Review: The Venturi Effect by Sage Webb

Posted on December 4, 2020 by Nadene @ Totally Addicted to Reading in Reviews / 20 Comments


The Venturi Effect by Sage Webb proved to be a riveting legal procedural. Set in the beautiful island of St. Kitts and Nevis and the state of Michigan, the story follows Devlin Winters, a lawyer whose licence the bar association had suspended. She currently works as a Carny. Down on her luck, she is a far cry from the person she used to be. She had no interest in returning to the cutthroat legal world and the drama associated with the courtroom. However, when a blast from her past in form of her ex, Nils Bryson, came knocking, she was drawn back into the very world she tried to escape.


The characters whose pasts are linked proved to be interesting and complex, with my least favourite being the prosecuting attorney, Xavier Charles. I found him to be pompous and condescending. His personal interest in the case and the manner in which he handled didnโ€™t win him any favours with the reader. The case in question was one of tax fraud, a situation to which I can relate from working in the field of taxation. The lengths persons will go evade paying taxes never cease to amaze me. This story provided some insight into those actions.


I admired Devlin. Her willingness to re-enter the world she walked away from because of the pressures she experienced to help a friend in need showed her caring nature. Her intelligence and keen sense of observation proved to be an asset to the entire chain of events. I loved how the author portrayed her vulnerabilities. Here we have a strong woman who was not afraid to admit her weaknesses and failures.


It made me happy to see Devlin and Nils coming to terms with the pain from their past, a process which brought about forgiveness and healing and led to a second chance at love.


The story began on a slow note but gradually build up as it progressed. Despite the slow start, the events had me intrigued, and I had a hard time putting the book down. It delivered a mix of suspense and romance, where the latter was served as a side dish. I had a blast with how the events unfolded and the end took me by surprise. I had many theories about the end, but none came close to the actual conclusion. I thought it ended on a wonderful note, although I had hoped that Devlin would have been the one to figure it out and sock it to the pompous and irritating Xavier Charles.


Conclusion/Recommendation
Overall, The Venturi Effect delivered a riveting tale, which would appeal to fans of legal procedurals.

ย 

 

Chapter 1
Carny


Red metal boxes lined the wood-railed tourist boardwalk, giving children access to fish food if the kids could finagle quarters from parents wilted and forlorn in the triple-digit Gulf Coast heat. With the food, kids could create great frenzies of red drum, snook, spotted sea trout, or whatever fish species gathered at the boardwalkโ€™s pilings in agitated silver vortices. Devlin Winters lifted her ballcap and wiped a sleeve across her brow. She favored long-sleeved t-shirts for just this reasonโ€”their mopping properties . . . and to protect her from the Galveston Bay sun in its unrelenting effort to grill her and the other boardwalk barkers. In the two years sheโ€™d been on the boardwalk, sheโ€™d never fed the fish.

A kid stopped beside one of the boxes.

โ€œCan I have a quarter, mommy?โ€ the boy asked.

He looked about eight or nine, though Devlin had little interest in guessing accurately the ages of the pint-sized patrons fueling her income stream.

โ€œIโ€™m not sure I have one,โ€ the mom replied.

She appeared a bit younger than Devlin, maybe late twenties.

Once upon a time, Devlin would have looked at a mother like that and made a snide remark about crib lizards and dead ends, but nine bucks an hour in the sun makes it awfully hard for a carny to judge others. Lacking a more interesting subject, Devlin watched the woman paw through a backpack-sized purse. The chick produced a quarter and handed it to the kid, who dropped it into the boxโ€™s payment slot and ground the dial, catching in his miniature palm a limited portion of the fish food that spilled out of the machine when he lifted the metal flap. The majority of the pellets rained down onto the wooden boardwalk planks, bounced, and disappeared through the cracks between the planks.

Devlin fancied she could hear the tiny fish-food BBs hitting brown water: plink, plink, plink. Once upon another time, when she was still at Sondheim Baker, but toward the end, she would go outside in the middle of the day. Instead of sitting at her desk, drafting appellate briefs for the Seventh Circuit, she would ride the elevator down to La Salle, down seven hundred feet of glass and stainless steel and terribly expensive architecture. She would drop down those elevator cables at random times, at times rich, successful attorneys should have been at their desks. And she would turn left out of that great glass building the color of the sky and walk over to the river, that nothing-like-the-Styx river that mankind had turned back on itself, contrary to nature.

