A Sunday morning murder mystery exclusive

I thought Dan Webster would have it plastered all over the Spokesman-Review this morning. I knew better than to expect to see anything about it in the North Idaho Sunday. After all, it doesn't have anything to do with Extreme Makeovers of homes or journalism. And, I doubt you'll hear anything about it on K-spit Radio Station here in Sandpoint today because they're stickin' to the cowboy songs.

So, as "Slightdetour" readers, I'm presenting you a genuINE exclusive bit of news. Tell folks you read it here first, and this news has abolutely nothing to do with controversial bare bottoms mooning the Westerners. Last I heard, the cartoonist still lives-----well-hidden in the bushes, probably praying a lot.

Actually, my hot news is a big mystery.

Now, to get you more in tune with this mystery, I'll tell you it's mostly red with big yellow letters. It's about the size of a loaf of flattened bread, so forget using the box as a benchmark. There's a bronze star, set off with a Filson red-and-black checkered cap, smack dab in its center. There's a goofy guy named Bo Tully involved, and he's a fearless law man.

Have ya guessed it yet?

Well, let me tell ya a little more. The number '16" is significant. A guy named Simon and a guy named Schuster bank-rolled this mystery. There's an lying Irishman with a white beard involved. And, he knows how to tell some whoppers. In fact, once, in a Sandpoint Magazine story, I termed him and his buddy Bootsie as the "mouths of the Clark Fork River." Bootsie loved the nickname so much, he uses it with his newspaper column.

Any idea now?

Well, the mouths of the Clark Fork River like to fish. Problem is they don't often catch anything, so when they don't catch anything, their tales kinda grow a bit. And this Irishman can make up some pretty gigantic fibs about fishing and hunting and strange bicycle riders-----and, now, about strange law men.

I'll bet by now you've guessed that I'm talking about our premier North Idaho literary product, Mr. Pat McManus. His newest book hit the shelves this week, and it's a novel. He's been telling me about this novel for just about as long as I've known him, and that's got to be at least 26 years. Well, maybe 25.5. Along with his 15 other story collections, he's had this novel floating around in his mind for some time.

The first time I heard about it, he was planning to set it in Sandpoint in the 1940s, but I've read the first chapter, and there's a Ford Explorer in it. Were Ford Explorers alive in the 1940s? Maybe his mind did some updates.

The last time I talked to him was the day he, Bootsie and I got together for lunch at Connie's and then came out here to my house for tea and crumpets-----and lies. While they sampled my tea and my crumpets and wouldn't shut up, I recorded their musings on my laptop. Occasionally, I took time-outs to laugh and even got down on the kitchen floor and rolled around from giggling way too much.

During that afternoon social party, Pat told me he was writing 1,000 words a day to get his novel finished. That was two years ago. Well, he finally got it done, and it's on the shelves at Vanderford's and The Corner Book Store. I'll bet some other stores have it too. I purchased my copy yesterday and have read the first chapter. It's about the sheriff of Blight, Idaho, who receives a call about a male body in a pin-striped suit hanging over a fence out at the Batim Scragg residence.

Now, that's all I can tell you today. I could tell you a whole lot more about Sheriff Bo Tully's impressive arsenal or about Batim's sons, Lem and Lister, but I'm gonna let you learn about that yourself. I should tell you that the bronze star with the Filson is really a badge and that the book title is The Blight Way. It's pretty cool when the author's gotten so important and so darned famous that his name dwarfs the title.

Go buy the book, which does happen to be Mr. Patrick F. McManus' 16th. And, it's lookin' like we all might have some fun goin' alongside Mr. Tully as he tries to solve the mystery of the pinstripe-suit murder in the Scragg pasture.

And, please, humor me by telling the folks at the book stores that you read about it here "fust" on "Slightdetour."