The Blackbird Papers: A Novel - Hardcover

Smith, Ian

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 0385511361 ISBN 13: 9780385511360

Publisher: Doubleday, 2004

Synopsis

A rainy night . . . A stranded motorist . . . A Good Samaritan passerby ... a Nobel Prize–winning professor . . . The setup for a shocking murder designed to cover up an even more sinister crime . . .

The Blackbird Papers marks the debut of Ian Smith, a major new talent in crime fiction, and of Sterling Bledsoe, his smart and occasionally combative sleuth.

World-renowned Dartmouth professor Wilson Bledsoe is returning from a party celebrating his latest honor when he encounters a broken-down pickup on the secluded country road to his home. The next day, the discovery of his body with a vicious racist epithet carved into his chest leads to the quick arrest of two loathsome white supremacists. The local authorities seem ready to accept the case at face value as a racial hate crime. But the murdered professor’s brother, FBI agent Sterling Bledsoe, has inserted himself into the investigation and isn’t ready to buy into this pat solution. A look around his brother’s lab and brief interviews with his students and colleagues pique Sterling’s curiosity about Wilson’s pet project: a nearly completed paper on the mysterious deaths of hundreds of local blackbirds.

Fast-paced and cleverly constructed, The Blackbird Papers introduces a major new talent in mystery and crime fiction.

About this title

About the Author:

Ian Smith, M.D., has been an award-winning medical correspondent for NBC News and a contributor to the Today show.  He is a medical columnist for Men's Health magazine and a commentator for NPR’s Tavis Smiley show and for the nationally syndicated TV talk show The View.  He lives in New York City.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

1
Professor Wilson Augustus Bledsoe's car glided along the dark narrow roads of Hanover, New Hampshire, then crossed Ledyard Bridge into the vast wilderness of Vermont. The rain had started slowly at first, but now heavy drops danced staccato across the windshield of his old Mercedes. He felt relieved to be heading home, away from the noisy party still in full swing back at the president's mansion. The celebration was in his honor, yet he had been the first to leave. It wasn't that he was ungrateful. Bledsoe simply felt uncomfortable in large crowds, especially ones convened on his behalf, as they were these days with increasing frequency. What most of the guests didn't know was that but for his wife's insistence, he wouldn't even have gone. He had much more pressing matters to see to in his lab.

Bledsoe was no ordinary professor. He had just been awarded the twenty-third Devonshire, the most lucrative prize in science and second only to the Nobel in prestige. Winning it was no small feat, even for a full professor at Dartmouth College, which boasted more academic luminaries than universities four times its size. That's why Wallace Mortimer III, the college's revered president, and his wife, Serena, had spared no expense in celebrating their most acclaimed--and certainly their most acclaimed African American--faculty member.

It was clear to all who had gathered this evening that they were celebrating not just the Devonshire but a career that had been filled with a remarkably long list of achievements. Having won a Nobel five years earlier, Bledsoe had trumped his own legend, now becoming the first American to claim the world's two largest science awards. As his colleagues congratulated him on the Devonshire tonight, they teased him about the lavish treatment he'd receive when he and Kay took their complimentary trip to England and were feted at an elaborate ceremony hosted by the Queen. Everyone wanted to know what he was going to do with the $2 million prize money. "Whatever Kay decides," was the most that he was willing to share.

Bledsoe picked up his cell phone and called home. "I'm on my way, Curly," he said. He only called Kay that in private. It was a nickname he'd given her back when they were students together at the University of Chicago. On their first date, flustered and eager, he had mixed up the time and shown up an hour early. Kay, who had just gotten out of the shower, had opened the door expecting to find one of her girlfriends, and instead had found an equally surprised Wilson. She was horrified. Her customarily straightened hair was a mass of unruly curls. He laughed and she almost cried, but an intimacy and candor had been established between them that had only grown through their marriage.

"How was it?" Kay asked.

"Wally and Serena were excessive as always. I'm embarrassed to think how much they spent."

"Who was there?"

"Faces I haven't seen in years. Laurence Wilcox even came up from Harvard."

"Laurence? He hates you."

"Wally and Serena pulled out all the stops."

The Mortimers had evidently been determined to make this a bash to remember, assembling many of the foremost scientists in the academic community, humbling Bledsoe when he stood on the balcony of the mansion during the toast and looked at the crowd gathered below. The first person he had recognized was Yuri Mandryka, perhaps the greatest anatomist the Soviet Union had ever produced, stooped over his cane and raising his glass of bubbly. Laurence Wilcox, chairman of Harvard's biology department, had made the trek up from Boston and was standing with Olson Bulger, the precocious MIT mathematician who already had a calculus theorem named after him before he notched thirty. Wilcox hadn't spoken to Bledsoe since he'd turned down Wilcox's generous invitation to join the Harvard faculty. Wilcox was a giant in the field of evolutionary biology and admired around the world for his numerous publications and prolific laboratory. He chaired the most important meetings and sat on the boards of the most respected scientific institutions. No one had ever said no to an offer from Laurence Wilcox, except for Wilson Bledsoe who simply wrote, "Thanks for your offer, but Kay and I are happy tucked away in these quiet mountains. I'm afraid I'm captive to the indescribable peace just outside my back door."

