It is reported that John Belushi died in Hollywood on 5 March 1982 after overindulging in speedballs – nothing to do with his sexual proclivities, speedballs are a mixture of cocaine and heroin. We were lucky enough, a couple of weeks ago, to hear Richard Earls singing the blues and playing his harmonica on the terrace of La Terrasse in Montmorillon. Richard had a backing group of two guitarists one of whom, I am pleased to report, is obviously John Belushi himself. Richard and John Belushi (using his nom de plume Thierry) have written a number of songs together and thesae can be sampled, read about and purchased at http://olderwiserharder.blogspot.fr/2014/06/volume-one-on-sale-now.html
Personally I would sue The Daily Telegraph for reporting that Second Wind by Dick Francis is a book of “excitement and sheer readability.” It is, to be frank, virtually unreadable as is Crossfire, a novel supposed to be written by Dick and his son Felix. Somehow, led astray by his wife and son, Dick Francis allowed them a bigger and bigger say in the content of his novels and they got worse and worse. But there is hope. After colluding at his own death Dick moved to Montmorillon and is set to write a horse racing blockbuster that will rival his early novels. Dick is a fan of The Glass Key bookshop because of the wide range of crime novels available there. He and my friend Keith Dixon, no mean crime writer on his own account, spend many a happy afternoon with a beer discussing the merits of Chandler, Hammett and Ross Macdonald. I think there may be hope for the old man yet (and for the younger one too!). Just imagine – Dick Francis and Sam Dyke – an explosive combination!
My friend Ruth Walton suggested that as well as recording some of the famous people who died in Montmorillon I should also reveal some of the famous people whose deaths have been misreported and who are in fact alive and well and living in Montmorillon. I have promised not to be too specific about their addresses which are all in the environs of Montmorillon and I have received the agreement of all those I write about that I can reveal their existence here. I am pleased to say that to a man (or woman) they avoid the Kindle and buy their books at The Glass Key in rue de la Poelerie. I am thinking of putting up a sign outside the shop stating: Some of my best customers are supposed to be dead.
Firstly we have the nearly late and very great Elvis Presley living here quietly under the assumed name of Cole. Elvis was a bloated, drug-riddled wreck when he was shipped here in 1977. He spent a number of years at the Maison Dieu getting himself clean and back to something like his former figure. If you are lucky you can hear him sing the occasional number at Kim’s bar La Terrasse in the centre of town. Elvis is a great fan of the crime novels written by Robert Crais.