She would stand and look down into the water, which was sometimes emerald, sometimes the color of jeans before they are ever washed. Once or twice, she had reached into her purse (expensive purses, Magnificent Mile purses from Burberry and Gucci and Hermรจs) and she had dug around until sheโ€™d found a penny. Sheโ€™d dropped the penny into the river and, even now, on the sauna-hot boardwalk with the whistle of the kid-sized train behind her and the pulses of unimpressive pop music overhead, she was sure she could hear those pennies hit the Chicago River, hit and sink down, down, and farther down.

Plink. Plink. Pliโ€”

โ€œYou want to try this one?โ€

The fish-feeding entertainment had run its course and the mother stood in front of the water-gun game Devlin guarded. She gestured toward Devlin and the row of stools in front of their narrow-barreled water guns.

โ€œIs it hard?โ€ The kid looked up at his mom, and the mom turned to Devlin.

โ€œHe can do it, right?โ€ she asked. โ€œI mean, he can figure it out, right?โ€

โ€œSure, itโ€™s easy.โ€ Devlin lifted her cap for another mop across her hairline, and then wiped perspiration away from her eyes under her sunglasses. โ€œItโ€™s fun, little dude,โ€ she said to the kid in his obviously secondhand clothes.

She wanted to care, wanted to be โ€œaffableโ€ or whatever it is a carny should be toward summerโ€™s ice-cream-eating cash-crop flux of kids. But wanting alone, without effort, is never enough.

The mom held out a five-dollar bill.

โ€œYou both wanna do it? I gotta have more than one person to run it for a prize.โ€ Devlin rubbed the top of her right flip flop and foot against her left calf.

โ€œOh,โ€ the woman said, โ€œI wasnโ€™t planning to play. Iโ€™m no good at these things.โ€

โ€œUm,โ€ Devlin stepped out of the shade of the gameโ€™s nook and cast her eyes up and down the boardwalk, โ€œweโ€™ll find some more kids.โ€ She took the womanโ€™s money without looking away from the walkway and the beggarly seabirds.

A young couple, likely playing hooky from jobs in Houston, held the hands of a girl sporting jet-black pigtails and lopsided glasses.

โ€œStep right up, princess. You wanna win a unicorn, right?โ€ Devlin reached back into her game nook and snatched a pink toy from the wall of unicorns, butterflies, bees, and unlicensed lookalikes of characters from movies Devlin had never heard of. She dangled the thing in the girlโ€™s direction.

โ€œWould you like to play, habibti?โ€ The mom jiggled the girlโ€™s arm.

โ€œTell ya what.โ€ Devlin turned to the mom. โ€œThe whole family can play for five bucks. Weโ€™re just trying to get some games going, give away some prizes to these cuties.โ€ She turned back to the first mother. โ€œAnd donโ€™t worry, Iโ€™ll give him three games for the fiver.โ€

โ€œHear that, Vince? Youโ€™ll get to play a few times. Is that cool?โ€

Vince picked at his crotch. Devlin looked away.

โ€œYes, weโ€™ll all play,โ€ the second mother said. The dad pulled a twenty out of a pocket and Devlin started to make change while Vinceโ€™s mom hefted Vince onto a stool.

โ€œJust a five back,โ€ the father said. โ€œWeโ€™ll play a few times.โ€

โ€œSure thing,โ€ Devlin replied. Then she raised her voice to run through the rules of the game, to explain how the water guns spraying and hitting the targets would raise plastic boats in a boat race to buzzers at the top of the game contraption. She offered some tired words of encouragement, got nods from everyone, and counted down. โ€œThree, two, one.โ€

She pushed the button and the game loosed a bell sound across the boardwalk.

A guy in waiterโ€™s livery hurried past, hustling toward one of the boardwalkโ€™s various restaurants, with their patios overlooking the channel and Galveston Bay. Heโ€™d be serving people margaritas and gimlets in just a few more steps and minutes. Devlin wanted a gimlet.

She drew a deep breath, turned back to her charges. โ€œClose race here, friends.โ€

An โ€™80s-vintage Hunter sailboat slid past in the channel, leaving Galveston Bay and making its way back to one of the marinas up the waterway on Clear Lake.

