writers Association?
No name was posted. But there was a telephone number that my cell and I failed to recognized. The phone number had a 754 area code. So he or she most likely lived in Miami-Dade County—home of the SFWA. The pieces of the puzzle were starting to fit together.
I recalled how much I loved deductive analysis. Sherlock’s use of the ‘science of deduction’ had always blown me away.
Holmes would have said, “Don’t be cheap, Google Cell Phone Number Lookup. It’s fast easy and accurate.”
And I would reply, “Sherlock, I’m a scribbler of words—we don’t make that kind of money.”
I thought text a generic reply “Thank you for your kind words.” Maybe the reader would respond with his or her name.
Then I asked myself, “Would it be inappropriate to call?”
My author’s brain jolted into high gear, “Calling would be so uncool, so lame and so desperate. No respected writer would consider such a sorry-ass move.
So I texted the “Thank you note” and then called the number.
A female robotic voice responded, “Thank you for calling. At the beep please leave your name, number and message.—beep.”
I scrambled to tap the white phone encased in the red circle. I’m lame but not lame enough to leave a voice message.
No names.
Few Clues.
Well, one small insignificant clue— the fan pays his or her phone bills. From my lawyering years, I learned that Bell South wouldn’t release the info without a court order.
Where do I go next?
Again, I scratched head, but this time wishing I owned an herringbone, Irish tweed, wool deerstalker, a calabash pipe and a bone-handled magnifying glass.
Without the aforementioned accoutrements, I decided to play the role of Sherlock.
“Watson, I presume my fan bought my book. I have sold four hundred but many are on shelves in libraries across Dade County.”
Watson, This is an elementary case. I shall now connect the presumptive dots for you.
The fan:
1. Knows my cell number;
2. Lives in Dade County;
3. Had great grandmother in Holocaust, Ergo, fan in early twenties;
4. Studying writing at FIU or UM;
5. Is a member of South Florida Writers Association.
6. Bought my book.
Before I could yell out, “Eureka! I have solved the mystery.”
I hear the beep of an incoming message.
It read, “I’m Mike from SFWA. Sorry I didn’t pick up the phone.”
Another mystery solved by deductive reasoning.
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Devorah Kaplan,