Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: THURSDAY, September 7, 1995 TAG: 9509070089
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: PAULA SPANL THE WASHINGTON POST
DATELINE: FREEHOLD, N.J. LENGTH: Long
``It was so bogus!'' he complains. ``So many mistakes! Things don't happen that way.''
His sidekick and pal, Detective Joe Paglino, understands. The two of them crack up watching old ``Kojak'' reruns.
``You always see them dusting the doorknob. `Hey, Lieutenant, I got a print.' '' Paglino rolls his eyes. ``You never get a print on a doorknob. Doorknobs and phones are the greasiest surfaces in the world.''
And how about that TV movie they saw in which the cops used Luminol to locate traces of dried blood, and afterward the whole room glowed for hours?
``Luminol,'' Corvasce points out, ``only stays illuminated for 60 seconds. If you're lucky.''
``Artistic license,'' Paglino adds. With a snort. Why can't crime writers get this stuff right?
Of course, now they can. Corvasce (pronounced cor-VAH-see) and Paglino, who work in the Monmouth County Prosector's Office and are universally known as Mauro and Joe, are the authors of ``Modus Operandi: A Writer's Guide to How Criminals Work.'' Read it and learn exactly how bad guys hot-wire stolen cars, break into impregnable-looking safes, create diversions while shoplifting, make homicides look like accidents. Its 14 chapters, organized by type of crime, offer instructions on proper terminology (what a ``clocker'' is, or a ``ninja rock'') and fun facts (the street value of a kilo of cocaine or a stolen airbag). It even tells how loan-sharking units are organized, from bosses down to bookmakers.
Read the entire eight-volume ``Howdunit'' series that Writer's Digest Books publishes - including ``Deadly Doses: A Writer's Guide to Poisons'' and ``Armed & Dangerous: A Writer's Guide to Weapons'' - and embarking on a life of crime seems a definite possibility.
Though a life of crime writing is probably what most readers have in mind. Writer's Digest printed 15,000 copies of ``Modus Operandi''; earlier books in the ``Howdunit'' series have gone into fourth and fifth printings. Which suggests that for each of the 1,600 mystery titles published annually in the United States (this figure courtesy of - honest - the Drood Review in Kalamazoo, Mich.), there are droves of aspiring authors serious enough to plunk down $16.99 for some pointers. And where there's a market, there's a product.
``I was an arson investigator, so I did the arson chapter,'' says Mauro, 39, the big, serious one with the mustache and the basset-hound eyes. The pair are chowing down, after a long day, at a restaurant with deer heads mounted on the walls.
``I did con artists,'' puts in Joe, 38, who's from Brooklyn and knows all about cons. ``And prostitution. Don't ask me how I know about that.''
He's smaller, sharper-featured, jokier. As a duo, they tend to inspire animal analogies. Saint Bernard and terrier, perhaps. Or moose and squirrel.
They met seven years ago. Mauro was a local, a 10-year veteran of the Keansburg PD who'd joined the prosecutor's office and there encountered Joe, a Brooklyn native who'd done tours with the New York City medical examiner's office and the Brooklyn district attorney before moving to Jersey. The rapport was immediate.
Their first extracurricular joint venture was teaching - at firefighters' training sessions, at the county police academy and at the community college, where one of their students was a mystery writer.
This eventually led to an invitation to speak at a novelists' conference in San Antonio two years ago. Mauro noticed ``a guy in the audience taking notes like crazy'' and wondered whether the guy was planning to cop their routine and start lecturing at writers' conferences himself. After all, Joe and Mauro, with characteristic enterprise, had planned an elaborate three-hour presentation complete with an audiotape of an actual 911 call, graphic crime scene photos and audience participation.
But the guy had other things in mind: He turned out to be Bill Brohaugh, editorial director of Writer's Digest Books. ``They put on a fascinating inside look at homicide investigations,'' Brohaugh says. He had assigned ``Modus Operandi'' to an author who had died suddenly - of natural causes - and wondered whether Joe and Mauro would like to step in. They accepted with alacrity (Mauro: ``We jumped right on it!'') and even found, at a reception the same day, a literary agent willing to represent them.
Publishing has been a new adventure, even for a pair with plenty of war stories. Figuring it out as they went along, they finished the book in a crash four months. (And no, they say, it's not true that people will be able to go out and flawlessly commit crimes after reading it. ``We left some things out,'' Joe says. ``We made sure.'')
Now that it's in bookstores, the authors are stunned at the respect with which they've been welcomed to this new world. Take the two California writers' conferences where they recently appeared.
``We never have hard times, bad times, insults, anything,'' Mauro says. He is a bit incredulous.
Perhaps it's understandable that the two detectives are stunned by courtesy. In their day jobs, ``people we deal with, they're trying to lie to you, kill you, be rude to you,'' Mauro explains. ``People we met out there in California, they treat you like the head of MGM Studios.''
Around their office, everyone has not been so supportive. The county prosecutor himself tells them he's very proud of them. Among the rank and file, however, there's been some not entirely good-natured razzing. Some colleagues, perhaps not understanding that the authors are sharing an advance of all of $6,000, have asked whether they're planning to retire. And when Mauro replaced his wife's 12-year-old car recently, ``guys asked, `You pay cash?' Cash?! I got five years of payments.''
Joe has taken to razzing back. ``I say, `Hey, Mauro, did you return that call from the Lexus dealer?' ''
Look, who knows, it could happen. Always sharply attuned to promotional possibilities, Joe and Mauro have printed a three-color brochure describing what they do and offering ``Technical Advice for Authors, by Authors.'' They're hoping the handouts will lead to more gigs at writers' conferences, which not only take them places they haven't been (the conferences pay travel expenses and sometimes a tiny honorarium) but also allow them to sign and sell books.
They're about to sign contracts for a second ``Howdunit'' volume, this one about homicide, called ``Murder One.''
And yes, they have an idea for a crime novel of their own, tentatively titled ``True Blue.'' Because except for Joseph Wambaugh, who's about the only crime writer Mauro can stand to read these days, nobody tells about the everyday details of police life.
``We're hoping it'll be so realistic it's almost true,'' Mauro says. ``That's why we want to call it `True Blue.' ''
by CNB