IT’S MEMPHIS 1987 AND THINGS ARE FIXIN’ TO GET ALL SHOOK UP
Elvis didn't live into the 1980s, but he does in "Last Bridge to Memphis," an alternate-history thriller. He may be chewed up, spit out, and stepped on, but Elvis ain’t dead. Ten years after illness and scandal dragged his life into the dirt, he’s struggling to find meaning in a world that’s all but forgotten him.
Enter young reporter Tom Cirone—a mess of blues—stuck in Memphis, Tennessee, pondering all the stupid in his life. Tom’s on the run from a tragic past. But the running stops when he stumbles onto a deadly shooting … and a rock ’n’ roll legend.
When Tom spies Elvis at the crime scene, it sparks an improbable friendship, a bond that will soon be tested as Tom’s obsession with “the story” sends them shaking, rattling and rolling down a treacherous road of blackmail and betrayal.
For Tom, it’s a shot at letting go of all the stupid. For the King, it’s a desperate final curtain. But as their risky scheme to nail a killer unfolds, they could find themselves caught in a trap … and neither may walk out alive.
IT’S MEMPHIS 1987 AND THINGS ARE FIXIN’ TO GET ALL SHOOK UP
Elvis didn't live into the 1980s, but he does in "Last Bridge to Memphis," an alternate-history thriller. He may be chewed up, spit out, and stepped on, but Elvis ain’t dead. Ten years after illness and scandal dragged his life into the dirt, he’s struggling to find meaning in a world that’s all but forgotten him.
Enter young reporter Tom Cirone—a mess of blues—stuck in Memphis, Tennessee, pondering all the stupid in his life. Tom’s on the run from a tragic past. But the running stops when he stumbles onto a deadly shooting … and a rock ’n’ roll legend.
When Tom spies Elvis at the crime scene, it sparks an improbable friendship, a bond that will soon be tested as Tom’s obsession with “the story” sends them shaking, rattling and rolling down a treacherous road of blackmail and betrayal.
For Tom, it’s a shot at letting go of all the stupid. For the King, it’s a desperate final curtain. But as their risky scheme to nail a killer unfolds, they could find themselves caught in a trap … and neither may walk out alive.
When I was four, I killed my twin.
Everyone said so.
It wasn’t murder. Not like with a gun or a knife. But my brother is dead just the same.
You never forget something like that.
Except, I recalled none of it. Not one lousy memory of the single worst night of my life. Unless you count the visions.
A living, breathing, guilty conscience of a nightmare, those visions shadowed me for decades. Spiking my brain on the playground, on the soccer field. Stabbing my dreams, waking me screaming into the darkness. Mother, bless her heart, spared few words of comfort, only an admonition to stop disturbing everyone’s sleep.
When I departed for college, leaving the scene of my crime behind, I pursued journalism. Maybe if I got a job in news, I could lose myself in other people’s misery, bury mine. But those soul-sucking visions stalked me from TV station to TV station, town to godawful town, trailing in my wake like a satanic U-Haul.
A freakin’ sob story is what it is.
And if that’s all there was to it, a damn tragedy, too. Mind you, it’s still a tragedy, but that isn’t all there is to the story. Because of Elvis.
I was just twenty-nine and in the midst of my stint as a reporter in Memphis, Tennessee when we crossed paths. This was ten years after Presley had the heart attack that nearly did him in. Long after he’d hung up his music career and started tagging along with the cops. The newspapers pronounced him pretty much done. Chewed up, spit out, stepped on. Drifting, doin’ squat. But once he welcomed you into his world, you didn’t give a hoot about all that. He had a magnetic effect. He got under your skin. He stuck on you.
“Everyone’s entitled to one stupid-ass move, son,” he used to say. It made a lot of sense, especially since I’d made more than one stupid-ass move myself.
Mostly, he made sense. Like the time he observed, “Are you sure your balls are screwed on right, Thomas? I could swear them balls ain’t screwed on right.”
He wasn’t wrong. But when Elvis did what he did—after he committed his own altruistic stupid-ass move—I screwed my balls on right. I let go of all the stupid in my life.
Yep, I let go. It’s what they all professed I should have done to begin with.
Which brings us back to the freakin’ tragic childhood sob story.
How many times since I became twinless at four had the folks drummed their noxious refrain into my head? If you would have just let go. If only I’d let go of his goddamn hand, my brother would still be here and maybe I wouldn’t. Wouldn’t be who I was.
Not a murderer. But ... a killer.
And here I stood, a quarter century later, about to do it again.
What if a young reporter’s life had become entangled with Elvis Presley’s? Among the many what-ifs Jim Condelles had, of course with regards to the persona of the legend Elvis Presley, this one slipped through, resulting in Last Bridge to Memphis. Here, the readers meet Tom Cirone, who has already made a name in television. From one major incident in his life, Tom adopts a kitten, loses a female intern he intimately got involved with, gets accused of inserting himself in the news, and, more importantly, crosses paths with Danny Fisher. The tension escalates as Tom finds himself embroiled in the high-stakes Carl Walker’s case, a situation that could break his career—or lead to murder. Even so, Tom falls in love.
Last Bridge to Memphis is more in the romance genre, seeing as Tom is a conqueror of women’s hearts, which is why romance readers will deem it highly consumable. To a more significant degree, it's a crime book: police brutality sits at the center, as does violence against women. Historically, it also proves an interesting read as it reminds us of the legend Elvis Presley. To all that’s said, Jim takes his time unraveling this story, beginning with an incident that hooks the reader, followed by events that make the novel very readable, such as romantic scenes, confrontations, and, specifically, behind-the-scenes dynamics in the newsroom.
Jim excels in character development. A good example is Tom, known mostly as Rambo. He’s plagued with the guilt of the past, and because he’s not so much a quitter, even when intimidated and reprimanded at work, he becomes the enemy of the police. Meredith is funny, not forthright to Tom at first, but it becomes apparent why, and she’s such a woman in love. Danny is quite an intriguing guy, showing up unexpectedly and friendly, especially to Tom, almost as though he’s his guardian angel. In addition, there’s a mystery to this man.
The other thing to love about this book is the ending. It answers all the questions a reader might’ve gathered in the course of the reading, specifically, will Valerie and Tom ever meet again? Will Meredith’s love for Tom hold?