Lawrence Block - The Scoreless Thai (aka Two For Tanner)

But that turned out to be uncommonly difficult. I eventually learned that just a week or two earlier a hitchhiker had pulled a knife on a man, forcing his benefactor to drive miles out of his way before releasing him unharmed. Now back home, if this got any coverage at all, the leadline would have been something along the lines of “Kindly Hitchhiker Spares Moron’s Life.” But in Ireland, where this sort of thing didn’t happen, it was a nine-days wonder, and people who’d always picked up hitchhikers without a second thought now kept their eyes fixed straight ahead and drove on by.

It took a while, but I managed to hitchhike to Arklow. I think that’s where I bought the bike, but it may have been further along, in Wexford Town. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but it turned out to be anything but.

For two reasons, really. One was that I was in very hilly terrain, and that I was always going downhill on a bike that was careening out of control or walking alongside the bike as I pushed it up a hill.

In the rain.

I kept at it, and I got as far as a town called Enniscorthy. I knew the town from a ballad of the 1798 Rising. I put up at a bed and breakfast run by a Mrs. Twomey, whose young son greatly admired the bicycle. I tried with all the guile of a New Yorker to sell that bicycle to Mrs. Twomey, and she, innocent denizen of rural Ireland, just bided her time while the price dropped. After I’d been there three days – a long time to be in Enniscorthy, unless Father Murphy’s leading you in battle against the yeomen – I offered to give Mrs. Twomey the bike in exchange for what I owed her for my bed and breakfast. She decided that would be all right, and I hoisted my knapsack and got out of there, and by then, of course, all Ireland had forgotten about the villainous hitchhiker, and I had no trouble getting rides – to Cork City, and then on to Bantry.

In Bantry, in the Anchor Hotel, I bought an Olivetti portable typewriter and began writing The Scoreless Thai. I wrote three or four chapters, and by then it was the middle of March, and something made me decide to return to the life I’d left behind in the States. I hitchhiked to Shannon and flew home, and when I’d landed I got back to work and wrote the rest of the book.

Tanner’s previous adventures all took place in Europe. Something about the character seemed to lend itself to border-hopping around the crazy quilt of Eastern Europe, and I wasn’t sure how well Tanner’s particular skills would lend themselves to an Asian landscape. I guess it worked out okay.

I thought of the title early on, and found it irresistible, even inevitable. A story about a Siamese who couldn’t get laid? I mean, what else could you possibly call it?

Some witling at Fawcett promptly changed it to Two for Tanner . I can’t begin to guess why, anymore than I can tell you who the titular two were supposed to be. Sheesh. The Scorless Thai, that’s the title, now and forever.

Lawrence Block

Greenwich Village

New York Times bestselling author LAWRENCE BLOCKis one of the most widely recognized names in the crime fiction genre. He has been named a Grand Master of the Mystery Writers of America and is a four-time winner of the prestigious Edgar® and Shamus awards, as well as a recipient of prizes in France, Germany, and Japan. He received the Diamond Dagger from the British Crime Writers’ Association, only the third American (after Sara Paretsky and Ed McBain) to be given this award. He is a prolific author, having written more than fifty books and numerous short stories, and is a devoted New Yorker who spends much of his time traveling. Readers can visit his website at www.lawrenceblock.com .