Wicked Wednesday – Behind the Scenes Philadelphia

SINS OF THE FLESH Grand Central Publishing Forever November 2009I love Philadelphia. Went to school on the Main Line and now have been visiting pretty regularly. There are so many interesting and fun things to do. Historical things like Constitution Hall and the Liberty Bell. Educational things like the Art Museum and Franklin Institute. Funky things like South Street and creepy things like the Mutter Museum. Tasty things like Pat’s Cheesesteaks and the Italian Market.

Loving Philly so much, I knew it was time to pay it homage in a novel and so I set some of the early scenes in SINS OF THE FLESH in Philadelphia.

Copyright has expired and work is in the public domainCaterina Shaw, the heroine, is a celebrated cellist who plays with an orchestra in the Kimmel Center and lives not that far away in a townhouse just off South Street. She also has spent time playing at the Academy of Music. The Academy is one of the oldest opera houses in America that is still in use for its original intent. It’s a National Historic landmark which sits on the corner of Broad and Locust Streets in Philadelphia.

One of the early scenes in the novel describes a chase through the Academy of Music building where the heroine has sought refuge. Here’s a little excerpt from that scene.

*****

He continued down the section of Broad known as the Avenue of the Arts until he stood in front of the plain red brick facade of the Academy of Music.

The building was quiet tonight. The only life was the muted glow of the gas lanterns glimmering light onto the empty sidewalks surrounding the building.

The gated entrance near the front of the building was too conspicuous, even though the recessed stage door lay in the shadows, providing some protection from prying eyes.

Mick had downloaded the blueprints for the building from the Internet and knew just where to go. Turning onto Locust, he proceeded to a narrow alley behind the building. The light from the street lamps illuminated the mouth of the alley, but beyond that only darkness lingered.

He looked around.

The cobblestoned street was empty of any pedestrians, so he slipped into the narrow alley and paused a few steps in to allow his eyes to adjust to the lack of light and to check for signs of anyone else.

The long slender alley was also empty.

Time for him to move in.

He stole down the alley while hugging the wall, the ground uneven beneath his feet. The area lit only by the small beam from a flashlight he pulled from his pocket. He moved quickly, every action efficiently cautious, until he located the entrance shown on the blueprints.

Pointing the flashlight at the door, he prepared to jimmy the lock but found that someone had beaten him to it. Rather inexpertly at that. Large sharp gouges along the seam of the door and at the lock gleamed silvery bright in the beam from his flashlight.

He reached behind him, withdrew his 9 mm Glock from beneath his leather jacket and released the safety. With a gloved hand, he slowly opened the door and risked but a sharp glance inside before he cleared the entrance.

The interior was almost as gloomy as the night outside, but since his eyes had adjusted already, he could make out the tangle of shapes before him.

Large lockers and an assortment of equipment lined the edges of a hallway, but a fairly wide and navigable path existed down the center. Slowly he inched along, pausing well before the low light cast by an illuminated exit sign so that he would remain hidden.

He recalled from the building plans where the stairs would be that led to the manager’s office and dressing rooms, as well as the stairs to the basement level and trap door area. Crouching, he rushed past the dim circle of light cast by the exit sign.

As he did so his foot brushed against a cable housing on the ground. It slithered and shook like an angry rattlesnake. The rattle bounced loudly off the walls in the quiet of the hall and he stilled, waiting to see if anyone would respond to the sound.

Only silence answered.

Mick released a low grateful sigh and proceeded, decidedly more careful of the objects littering the floor and sides of the hall. More cables. A Klieg light. A box brimming with colored gels for the spotlights.

Muscles tense, every inch of him on alert, he skirted all the items until he neared the stairs to the basement level.

Pausing, he peered down the darkened stairway, vigilant for any signs of life.

As before, the space was empty and the area down below was deadly quiet.

He took the first step down the stairs.

A muffled thud sounded in back of him.

Copyright 2009 Caridad Pineiro Scordato

Wicked Wednesday – SINS OF THE FLESH

sinscoversmallThe cover gods have been very very good to me! Just look at the stunning front and back covers for my November release SINS OF THE FLESH. A big thanks to my publisher – Grand Central Publishing – and all involved with producing such works of art! And because its Wicked Wednesday, I’m giving you a little tidbit from SINS OF THE FLESH as well as the enticing back cover copy!

Back Cover Copy:
Caterina Shaw’s days are numbered. Her only chance for survival is a highly experimental gene treatment – a risk she willingly takes. But now Caterina barely recognizes herself. She has new, terrifying powers, an exotic, arresting body — and she’s been accused of a savage murder, sending her on the run.
sinsbacksmall
Mick Carrera is a mercenary and an expert at capturing elusive, clever prey. Yet the woman he’s hunting down is far from the vicious killer he’s been told to expect: Caterina is wounded, vulnerable, and a startling mystery of medical science. Even more, she’s a beautiful woman whose innocent sensuality tempts Mick to show her exactly how thrilling pleasure can be. The heat that builds between them is irresistible, but surrendering to it could kill them both . . . for a dangerous group is plotting its next move using Caterina as its deadly pawn.


Prologue

The day the music died, Caterina Shaw did as well.

Not physically, although she understood the death of her body was inevitable. She had come to terms with that reality some time ago. She had even managed to deal with the blindness caused by the tumor eating away her brain. But then the pain had become so great that it had silenced the music, stealing away the only thing that had made life worth the anguish.

“You understand this treatment is new and uncertain,” Dr. Rudy Wells explained, his voice smooth and comforting. The touch of his hand, warm and reassuring, came against hers as it rested on her thigh.

“I understand,” she said and faced the direction of that calming voice.

Another person abruptly chimed in, his tones as strident and grating as a badly played oboe. “We’ll begin with laser surgery to remove the bulk of the tumor followed by two different courses of gene therapy.”

Two? she wondered and sensed Dr. Wells’ hesitation as well from the tremble that skated across his fingers. He removed his hand from hers and said, “Dr. Edwards believes that we can not only shut down the tumor growing in your brain, but possibly regrow the portion of your optic nerve that the tumor damaged.”

Caterina’s only wish when considering the experimental treatment had been to stop the pain so that she could play her cello once again. So that her last months would be filled with the vitality her music provided.

It was through her music that she lived. That her mother lived, Caterina thought, recalling the passion she had felt as a small child when her mother had played the piano for her; the way her mother’s fingers had coaxed life from the keys much like she now did with a stroke of her bow and the deft touch of her fingers on the strings of her cello.

Or at least like she had up until the cancer had put an end to her music, bringing her life to a close. Except now she was being told something different.

Caterina had never thought about eliminating the tumor. Every prognosis so far had been that she was terminal. Now these new doctors told her not only that might she live, but that she might actually see again too. She didn’t dare believe that she would be able to get her old life back completely, as well as her sight but . . .

“You think I’ll be able to recover? To see again?” Caterina asked, needing to be sure she had understood correctly.

“The risks are great, my dear,” Dr. Wells urged gently.

“But you qualify for the human trials because of the advanced state of your illness, Ms. Shaw,” Dr. Edwards added, annoyance at his partner evident in the staccato beats of his voice.

Her advanced state which could possibly bring death even with this treatment, Caterina thought. Not that she feared her end. What she did fear was letting the pain in her head rob her of the one thing she could not live without.

Her music.

She knew without hesitation that it was worth any risk to regain that part of her. To drive back the illness so she could play her cello once more and reanimate her heart for as long as she had left if the treatments couldn’t stop the tumor.

“What do you need me to do?”

Copyright 2009 Caridad Pineiro Scordato