"Can you believe Garret flew in all the way from Stanford?" Bledsoe said. "You'd figure he'd have a lot more important things to do than attend a damn party on the other side of the country." Garrett Templeton was the acclaimed chemist from Standford, who, despite winning a Nobel of his own, was most famous for twice being offered the presidency of Yale and twice turning it down. Like Bledsoe, he had already found the perfect place, a small plot of land on a cliff overlooking the Pacific.

"Well, I'm not surprised at all that Garrett showed," Kay said. "Maybe it'll finally hit home for you that the Devonshire is a big deal, sweetie. Everyone else seems to get that, but you."

"Just another reason to throw a party in that old mansion," Bledsoe huffed.

"And I'm proud that you stayed as long as you did," Kay laughed. She knew how much he would rather be toiling away in his laboratory than making small talk at a cocktail party.

"An hour was more than enough," Bledsoe said. "Oh but there was something very funny."

"Yeah?"

"When I left, a student parking cars asked me to autograph one of my textbooks."

"What did you write?"

"I didn't. I'm not some rock star, Curly. I'm a scientist."

"Wilson, whether you like it or not, you're a star and an inspiration to many people."

"Maybe so," Bledsoe said, relenting. "But like my father said, 'The minute you start believing your own headlines is the minute you stop earning them.' "

Kay chuckled. She'd heard that one many times. "Did you save your appetite?"

"You betchya. I only had one shrimp all night."

"Well, dinner will be ready when you get here."

"See ya soon, honey."

"Love ya." Kay made a loud kissing sound.

Bledsoe pictured the grilled salmon, mashed potatoes, and cucumbers she had waiting for him. It was his favorite meal, had been since he was a kid. His mother always made it for him on special occasions--bringing home a good report card or winning a chess competition. He pushed the old red Mercedes. He had a lot to get done. Right after dinner he planned on returning to the lab--his paper was finally ready to be submitted to Science. He could have waited until the next morning, but he had worked on this paper for almost a year, the longest it had ever taken him to publish a manuscript. Even with hundreds of articles to his credit, he still enjoyed that shot of adrenaline when the paper finally left his desk.

Bledsoe thought about the pleasantries he and President Mortimer had exchanged minutes earlier as Mortimer walked him to the door.

"We're very proud of you, Wilson," he had said in his clipped New England accent. "You've done well by Dartmouth and I'm personally grateful for that."

"The college has done well by Kay and me," Bledsoe said. "And the best is yet to come, I hope."

"You've got the Nobel and the Devonshire," Mortimer said. "It doesn't get better than that."

"I'm not talking awards, Wally. I'm talking about research. I've still got some good years left in me."

"You sound like you're on to something."

"The scent is getting stronger."

"Care to share with an old friend?"

"It'll be ready later tonight," Bledsoe said. "I'm still hammering out the final details." Like most researchers on the trail of something important, he didn't care to share his work before he was ready.

"You're looking a little tired, Wilson," Mortimer said. He had put his arm around Bledsoe's shoulders. "I know how tough the grind can be. Don't do what I did and miss out on many of life's opportunities while you're young. Take a semester off and travel the world with Kay."

"I've been giving that some serious thought," Bledsoe said. "We've never been to Asia."

"Enjoy yourselves. You have enough money. Go as long as you want. You'll always have a home here at Dartmouth."

"Thanks, Wally. Kay and I have been grateful for the friendship we've shared with you and Serena all these years."

"Where are you going now?"

"Home," Bledsoe said. "Kay is holding dinner for me."

"Send her my best," Mortimer said.

Then Wallace Mortimer III, perfectly groomed in a stiff navy blazer and a forest-green bow tie, did something he had never done in their twenty-year friendship. He reached out and hugged Wilson Bledsoe. Firmly.

The image of that hug lingered in Bledsoe's mind as he turned onto River Road and switched to high beams. The darkness in these mountain towns was overwhelming, especially on the small dirt roads. Drivers were left to find their way with the moon's reflection and a good dose of intuition.

The car careened down River Road, the longest in the Upper Valley, stretching along the embankment of the Connecticut River and snaking its way into the wooded mountainside. This road was always a challenge, one that students often drove for the sheer pleasure of its difficult terrain and unexpected turns. Bledsoe had narrowly missed several deer since moving out here and tonight's darkness, rain, and wet leaves made a perfect combination for disaster. So despite the temptation to test the engine of his beloved machine, he drove the blind curves carefull...

About this edition

• Publisher: Doubleday
• Publication date: 2004
• ISBN 10: 0385511361
• ISBN 13: 9780385511360
• Binding: Hardcover
• Number of pages: 336