When Devlin turned back to her marksmen, the girlโ€™s motherโ€™s boat had almost reached the buzzer.

โ€œLooks like weโ€™ve got a leader here. Come on, madam. Youโ€™re almost there.โ€

Devlin checked her watch. Sheโ€™d be off in less than an hour. Sheโ€™d be back on her own boat fifteen minutes after that, with an unopened bottle of Bombay Sapphire and a net full of limes rocking above the galley sink.

The buzzer blared.

โ€œLooks like we have a winner. Congratulations, madam.โ€ Devlin clapped three times. โ€œNow would you like a unicorn, a butterfly, or,โ€ Devlin pulled a four-inch-tall creature from the wall, not knowing how to describe it, โ€œthis little guy?โ€ She held it out for the womanโ€™s inspection.

โ€œHabibti, you pick.โ€ The mom patted her daughterโ€™s back. The kid didnโ€™t say anything, just pointed at the butterfly.

โ€œButterfly it is, beautiful.โ€ Devlin unclipped the toy from the wall of plush junk and handed it to the girl. โ€œWell, weโ€™ve got some competition for this next one, folks, now that youโ€™re all warmed up. Take a breather. Weโ€™ll start the next game when youโ€™re ready.โ€

โ€œCan I try?โ€ A boy pulled at a broad-shouldered manโ€™s hand, leading the guy toward the row of stools. It was hard to tell parentage with these kids and their mixed-up step- and half- and melded-in-other-ways families, and with this one, the kidโ€™s dark curls and earnest eyes contrasted with the dudeโ€™s Nordic features and reminded Devlin of a roommate sheโ€™d had in undergrad, a girl from Haiti whoโ€™d taught Devlin about pikliz. Devlin hadnโ€™t thought about Haitian food in ages. She decided she would google it later and see what she could find in Houston. A drive to discover somewhere new to eat would do her good.

Any chance at plantains and pikliz would have to wait, though. The kid and the dude now stood in front of Devlin. Ultra-dark sunglasses hid the guyโ€™s eyes, and a ballcap with a local yacht brokerageโ€™s logo embroidered on it cast a shadow over his face. Devlin cocked her head. She narrowed her eyes and hoped her own sunglasses were doing as good a job of being barriers. He reminded her ofโ€”

โ€œStill time to add another player?โ€ The dude pulled out a wallet and handed Devlin a ten.

โ€œSure,โ€ she said. โ€œIs this for both of you? You should give it a try, too. Thisโ€™ll get you both in on the next two games.โ€

She didnโ€™t wait for confirmation. She shoved the money in the box beside her control board of buzzer buttons and waved the guy and his kid toward stools on the far side of the now-veteran players already seated.

โ€œUh, sure,โ€ the guy said, putting a hand on the kidโ€™s back and guiding him to a seat.

Running through the rules again, Devlin envisioned those gimlets awaiting her. With Bombay Sapphire dancing before her, she counted down and then pushed the button to blast the bell and launch the game. The buzzer over the newcomer fatherโ€™s boatโ€™s track rang moments later. What kind of scummy guy just trounces a kid like that? Devlin rolled her eyes behind the obscuring lenses.

โ€œLooks like our new guy is the winner, ladies and gentlemen. Now, would you like a unicorn, a butterfly, or this little dude?โ€ Devlin again proffered the hard-to-describe creature, walking it over for the fellow to examine.

โ€œWhat is it?โ€ the guy asked.

Devlin shrugged. โ€œWhat do you get when you cross an elephant and a rhino?โ€

The guyโ€™s sunglasses gave away nothing. But something she couldnโ€™t articulate made her feel like he was studying her.

โ€œAn โ€™el-if-I-know,โ€ she said.

Still nothing . . . except that feeling of scrutiny.

โ€œDude, Iโ€™ve got no idea,โ€ she replied to her reflection in the lenses.

โ€œGrant, which one do you want?โ€ The guy turned away and handed the unnamed creature to the kid, and then gestured at the identifiable unicorns and butterflies hanging on the wall over Devlinโ€™s control station.

โ€œThose are for girls,โ€ Grant said, waving at the recognizable plushes on the wall.

โ€œSo is this one okay?โ€ The guy patted the thing in the kidโ€™s hand.

