Books: Lemons Never Lie (Alan Grofield #4) by Richard Stark (1972)

“When he’s not carrying out heists with his friend Parker, Alan Grofield runs a small theater in Indiana. But putting on shows costs money and jobs have been thin lately—which is why Grofield agreed to fly to Las Vegas to hear Andrew Myers’ plan to knock over a brewery in upstate New York. Unfortunately, Myers’ plan is insane—so Grofield walks out on him. But Myers isn’t a man you walk out on, and his retribution culminates in an act of unforgivable brutality. That’s when Grofield decides to show him what a disciple of Parker is capable of.” 

Lemons Never Lie would be the last Alan Grofield spin-off novel, but the character would make another appearance in the 1974 (sort of) final Parker novel, Butcher’s Moon. The more reliable Westlake Review can’t come to any conclusion as to why Stark stopped writing about him, but like Parker, there’s an assumption the 1970s was causing problems for thieves who are stealing large amounts of cash from banks, entertainment venues, local stores and other places –those places were drying up, mostly due to the credit card boom, and money being transferred electronically, so there no need to have large amounts of loose cash on hand. They also noted: “It does, like the others, refer to Parker, remind us of Grofield’s connection to him (there’s even a brief cameo by Handy McKay).  Westlake was well aware of the fact that Grofield had not developed much of an independent fanbase, and that Grofield’s readership was, in the main, a subset of Parker’s.”

 

So after Butcher’s Moon, Grofield never appeared in another Parker novel (though Westlake would revive that character in 1997). Though, on a side note, Westlake did create a sort of alternate universe version of Grofield (who had sold out and become a prosperous star of film and TV) who periodically would popup in the Dortmunder books. 

 

Finally, perhaps by the time Westlake restarted the Parker novels after a twenty-three year absence, the rise of the information age would’ve stretched the concept of an actor who also committed robberies using the same name a bit hard to cover up. For many, those latter Parker tales were already stretching the believability factor.

 

Out of the four books, Lemons Never Lie comes the closest to what Westlake created in the Parker character. Seems ironic that a lot of Stark/Westlake fans did not really enjoy this off ramp into the mind of Grofield, but here, in this last book, Grofield is closest to being part of the darkness that surrounds Parker.

 

The most interesting thing about the book is that it actually shows Grofield working at his small theater – an out the way place in rural Indiana. It recounts the mundane aspect he and his wife Mary go through to put on highly unprofitable plays (and one where we see Westlake/Stark take a jab at the current medium of popular TV, movies, and even tedious plays. He only puts on “legit” plays). This also sort of really shows why Grofield has his side business as a thief – it raises the capital to put on his shows.

 

As well, though, Lemons Never Lies doesn’t read like a last book in the series, it yet somehow kind of works as such. I liked Grofield and despite being a less ruthless thief and killer that is Parker (and he’s less humorous here), he remains just as complex and interesting as Parker.

Books: The Blackbird (Alan Grofield #3) By Richard Stark (1969)

“After a dramatic armor car robbery goes south (the first chapter opens with the events -with minor variations- from Stark’s Parker novel, Slayground), Grofield, while recovering from his injuries, becomes the man who knows too much (though this book seemly plays out like another Hitchcock thriller, Notorious), as unnamed federal agents will make his robbery charges go away is he agrees infiltrate a dangerous group attempting to influence a newly independent African nation.” 

Long before John Dortmunder (some variations on the plot in this book will pop up in The Hot Rock) showed up, it appears that Westlake was using Alan Grofield to test out some other ways to tell his tales -still somewhat violent, but also with additional humor not seen in the Parker novels. So we get Grofield as the reluctant adventurer in The Damsel, and a reluctant detective stuck in a locked-room mystery in The Dame, while here in The Blackbird, we get a reluctant spy. The reason Grofield was picked for this mission is because he knows both General Pozos, dictator of the South American banana republic Guerrero (who he met in The Damsel), and Onum Marba, a powerful politician from the African country Undurwa (who he met in The Dame), both of whom will be at the conference, representing their countries. 

It’s also been well established that Grofield has an overwhelming sense of self-preservation and has a contemptuous attitude every-man-for-himself. This may be the characters only drawback, because while he sort of becomes a cut-rate James Bond here, his relationship with one Undurwan aide Vivian Kamdela (the blackbird of the title) becomes a battle of what Grofield will do for his country (nothing much) and the beliefs of the ultra-patriot Miss Kamdela. Throughout the book, they have a back and forth philosophical dialogue about what a patriot means, what loyalty means. She clearly believes in being a good soldier, while Grofield only believes in being Grofield. 

There is a lot more smart-assery and wisecracks going on here, as well, which (as mentioned) is out of place in a Richard Stark tale, but the book does return to violence you expect in the Parker tales in the end, though Alan seems pragmatic about it, and less ruthless (but, in its own way it can be sold as being ruthless. It’s a fine line, from my POV. Like Parker, he is a thief, but will cross the line to save his own hide, even at the expense of four idiotic Americans playing a game that is so far out of their league).

