Before turning his hand to writing, Alan Orloff worked on nuclear submarines, supervised assembly workers in factories, had stints at the Washington Post and Arbiton and even started his own newsletter business, educating the public about the benefits of recycling and waste reduction. But then the writing bug bit, and his debut mystery, Diamonds for the Dead, was published in 2010 with Midnight Ink and went on to be nominated for an Agatha Award for Best First Novel. He published two more novels with Midnight Ink, Killer Routine in 2011 and Deadly Campaign in 2012, a duology in his Last Laff Mystery Series.
His new novel is a private eye thriller, I Know Where You Sleep from Down & Out Books. A relentless stalker has been terrorizing Jessica Smith, and, out of good options, she finally turns to her last resort—private investigator Anderson West. It seems like everyone is a suspect, Jessica’s ex-boyfriend and current boyfriend, her incredibly creepy boss, and the suspicious reverend at her church who definitely seems to be hiding something. West and his rule-breaking, loose-cannon sister, Carrie, race to find the culprit as the stalker’s notes become increasingly more threatening.
Alan stops by In Reference to Murder today for some Author R&R about writing and researching his novels:
Riding the Mean Streets
When I started writing, I wanted to write books similar to those I enjoyed reading, namely crime novels. But having been raised in sheltered suburbia, I didn’t have a whole lot of experience with crime, and I knew I needed to do some hands-on research.
So I knocked over a 7-Eleven.
No, not really. I attended a local Citizen’s Police Academy, and it proved to be a great way to see what police departments really do (without actually having to enroll in the real police academy and become an honest-to-goodness cop).
Many local law enforcement jurisdictions hold their own Citizen Academies (or some version of one—make a few calls, you’ll be surprised). Mine was conducted by the Herndon Police Department (in VA), and we gathered one night for 12 weeks to learn about all aspects of the policing business.
Undercover narc cops spoke to us about the seamy underbelly of the drug world, regaling us with some amazing stories and showing us what different drugs looked like, up close and personal (they had a large briefcase where samples were all bagged and tagged). Gang specialists told us about dealing with different gangs and how to spot gang activity. We watched a K9 unit demonstrate “take-down” techniques, and we hit the streets to work the LIDAR gun.
We visited the evidence lab and learned how to expose fingerprints with superglue fumes; we observed the lie detector in use (excuse me, the polygraph); and we got to fire live weapons on the range. A word of warning: Don’t mess with me—I put all eleven rounds in the inner circle, and it was the first time I’d ever even touched a real gun.
Another highlight was our visit to the County Detention Center (aka, the jail). We toured the whole thing—intake, processing, fingerprinting, breathalyzers, the holding cells, regular cells (pods, I think they were called), as well as the “special” cells. Fascinating and mighty depressing. Talk about getting scared straight!
While all those experiences were terrific, the highlight was my ride-along with a police officer.
I’ll take you back to that Saturday night on the mean streets of Herndon...
We’d been cruising for about two hours or so, checking out the normal trouble spots, and we’d gotten the usual calls: excessive noise at a sketchy apartment complex (a party gone wild), some possible gang activity near the convenience store, and a DiP (that’s Drunk In Public, for all you, uh, rookies) outside a local bar. Just your typical shift. Then we got a report on the radio of people—several people—running through the Community Center’s parking lot with rifles.
“Hold on,” the officer beside me said, as she flipped on the siren. We went roaring through town, cars parting to let us through. Screeching into the Community Center parking lot, we pulled up alongside a couple other cruisers, both empty, one with a door still flung open. Someone had left in a big hurry.
The officer barked at me, “Stay here. Don’t get out of the car.”
I forced a nod, too much cotton in my mouth to speak. Of course, she didn’t have to worry. I had no intention of following her into the night with a bunch of armed goons on the loose.
She grabbed her shotgun out of the lockdown and raced off, leaving me all alone.
All alone.
My heart raced. What if the guys with guns doubled back and found me, by myself, a sitting duck in a patrol car right underneath the parking lot lights? Would I become the unfortunate reason future ride-alongs had to be eliminated? I sank in my seat as low as I could go and peered out over the dashboard, hoping for reinforcements. Nope, just me and the empty police cars. I’d realized it before, but it hit home a lot harder in that moment. We didn’t pay law enforcement personnel nearly enough.
Luckily, the situation had a non-violent resolution. It turned out that the people running through the parking lot were teenagers wielding air rifles. No one got hurt. But man, how easily could something have gone terribly, irrevocably wrong? In the dark, those air rifles were indistinguishable from real rifles. Some poor teenager’s head easily could have been blown off.
I’ll say it again; I heartily recommend attending a Citizen’s Police Academy. Just make sure to wear two pairs of underwear on ride-along night.
And what did I do with this experience? I used it for the basis of the opening sequence of a novel, titled (appropriately enough) RIDE-ALONG!
To find out more about Alan and his books, head on over to his website or follow him on Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram. I Know Where You Sleep is available from Down & Out Books and all major online and brick-and-mortar booksellers.
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