Tyler Palewhite:Soft-Boiled Detective

By Joseph Valentinetti

Tyler Palewhite: Soft Boiled Detective.
Tyler Palewhite is a salesman who dreams of being a novelist. In fact he’s written a P.I. novel. He’s not having much luck getting it published until he hits on the idea of pretending to be a Private Investigator to impress potential publishers. He makes letterhead, prints business cards and adds it to his resume. As people find out they take it seriously and begin to ask for his help. He tries his hand at a couple of simple things and has some unexpected success. It works. He gets a publisher and things are going as according to plan.
Just when he thinks, What Could Possibly Go Wrong? things begin to spiral out of control and he finds himself embroiled in kidnapping and murder. What he does to try and fix things keep making matters worse. Follow Tyler as he tries to find a way to make things right.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joseph Valentinetti
• Release date: Aug 25, 2011
• ISBN: 9781452442976

Joseph Valentinetti

The Type Of People I Write About There are many reasons a person will pick up a book. They’re looking for something, it could be anything. So let me give some idea of what you’ll find when you open a book of mine. But first let me tell you what you won’t find. None of my characters are innocent. They are not finding love for the first time. They are not stunning symbols of ideal beauty or intelligence. They may be jaded or naïve but they are not brand new. None of my characters are capable of turning into bats, wolves or anything requiring a special uniform, especially a cape. They can’t leap over tall things, least of all buildings. They don’t wear masks or have faithful Indian companions. They don’t dress like they’re in Sherwood Forest and they don’t have a shapely fairy with dragon-fly wings who can sprinkle them with pixy dust and make their dreams come true. No ruby slippers, no magic Lamps. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with characters like that or people who write about them, it just that I don’t. What you will find are people, ordinary average people who find themselves in extra-ordinary circumstances. People who have gotten themselves into a position that’s completely new to them and they have to figure out how to get out of it. If they don’t find a way the consequences will be severe and most likely fatal. There’s a spiritual song called The Lonesome Valley. It says, `Nobody can go there for you’. While that’s true, there are many people willing to help them find the path to it, if they’re not careful. My characters can’t buy their way out, they can’t wish their way out. They can’t hope for the best, they can’t pretend it isn’t happening. They can’t say it’s all someone else’s fault. It’s their time in life to face the facts. E.M. Forster said the only way to end a work of fiction in a satisfying way is with death or marriage. Both satisfactorily signal the end of the adventure. My writing never ends with all the questions neatly answered. Some of the conclusion is left to the reader to ponder. Some readers think this isn’t the way books should be but some books are, mine for example. About Me Whenever I’m faced with the prompt to say something about myself I’m stumped. Maybe it’s because when I read how other people have responded to that, with dates of birth, schools attended, jobs held, marriages tried, children raised, accomplishments they’re proud of, I’m a little to a lot bored by it. Resumes and vita sheets-I don’t know. I always thought the only difference between a resume and a prison record was who’s doing the writing, who’s the record keeper. I was born in New York City. From a national perspective it’s a world class place, full of everything anyone could ever want. From someone who grew up there it was the biggest small town in the world. Most New Yorkers live in enclaves of a few thousand people and spend most of their lives in a limited geographical area. My years there were spent in Washington Heights-some trips downtown, once to Jersey, to a camp, sponsored by the church for poor kids, but mostly within the confines of a square mile or two. I failed to graduate from George Washington High School because I failed to attend most of the time. By the authority vested in the City of New York I was transferred from GWHS P.S. 192 to P.S. 614. The 600 schools were special. To put it simply, you went on Monday and came home in June. I’d probably still be there but, about this time, the transit authority built the second level of the George Washington Bridge through my bedroom, forcing us to relocate, relieving the city of its responsibility toward my education. One night, some friends and me were sitting around bored, playing cards, in a furnished room, on 48th and Palisades, over the 300 Club, in Union City New Jersey. We were mostly jobless, older teenagers. I don’t remember how the subject came up but we were talking about military service. Henry said he liked the Air Force, they had cool raincoats. I said the Army was three years and that was better than the four years the air Force demanded so it was the better deal. We cut the cards for it. I drew a queen. We enlisted the next day, on the buddy plan, Henry and me. He got pneumonia the first week of basic training and that was the last I saw of him. Through no fault of my own I served in the peace time army. I got my GED in the service. I earned the GI bill for my time. All in all I got the better of the deal. It paid all the way through to a master’s degree in education. My undergraduate advisor told me I was the brightest undergraduate he’d ever met. My son’s mother said I was the dumbest bastard she’d ever met. A hand full of one, a handful of the other. Neither held the ring of truth or the aroma, for that matter, I wanted from either relationship. I was probably somewhere in the middle. I was a counselor/instructor at the University of Minnesota. I worked with federal grants to help underprivileged students access higher education. I did that until the university and federal government decided educating the underprivileged was no longer something worth doing. During this same period I worked in public relations photography for the music industry, photographing their artists when they came to town for concerts. I also did studio photography as well as teach photography for Metropolitan State University. I taught training classes for state employees in utilizing media to improve agency communication. I had five one-man shows of my Photographs at the universities and private galleries. I have since worked as a Public Guardian and a private detective. There is a block of time in this later period that I refer to as The Lost Years. You’ll have to wait to hear about that. Some days I am happy and some days I am sad, some days I feel good and some days I don’t. I dropped out of high school because I didn’t see the connection between tin exports from Bolivia, solving for X and teachers who didn’t seem to understand the limits of their responsibilities, but, more likely it was because I didn’t understand the limitlessness of my own. So. Now I’ve said something about myself.