Grant wrinkled his nose. โ€œYeah, I guess so.โ€

โ€œAll right, folks. Youโ€™ve all got another game coming here. Competition is fierce. Whoโ€™s gonna take this last one?โ€ Devlin strode back to her place at the control board.

โ€œDeep inhale, everyone. Relax. All right, here we go. Three, two, one.โ€ She pushed the starting button.

Up shot the new guyโ€™s boat again. What a bastard. Poor Grant. This patriarchal showmanship would be worth about five or ten grand at the therapistโ€™s in twenty-five years.

Out in the channel, two jetskis purred past, headed toward the bay. The dayโ€™s heat had cracked and the sky hinted at evening. Behind her, the victory whistle sounded. She turned. The dude with the sunglasses sat patting Grantโ€™s shoulder, with Grantโ€™s boat at the top of its track. So the guy wasnโ€™t a complete fool.

โ€œA new winner here, ladies and gentlemen.โ€ She walked to Grantโ€™s stool. โ€œNow, little man, because youโ€™ve won two prizes today, you can trade that one youโ€™ve got and this one youโ€™re going to get for one bigger one. You can pick from these if you want.โ€

She pointed at a row with only-slightly-bigger caterpillars, ambiguous characters, and a dog in a purple vest.

โ€œThat one,โ€ Grant said, pointing at the dog.

โ€œThat one it is, good sir.โ€ Devlin retrieved the dog, taking back the first creature and returning it to the wall in the process.

As she retraced her steps to Grant, the dog in her hand, fuzzy pictures coalesced in a fog and mist of bygone memories.

Devlin handed the dog to Grant. โ€œThere you go.โ€

She looked at the guy again, focusing on him for longer than she should have, feeling him perhaps doing the same to her. Yes, she had it right: it was him. She pushed a flyaway strand of bleached hair back into place beneath her cap and turned away.

โ€œThanks for playing this afternoon, folks,โ€ she called. โ€œEnjoy your evening on the boardwalk.โ€

The parents gathered their kids, and Devlin walked back toward her control board. Waiting for Grant and him to head off down the row of games and rides, she fussed with the cashbox and then lifted her water bottle to her lips. She could feel him and the kid lingering, feel them failing to move along, failing to leave her to forget what once was and to focus on thoughts of gimlets at sunset on the deck of a rotten old trawler.

โ€œUm.โ€ His voice sounded low and halting behind her. A vacuum, all heat and silence, followed and then a masculine inhale . . . and then the awkward pause.

He cleared his throat.

โ€œSorry to interrupt, but are you from Chicago?โ€


 

Story Evaluation
Plot
4.5
Characters
4.5
Writing Style
4
Pacing
4
Cover
4
Ending
4.5
Overall: One StarOne StarOne StarOne Star

 

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Click here to view The Venturi Effect by Sage Webb Participants

About Sage Webb

Sage Webb practiced criminal defense for over a decade before turning to fiction. She is the author of two novels and the recipient of numerous literary awards in the U.S. and U.K., including second place in the Hackney Literary Awards. Her short stories have appeared in Texas anthologies and literary reviews. In 2020, Michiganโ€™s Mackinac State Historic Parks named her an artist in residence. She belongs to International Thriller Writers and PEN America, and lives with her husband, a shipโ€™s cat, and a boat dog on a sailboat in Galveston Bay.

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20 responses to “Review: The Venturi Effect by Sage Webb

  1. DJ Sakata

    I think being pompous and condescending is a prerequisite for attorneys, I’m sure there are courses for it in law school ๐Ÿ˜‰

  2. DJ Sakata

    I think being pompous and condescending is a prerequisite for attorneys, I’m sure there are courses for it in law school ๐Ÿ˜‰

  3. I enjoy a legal thriller now and then. I like that she’s sort of an underdog and gets a little romance during her comeback. Good to know that it starts slow.

  4. I enjoy a legal thriller now and then. I like that she’s sort of an underdog and gets a little romance during her comeback. Good to know that it starts slow.

  5. kate

    When the story winds up to be good, a slow start isnโ€™t always a bad thing. Iโ€™m glad you ultimately enjoyed this one.

  6. kate

    When the story winds up to be good, a slow start isnโ€™t always a bad thing. Iโ€™m glad you ultimately enjoyed this one.