Books: The Dame By Richard Stark (1969)

“Alan Grofield, still in the arms of Elly, but preparing to return to the United States to see his wife, when receives a message asking him to go to Puerto Rico as a favor to a friend to help out a woman in distress. Curious, Grofield flies to Puerto Rico and meets the woman and her several houseguests at an isolated mansion out in the countryside. Grofield and the lady immediately annoy each other and he decides not to take the job. However, before he can leave someone in the house is murdered. It's clear that the killer must have either been a guest or a member of the staff, and Grofield is everyone's number one suspect. Grofield becomes suspect number one, but to clear his name, he relunctantly assumes the role of detective. But can he amuse the husband of the murdered woman –a crime boss himself- until he can discover who killed her?”

The Dame is the second of Westlake’s four pseudonymous Parker spin-off novels starring actor-turned-thief Alan Grofield, and follows on almost directly from the first book, The Damsel. The premise is a bit wobbly and vague here. While Grofield is more wittier and less violent than Parker, he still is a smart man and I began to wonder why he would take this job –he still has his take of the money from his recent adventure with Parker (see The Handle)- mostly because that gig set him up with enough cash for a year or more. So why go to Puerto Rico to begin with? Thus it becomes a straight whodunit with plot contrivances and some action thrown in to remind readers that Donald E. Westlake is writing under his hard-broiled noir nom de plume of Richard Stark.

And sort of like The Damsel, Grofield no longer has some of the quirks Westlake created for him in his appearances in the Parker books, which adds to the boring murder mystery. Another word, some of his wittiness has been diluted, making The Dame sit awkwardly between two writing genre styles, neither tough, smart or violent enough to be a good Parker novel nor funny enough to be a good Westlake caper.

Still, it is Westlake and book does have some redeeming values –the murder mystery is thin, but him playing detective and asking questions does sparkle. Maybe it’s only for those who consider themselves a Parker completists –which I’m not, but these books are still better written than most other crime novels of the modern age.

Books: Butcher's Moon By Richard Stark (1974)

“Parker’s run of bad luck (the four novels spanning from The Sour Lemon Score to Plunder Squad) persists as the story Butcher’s Moon opens. A botched jewelry store job leaves him out of pocket and in dire need of cash, so he calls up Alan Grofield, his long-time associate and actor-turned-thief, with whom he worked on the heist at the start of Slayground—a heist that resulted in Grofield being hospitalized and Parker abandoning a stashed bag of dough in an amusement park in the Midwest city of Tyler, Indiana. After 2 years and a few adventures, Grofield is similarly on his uppers, his summer stock theater in Mead Grove, Indiana continuing to drain his resources and leaving him without a pot to piss in. So when Parker suggests they head to Tyler to retrieve their loot, Grofield readily accepts. Not surprisingly, once they arrive in Tyler and search Fun Island, there’s no trace of the money, so he and Grofield make a nuisance of themselves with the local Outfit (i.e. Mob) operation in an effort to track down the boodle. Adolf Lozini, the Mafia boss who led the hunt for Parker through Fun Island in Slayground, is still in charge—but only just. There’s a coup d’état brewing, and the last thing the usurpers need is Parker and Grofield making things more difficult. But successfully and violently muddy the waters they do, until Grofield is shot and then held hostage and Parker has to resort to calling in help his list of other past associates, among them Handy McKay from, Stan Devers, and Ed Mackey, to carry out a series of jobs on Outfit enterprises in and around Tyler before hitting the Outfit men themselves.”

A lot of Butcher’s Moon reads like a finale, that after sixteen novels and a dozen year, Parker was going out in style. But according to Donald E. Westlake, this was not intended to be the last book; it just ended being that way. Over the twenty-three year gap between this novel and Parker’s Comeback return in 1997, Westlake said many things, including the idea that even by 1974, stealing large amounts of cash from banks, entertainment venues, local stores and other places was drying up due to few things, the credit card boom, and money being transferred electronically –so no need to have large amounts of loose cash on hand. He did tell the New York Times back in 1997 that by “1974, Richard Stark just up and disappeared. He did a fade. Periodically, in the ensuing years, I tried to summon that persona, to write like him, to be him for just a while, but every single time I failed. What appeared on the paper was stiff, full of lumps, a poor imitation, a pastiche. Though successful, though well liked and well paid, Richard Stark had simply downed tools. For, I thought, ever.”

But for some diehard Richard Stark/Donald Westlake fans, this seemed not so realistic take, as website The Westlake Review pointed out in 2015: “Westlake had established Dortmunder as a series character, and we can speculate that Westlake didn’t want to be spending most of his time working out variations on what he’d done before, which is what franchise fiction tends to be, no matter how well written and original.” Butcher’s Moon was also “the twenty-first and final book Westlake published at Random House (and the first Parker novel released in hardcover), ending what has to be considered his most seminal and productive stint at any one publisher–all of his 60’s novels under his own name, plus a short story collection, all five of the Mitchell Tobin mysteries of Tucker Coe, and finally the last four Parker novels. It was at Random House that Westlake had truly matured as a writer, had made his reputation as a crime novelist (alternately dark and comical), and had benefited greatly from the editing savvy of Lee Wright, one of the most influential figures in the mystery field at that time. Did Westlake stop working with his first major publisher because he wanted to stop writing Parker novels for a while, or did he stop writing Parker novels for a while because Random House didn’t want any more?  Was it a four book deal that expired and was not renewed?  Is that why this book feels like a planned conclusion to the entire saga to date?  Because that is precisely what it does feel like.  A saga drawing to a close, with a vengeance.”