Book preview

Tyler Palewhite

Soft Boiled Detective

by Joseph Valentinetti

Copyright © 2011 Joseph Valentinetti

Published by Joseph Valentinetti, USA.

www.valentinetti.com

http://vimeo.com/user3391619

email: [e-mail]

Smashwords Edition

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

The characters and events in this novella are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

An imprint of Joseph Valentinetti.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

One

Tyler Palewhite learned to sleep light from Sarah. She made him sensitive to movement in the bed. Especially in the predawn. Sarah liked to make love in the morning then fall back to sleep and wait for the alarm. He was a sleeper of anticipation. A waiter-someone in an airport clutching a bouquet of flowers. A victim willing to satisfy her lusts-male whore on the street corner, hoping she'd drive by. Waiting for it to happen. He felt a movement now. Had she rolled toward him? His eyeballs darting like REM sleep under his heavy lids. Was he asleep or awake? Was that her hand on his thigh? With effort he pried open one eye and dared to peek. The bed was empty except for himself, as it had been for more than a year.

Shit, he said, throwing back the covers and hurrying to the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror. You ought to think about getting a girlfriend.

Tyler slouched in the low-backed chair at a conference table with the eleven other salespeople. Behind him, the room was three times as long as it was wide. Each of the twelve desks was partitioned with low moveable walls. In front of him, the sales manager's office was elevated three steps so she could see into the cubicles. Bridgette Wong stood on the second step, delivering the weekly harangue on the state of the company, and just why the sales force was the culprit dragging it straight to hell. Ah Mondays, Tyler thought. It's almost Easter, people are buying clothes, not computers. It's almost Friday, Wong said emphatically, "and people are getting ready for the weekend. The kids are out of school this week, people don't want to shop while dragging their kids along. It's vacation time, everyone's out of town.

Then tell me this, people, she said, nearly ranting now, pausing for effect, who the hell is driving all those damned cars that make you late all the time? This is just the tip of a list of excuses I've heard from you weaklings for not selling. I've heard every one of them. They're all bullshit- she calmed -and anyone who believes even one of them is bullshiting themselves-and cheating this company in the process!

