First sentence, first page, a first for me by donalee Moulton

Last month I talked about my new book Melt. This month I thought I’d share the opening page with you. It’s a different kind of first page for me, but then Melt is a different kind of book for me.

It’s the second in the Lotus Detective Agency series, and my first sequel. The first book, Bind, introduced three women who meet in a yoga studio and join forces to discover who’s stolen a Patek Philippe watch from what was supposed to be a secure locker. It opens gently basking in the warmth and serenity of the Asana yoga studio. There is no basking in Melt.

The first line came quickly. I deleted it just as quickly. It came back and stubbornly refused to move from top spot. I asked others—writers, editors, friends, wonderful strangers who turned up at my readings—for their opinion. Most liked it. Some loved it. Some shuddered.

Now I get to ask you what you think about the first sentence, and the first page. As you’ll read, there’s a bit of theme in these first 500 words.

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Excerpt

Luke’s balls are itchy.

His left hand, casually resting on his left thigh, is mere inches from his testicles. He could surreptitiously edge his hand forward and find relief.

“Surreptitiously” is not a word in Luke’s usual vocabulary. It has nothing to do with IQ. Indeed, Luke is smart enough to read the room before he moves his hand a nanometer. He scans the beige walls, the brown tables, the black gowns, the onyx gavel. A courtroom, he concludes, is not the best place to scratch your scrotum. Luke clenches his legs together to stop the itching. Now he has to piss.

Luke looks up to see the judge looking down at him. “I want to confirm your plea. You understand by pleading guilty to trafficking a schedule one drug you could spend 25 years in a federal prison.”

This is not news to Luke. It is not good news, certainly, but it is not a surprise. It is what he has signed on for. Luke’s lawyer nudges him. Luke stands up. He returns the judge’s gaze without malice or defiance. “Yes, your honor, I understand.”

The associate chief justice of the supreme court of Nova Scotia quickly and efficiently takes in Luke’s demeanor, his clarity of voice. She takes in his blue suit, at least one size too large; his tartan tie, with Value Village written all over it; his left hand, which seems to have a small twitch. She looks into Luke Castle’s eyes. She sees what she often sees: fear. What she does not see is hope.

Justice Louise Redmond shifts her gaze to the Crown prosecutor. Then to defense counsel. She reaches for the gavel. “I am not sentencing a seventeen-year-old boy to federal prison before I have a fitness assessment conducted.” The judicial mallet hits its thick round oak base. “Under section 672.11 of the Criminal Code of Canada, I hereby order a comprehensive competency assessment be conducted on Lucas Raymond Castle. Sentencing will follow pending the results of the assessment.”

There is a shuffle of chairs as the lawyers rise. They reach for their files and their briefcases. The court reporter removes the flash drive from the stenograph. The bailiff moves toward the rear door that leads into the judges’ private offices. Justice Louise Redmond is not finished, however. She stands. “I would like to see counsel in my chambers immediately.”  Looking into the public gallery, she locks eyes with an attractive man in a grey suit and black turtleneck that contrasts perfectly with his onyx skin. “Detective Terrell, please join us.”

Justice Redmond walks through the rear door without looking back. The two lawyers look at each other and shrug. They turn to look at Detective First Class Michael Terrell. He shrugs.

Luke Castle scratches his balls.