‘Wrongs’ makes for a right speedy, good read

While reading Andy Straka’s fourth thriller, “Record of Wrongs,” the thought occurred that speed-reading might be self-taught through the compulsive turning of pages. The urge to 1) solve the mystery of whodunit, and 2) prove that one is superior in intellect by how quickly said perp is fingered, can inspire new heights of rapid eye movements.

“Wrongs” is a case in point, with an imaginative theme at its core. The publisher’s press release makes mention of John Grisham’s lone nonfiction book, “The Innocent Man,” in which DNA plays a vital role in overturning a false conviction. Straka’s book takes a literary leap in another direction, asking whether a man released from prison after serving 10 years for the rape and murder of a college student could still be involved in spite of DNA clearance.

The author asks us to suspend disbelief even further by presenting the person most passionate about finding the killer. Ruth Crawford, mother of 20-year old Gwen, teams up with the newly released Quentin Price to try to find out what happened and who ended her daughter’s life. An unlikely pairing between mother and ex-prisoner — combined with a lingering suspicion that, in spite of DNA proof, the man Ruth trusts could know more than he is telling her — adds to the suspense.

We are in upper New York State, and Straka — who now lives in Virginia, but is a native of that area — knows his territory well. The action takes place in working-class Binghamton, where Ruth is a hard-drinking waitress with a car as mechanically precarious as her emotional state and lust for revenge. When she turns up in Auburn as Quentin is released from prison and offers to drive him back to Binghamton, he feels “freaky.” No wonder. After all, as he tells Ruth, “Since I’m supposed to be the animal who raped and murdered your daughter.”

The two develop an odd, guarded relationship, and Straka provides us with a full cast of characters, each one sparingly but carefully delineated. There’s Jack Crawford, the dead girl’s father, now a wealthy private investigator, long-divorced from Ruth and in love with a married woman. The author also gives the reader an assortment of police personnel — men and women, black and white, local and imported.

Racial differences are not ignored, particularly the one between Quentin, who is black, and Ruth, who is white. Although not an overwhelming flood, race remains an undercurrent, not only between this unlikely team who go about tracking down the guy who got away. But then, did he?

We also meet Quentin’s attorney — a woman determined to get compensation for her client, who had been a security guard at the college where Gwen was a student. Compensation, Christine Shackleford tells Quentin, for “… your several years of lost wages at the college, among other things. But as I said, once we get to the punitive phase, damages will amount to a lot more than that. You could be looking at a settlement that approaches seven figures.”

Straka is an interesting writer. He doesn’t go in for long, expository passages, preferring instead, sharp, crackling dialogue. One or two-liners serve him well. Something I found a bit off-putting, however, was his way of describing getting into an elevator as “climbing.” I’ve done my share of elevator riding and never once was I moved to burst into a “Sound of Music” ode to climbing every, um, elevator.

Tension builds slowly and inevitably as we get further into the book. Gwen’s 31st birthday is coming up and occasion for the receipt of scary cards. Having read lots of mysteries in my life, I am acutely aware that’s a point where one word — one seemingly throw-away word — is the key clue to resolution. The word is not a star but, rather, a featured player, and when I came upon it — in the last third of the book — I knew who the guilty one was.

That didn’t lessen my enjoyment of “Wrongs.” Nor my admiration for the skill shown by Straka in his careful and deliberate recounting of events, findings, relationships, both likely and unlikely. These are real people — lonely, desperate, evil, misunderstood, yearning for something or someone better. And they come alive on these pages, whether turned slowly or rapidly.

An example, Jack ending a phone conversation with his ex-wife: “ ‘Goodbye, Ruth.’ He pushed the button on his phone to end the call. You’re dead to me, he thought. Like Hannah. Like everybody. Like Gwen.”

I finished the book wishing I knew more about Quentin Price. I want to know what happened to him next. Did he get a better job than clearing tables at the cafe where Ruth worked? Did he continue to study criminology, and perhaps become a P.I.?

I hope that Andy Straka considers writing a sequel to “Record of Wrongs,” because I’d like to know if things started to go right for him.

But all that’s dependent on whether Quentin did or did not have anything to do with the brutal murder of Gwen, and you won’t discover that until and unless you read this book almost up to the last, quickly-reached page. Quickly, because you will be speed-reading.