Tyler shifted his butt on the formed plastic seat. The notebook he'd been doodling in fell to the carpet. He froze, hoping it hadn't caught Wong's attention, but his luck ran out.

I'm not keeping you awake, am I, Tyler?

Perfect, he thought. A question where both yes and no are the wrong answer. Tyler stood five-nine-and-one-quarter: with the lifts in his shoes; he rose to that height and rubbed his hip.

Sorry, but my ass was going to sleep.

Wong pointed to the sales board on the wall behind her. Did you look at these sales figures for last week?

Great, Tyler thought as he clasped his narrow fingers in front of him. Yes I did, Ms. Wong. I finished tenth last week.

Tenth out of a possible twelve.

I was ninth the week before, he protested. The company only needed a sales force of nine, but they kept twelve to hone the internal competition. The same five top salespeople rotated the first five sales slots between themselves, but from six through twelve was like being on the conveyor belt to the guillotine. There was at least one new face a month. I was seventh twice last month.

Only Generals live on past glories. What have you done for us lately? she said, more than asked.

Nervous, dry in the mouth, Tyler said, Can it be someone else's turn now? hoping to get a rise out of the group.

When the crowd snickered, he sat back down, fetched his notebook from the floor and went back to his doodling. He'd already scratched out, `Tyler Palewhite, son of a Midwestern industrialist...' Now he scratched out, `Tyler Palewhite, born to poor immigrant parents on the plains of South Dakota...' and wrote, `Tyler Palewhite, born of wealthy, though neglectful, parents in Manhattan's Sutton Place...'

Angel leaned over, her short auburn hair clinging to her round skull. A tiny bump accented her Roman nose. At thirty-five she had eight years on Tyler. Why do you let her get away with it? You should have more respect for yourself. Why do you let her talk to you like that?

He looked into the bright green eyes set deep in her olive face. It's got to be somebody, Angel. When she's chewing on my ass, she's leaving everybody else's alone. You should thank me for that. Besides, I don't plan on being here forever. This isn't my career, it's just a job, so what's the big deal?

Your rent comes due, that's the big deal, she said, reaching over and playfully slapping his hand.

Wong said, The contest trip to Vegas is for two, and it's for Most Improved Sales, so you people on the low end have the advantage.

Angel whispered behind her clipboard, What's so hot about a trip to Vegas? You can drive there from here. I think I'll let you win this one. There was a time when they gave incentives you could care about.

The golden age of Pellos Computer. Now, if it was only interesting... he whispered.

Wong added, I'll post your mid-week figures on Wednesday so you can see how you're doing. Ms. Borden, you stay, everyone else can get back to work.

On the way back to their adjoining cubicles Tyler said to Angel, Too bad, poor girl.

Borden had to know it was coming, she never got above eleventh, Angel said.

Sure she knew-who wouldn't?

Sales just isn't for her. She'll be happier somewhere else.

Tyler smiled. Careful, Angel, you're getting that management frame of mind. Keep thinking like that and you'll get promoted. He added, Watch my phone for me; I got to run over to the post office.

Angel showed her disapproval. Right after the meeting, Tyler? What'll I tell Wong if she asks?

Tell her I'm in the bathroom, he said. You'll think of something, you're in sales. The B.A. on your degree stands for Bullshit Artist, doesn't it?

You'll be the next one on the belt if you're not careful, Angel chided playfully and patted him on the rump. Your butt still sleeping?

No, but cover it for me till I get back. OK, please? He returned the pat. You want to catch a drink after work or something?

Is this a bribe?

He shrugged. Why not?

He stopped at Doro Borden's cubicle on the way out. She was tall and lean. Her nonchalant carriage, like that of a dancer, always attracted him. She was loading all her things in a large canvas tote.

I'm sorry, Doro.

Her bloodshot brown eyes were clouded with recent tears. She used a wadded tissue to dab at her nose. I was already looking-I knew it was coming-I was hoping it wouldn't be just yet. I have my daughter, Amy to think about. She clutched the tissue in her fine-boned hand.