Butcher’s Moon also reintroduces characters from most its previous fifteen books in a tale that is (a first for Westlake/Stark) a direct sequel to a previous novel. But also gives the long-time reader an Easter Egg of sorts or just someone who understood continuity, by also completing a subplot introduced in the very first book in the series, The Hunter back in 1962. “So Parker cheerfully—or, more accurately, dourly—murders his way through Butcher’s Moon, gunning down one man on a sidewalk just to send a message and visiting an apocalyptic vengeance on the hapless mobsters at the close of the book,” noted the Westlake Review.

Even though this would be the last Parker book for twenty-three years, it also comes across like a refreshing new take for our favorite anti-hero, as Stark/Westlake smartly changes up the format. First off, it runs 55 chapters, over three hundred pages, fully twice the length of many of the earlier books (more on this later). He also abandons the usual four part structure in favor of a continuous linear narrative. He also makes Parker less anonymous, as he tells Lozini to contact certain people who will tell him what Parker is capable of when someone gets in the way of his money.

These changes may have upset some long-time readers, but it’s clear that Westlake would not be put off by their complaining. There is also a great meta moment, as well, when Parker has assembled a large team to take on the Mob and get Grofield back. It could be Westlake himself talking to his long-time faithful readers that Parker can evolve. So it comes to Handy McKay, who knows how Parker works, who is a bit ambivalent about his latest plan, to ponder why go through this for one man. These guys, they know the risk, they know this could be their last job; they know they’ll be left behind if their shot or caught by the police. “What happens to him is up to him,” Handy says bluntly.

“I don’t care. I don’t care if it’s like me or not. These people nailed my foot to the floor, I’m going round in circles, I’m not getting anywhere. When was it like me to take lumps and just walk away? I’d like to burn this city to the ground, I’d like to empty it right down to the basements. And I don’t want to talk about it anymore, I want to do it. You’re in, Handy, or you’re out. I told you the setup, I told you what I want, I told you what you’ll get for it. Give me a yes or a no.”

The question now is will I read more of these books? Between 1997 and his death on New Years Eve 2008, Westlake wrote eight more Parker novels (the last one was published posthumously in 2009). Most diehard Westlake readers would, but there is a caveat. As the 70’s became the 80’s, most of his books started appearing in hardcover first –he reached the pinnacle a lot of writers of the paperback era always wanted. But to meet the costs of this format, it meant that the page count needed to increase. What made the early paperback Parker’s great, and even the early Dortmunder’s, along with his multiple stand-alone titles, was by keeping them short and to the point, the books were slim, with a lot of superfluous material excised during rewrites (see my take on Forever and a Death). But to justify the hardcover costs, it forced Westlake to write much longer books, with tales often going off in tangents that slowed the pace down, especially in the later Dortmunder tales. They were no longer lean, mean machines. They’re still great tales, but they often suffered because he had develop more characters, more subplots, more action (or comedic) set pieces.

I may read Comeback, but for now, my tour with Parker might be finished.

Books: The Damsel by Richard Stark (1967)

The eighth Parker novels was The Handle. At the end of that book, partner Alan Grofield is wounded and Parker gets him safely to a hotel in Mexico City and has a doctor tend to the wound. Then Parker returns to the U.S., leaving Grofield with his share of the cash from the job, to recover.

It's at this point, The Damsel (the first of four tales spun-off from the Parker series) begins. Grofield is lying in bed in his fourth floor hotel room when, seemingly out of nowhere, a very attractive young woman climbs through the window. She's apparently fleeing from someone and thinks the room is empty because it is dark. Grofield surprises her and demands to know what she's doing. She tells him a few obvious lies; he tells her a few in return, and the story is off and running.

However, It doesn’t take the thugs long to figure out where Elly is hiding, and soon both are on the run.  The rest of the plot revolves around a complex web involving three fathers and three grown children, an imminent political assassination, a former governor of Pennsylvania, the current dictator of a banana republic, and a one-eyed scarred ex-convict running around half-naked with a very large knife.

There is an odd mix of violence and witty dialogue here, a far-fetched plot, and a bit of a travelogue thrown in as well. It seems, from my perspective, The Damsel is also a dry run for what would become the Dortmunder tales a few years later. Alan is an interesting character and Elly is perhaps Stark’s first genuine female character who is not out for herself.

So Grofield falls somewhere between Parker and Dortmunder. He has some dark aspects of the violent world of Parker, but offers a somewhat cheerful outlook, with some wittiness here and there. A fun diversion away from Parker and his killer takes all world.