What about your husband-he working? Tyler blurted just before he remembered her delicate hands were ring-less.

No.

In an attempt to recover he asked, How old is your little girl?

Twenty-six months. Doro lifted a small, framed snapshot from her desk and handed it to Tyler. I just enrolled her in a dance class.

That seems young to me, but I bet she's adorable. Tyler pictured the plump, freckled child in a tutu.

God, Doro moaned, I hope I find something before I have to go on welfare. Do you know what it's like to shop with food stamps? People look over your groceries to see if you're worthy of them-to see if you're buying what a welfare mother ought to buy. She sat and held her narrow face in her fragile hands.

Tyler felt uneasy, unsure if the comfort he was attempting to give was more harm than not. You'll find something, he said, touching her shoulder.

You're sweet, Tyler. You just stopped to give your regrets and you got all this-more than you bargained for, I bet. She put her hand on his. You're the only one who's come near me since the meeting. You're pretty special.

You'll be all right?

I'll be all right, she said standing and hefting the tote bag to her shoulder. By the way, if you hear of anything let me know, OK?

Oh, she said , suddenly pausing. She dug through her bag, kicking up a barely visible film of talc along with its faint, sweet aroma. Will you turn my ID card in? I don't want to go back in her office.

Sure, he said, looking down at the officious, laminated, photo ID. You take a good picture, you should be a model.

She managed a half smile. Well...

Good luck, he said watching her glide down the aisle to the exit.

Two

Tyler left the building and entered the same fantasy that played out on his way to the post office for the past two years: What should he do with all that money? Save it? Try to live off it? He craned his neck to see the cars in the car lots as he drove by-once he leaves this job, it's no more car. What'll I do about that? I could buy a car with some of it. What should I get? Could I get a decent car for four or five thousand? I don't need anything fancy. I don't need anything ugly either. I could use some clothes; and maybe a different place to live. How much of the advance will it be? I should get seventy-five thousand. Is anybody getting less than that these days? Every day you read in the paper how somebody got a fortune. Why couldn't that happen to me?

Tyler swooped down the on-ramp and wedged the company I-Mark into traffic. He looked at the hills abutting the freeway, brown and growing brittle under the relentless sun. He thought about how Californians named the seasons after local events rather than calendar cycles. This was the fire season. All rooted things which weren't artificially cared for were either dormant or dead.

When Tyler Palewhite opened his post office box and saw the large, flat, self-addressed manila envelope sitting there, his face fell. He had thought for sure that this was the time. The publisher had had the manuscript for six months. Tyler had received a letter three months ago that they wanted more time. Maybe they wanted revisions. Maybe there was a contract inside, maybe a check! He tore at the stubborn fiber envelope, finally ripping the top off and tossing it aside. He jerked out the manuscript, peered in the empty envelope, fanned through the manuscript pages-nothing!

The bang the manuscript made hitting the post office wall startled the other customers into silence.

I hate my life! Tyler hollered.

Suddenly flushed with shame, he knelt down and gathered the scattered pages like someone gathering leaves without a rake. He snatched up the envelope and, cradling the pages in his arms, slunk out the door.

On the drive back to the office Tyler didn't peer into car lots or fantasize a roll on a mattress full of money. He was busy de-balling and de-nippling editors in a soundproof room where he ignored their agony. He had sweated blood over this novel, writing and rewriting until there were no words of any value left in the universe that he had not examined or thought of using. On top of that-even after all that-he still hired a book doctor to give him ideas for any last-minute tuning that it might need.

He walked gingerly past Wong's perch and made it to his cubicle. He leaned over the partition he shared with Angel.

Did she look for me?

No, you're in the clear. Angel popped a breath mint into her mouth as she dialed the phone.

Tyler reached over and grabbed one of the mints for himself. It pays to have sweet breath when you talk to people. He sat down and dialed. Lizabeth, this is Tyler.

It's been more than a year. Are you calling with good news, I hope? the coarse-voiced editor asked.

No.

That's a shame. Yet another rejection?

"This was a big one, Delcor Press had hold of it a long time. I thought for sure they were going

Reviews for Tyler Palewhite:Soft-Boiled Detective

[qstewart_5 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Tyler is truly a "soft boiled detective". I hate to compare him to Barney Fife but he comes mighty close. As a struggling writer Tyler decides that he needs to improve his biographical sketch that appears in his book. So he becomes a detective. It seems easy enough and it does add to his aura as an author.At a book signing he is approached by a lady who needs his services. He accepts the case of returning her daughter who has not been returned from a visit with her father. Tyler and the friends he enlists to help him come up with an elaborate plan to kidnap the child back only to find out that the client has been lying to Tyler and he must work to undo what he has done.It is an interesting read and gives one the idea that one needs to be careful with what he claims to be. A little detective work into the background of the client would have sufficed to save everyone a lot of trouble. Very good.

[sarahbrownschmidt · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This book was fun and I'd read the others in the series. At times I had a hard time getting into it but overall a good detective novel.

[cyndavaz · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

3.5 STARS - I won this book on Library Thing, along with the author's other short (short) story, Naming the Moon. This story was a big improvement over Naming the Moon in terms of style and substance. I took a half star off because I think the characters could have been developed so much more, the story fleshed out a little better, and also because the e-book formatting was a little off-kilter sometimes (no breaks in the writing for scene changes can be a bit disorienting when you're in the flow of reading and there's an abrupt shift). But this was still a good read - the author has talent that I expect he will be able to develop more fully in the years to come.

[jldarden · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

This was a quick and fun read, however there were several problems. Perhaps it was the e-book formatting but is was quite jolting to jump from scene to scene with no text breaks. The character of Tyler had potential but seemed to have immediate pity parties when his own inexperience and incompetence failed him. Only then would he proceed. The fate of some characters was left hanging and altogether the story did not flow well. And is it just me or are any other readers tired of reading about writers as characters in books?

[vgill_16 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Just finished reading Tyler Palewhite, softboiled detective.Wow, the ending was pretty intense! I liked this book, I felt Tyler was asympathetic character who grew throughout the story, and would beinterested in reading his further adventures. As an author myself, I can sympathize with Tyler's struggles to get his book published and the falsehood he resorts to to lift his novel out of the slushpile. The rocky transitions between scene changes could be easily solved by double spacing, ## signs and the like.

[kristincedar · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Not exactly the best book I've ever read... Unfortunately, the story of Tyler Palewhite had the making of a caped crusader of the Batman type, but the change from seemingly boring salesman to PT failed. The plot was very far fetched, and not in the good way. Although I liked the way Tyler interacted with his band of brothers, it just wasn't very good.

[thosgpetri · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is a very good book. Apparently self published, but why I don't know it is certainly good enough to any publisher's interest. the story is about a computer program salesman turned mystery writer. When he can't sell his book to any publisher he hits on the promotional idea of promoting himself as a detective to enhance his image as a mystery writer. And the fun begins! Palewhite is a bit of a schmuck and soon gets in over his head. The story moves fast and it is fun reading. I look forward to more from Joseph Valentinetti and Tyler Palewhite.

[tvordj · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

this was a book from Member Giveaway. I have to say, this was not, for me, a great book. It was short at least but probably should have been a little longer. It sometimes changed focus from one scene to a different location or group of people between one paragraph and the next without a word or notice to say that it had so i'd be confused at first thinking what just happened and where am I and who are these people and where did they come from before i realized we're now in a new place, sometimes even a new day.It's about a salesman who isn't all that good at his job. He wants to be a writer and has penned a book about a Private Investigator but can't seem to get anyone to publish it until he pretends to be a detective in real life. He decides to take on a case so he can at least pretend and, flushed with the success of that case though only solved by his somewhat bumbling methods, he takes on another when asked by a beautiful woman with whom he instantly falls in love. She's not what she seems and her story isn't either. You can tell that straight away but he can't. He gets in over his head quickly and is snarled in a murder and kidnapping debacle. I found the plot predictable, the writing too. The shift in focus was sometimes abrupt and distracting. There were chapter breaks, why not do it for those focus shifts, too? I later realized that it was sort of like watching something on tv or in a movie but there, you have the visual and you can tell that you've changed a scene. On screen, things don't feel as rushed or abrupt but when you are reading it, it doesn't work very well. You need something to indicate the shift in focus, whether a short sentence, a new chapter or even little dots or graphics between those two paragraphs that give you more of a sense of separation. The other thing that felt out of place were two sex scenes. The scenes themselves probably weren't out of place, but I don't think they needed to be quite so graphic. They didn't seem to match the tone of rest of the book so stumbling into these almost felt gratuitous. The book has potential and probably would work well as a screenplay since it's written sort of like that but without the direction notes. The characters are a bit stereotype, the bumbling writer/salesman/detective, the faithful coworker who secretly loves him, the beautiful villain, her violent yet sometimes gentle co-hort, (a bit inconsistent, that). I think this was supposed to be a comic farce but the drawbacks took away from that element. It wasn't bad, but it could have been better.

[honoliipali · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I found this long novella to be a fun read. As others have stated, the storyline flow is confusing due to abrupt scene changes between paragraphs. The story would have flowed much better if these changes were defined by some sort of physical break like starting a new chapter.It is true that the characters could have been developed more but that was not important to me. I cared only about Tyler and Angel as I see their relationship as a "to be continued" basis for more stories.I give this a rating of 3.5 stars for significant formatting problems. I enjoyed the story and hope there are more to come.

[rhonda1111 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Friday, December 30, 2011Review: Tyler Palewhite: Soft-Boiled Detective by Joseph valentinetti 4 STARSI liked it but is not a book I will reread again. The characters took awhile for me to care about them.Tyler is a salesman who is always toward the bottom in sales. Tyler is always making excuses why that is. Plus he is always asking his friend to cover for him. Tyler wants to be a writer in fact he wrote one detective book and sent it off to lots of publishers. No short stories or articles just the one novel. It keeps on comming back rejected.Tyler gets the idea to fake being a real detective to help sell his book. He then uses sales training to sell himself. He makes business cards,stationary and advertises. He starts getting a few cases that he does find the people by using computers. Then he gets cases that he bumbles through and with his friends gets over his head in trouble.The ending was okay but I wanted a little bit more from it.I was given this book from the author in exchange of honest review from librarythings.

[demonite93 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

I had a lot of trouble with this one. The story seemed rather thrown together and not all that well plotted out. There was no transition from section to section. One second the characters are in a bar talking then in the next sentence the main character is leaning over a cubicle wall at work? That makes it very confusing to set your mind’s eye to what’s going on in the story. I’m a very visual person so I like to imagine what everything looks like as the story goes on and that is very difficult to do with this book. Not to mention that the story itself is rather boring, I feel like I’ve read or seen this same story a hundred times. This book is centered on a computer salesman that wishes desperately to become an author. He has written a book about a P.I. and when he realizes that no publishers want it, he decides to become a P.I. himself to help sell the book as if it’s based on actual stories from his job. (The thought that you can just jump into being a P.I. is a bit ridiculous, let alone the fact that he reads books about it and feels he knows what he’s doing? If he really did then he would know there’s licensing and actual detective work to do, and wouldn’t have ended up in the mess he was in.) Anyways, the story proceeds by him meeting a woman and trying to help her get her daughter back, when everything goes wrong. I was glad this book was short and I really had to struggle through it. The ending didn’t really complete the story but left it off as if there should be another chapter.