Author Biography

Caroline Lawrence is an English/American author who was born in London and grew up in Bakersfield, California. Caroline currently lives in London, England.

Review

Praise for P.K. Pinkerton and the Petrified Man

*"As in the last Wild West adventure, our half-Lakota hero records his suspenseful story on ledger sheets and struggles with his "Thorn"—his inability to show or read emotion that today might be called high-functioning autism. P.K.'s straight-shooting personality, integrity and good heart make readers want to follow him to the ends of the Earth . . . A warm, wise, wild and woolly second offering."--Kirkus Reviews (starred review)

*This entertaining, absorbing sequel will hook readers from the get-go, and Lawrence sets up intriguing ambiguities and mysteries for P.K.'s sure-to-be-anticipated next adventure. An appended glossary includes real-life people, places, and events referenced throughout."--Booklist (starred review)


"Infused with humor and fast-paced action, this slightly gritty mystery has a satisfying resolution, making it an enjoyable historical romp."--School Library Journal

"The story unfolds quickly with numerous twists and turns propelled by cliffhangers at the end of each chapter. In addition, the narrative often summarizes events, which, because of many complications and characters, is useful rather than tedious. Prior knowledge from the first book is helpful, but not critical. P.K. has several personal challenges, particularly those stemming from an Asperger's-like syndrome that renders him unable to read faces or recognize tone. But what isn't hampered is his most important skill: like his friend Sam Clemens, P.K. knows how to spin a great yarn."--The Horn Book

Review Quote

Praise for P.K. Pinkerton and the Petrified Man *"As in the last Wild West adventure, our half-Lakota hero records his suspenseful story on ledger sheets and struggles with his "Thorn"-his inability to show or read emotion that today might be called high-functioning autism. P.K.'s straight-shooting personality, integrity and good heart make readers want to follow him to the ends of the Earth . . . A warm, wise, wild and woolly second offering."-- Kirkus Reviews (starred review) *This entertaining, absorbing sequel will hook readers from the get-go, and Lawrence sets up intriguing ambiguities and mysteries for P.K.'s sure-to-be-anticipated next adventure. An appended glossary includes real-life people, places, and events referenced throughout."-- Booklist (starred review) "Infused with humor and fast-paced action, this slightly gritty mystery has a satisfying resolution, making it an enjoyable historical romp."-- School Library Journal "The story unfolds quickly with numerous twists and turns propelled by cliffhangers at the end of each chapter. In addition, the narrative often summarizes events, which, because of many complications and characters, is useful rather than tedious. Prior knowledge from the first book is helpful, but not critical. P.K. has several personal challenges, particularly those stemming from an Asperger's-like syndrome that renders him unable to read faces or recognize tone. But what isn't hampered is his most important skill: like his friend Sam Clemens, P.K. knows how to spin a great yarn."-- The Horn

Excerpt from Book

HOW TO PROVIDE A CONVINCING ALIBI My name is P.K. Pinkerton & I am a Private Eye operating out of Virginia City, Nevada Territory. At the moment I am in Jail on the charge of Murder. I am writing this Journal because my lawyer told me to set down my side of the story. He told me to write it as if I was talking to a jury of "12 good men and true" or a kindly, sympathetic Judge with "white hair and twinkling eyes." He said I should start by putting my name, age & qualifications. I have already stated my name: P.K. Pinkerton. I am 12 years old. I can read & write & I can speak American and Lakota. I can also speak a little Spanish & Chinese & a few words of French. I am really good at tracking & hunting. My eyes are as sharp as a hawk''s & my ears are as keen as a rabbit''s & my sense of smell is almost as good as a bear''s. For the sake of honesty, I must confess that I have a Thorn. My Thorn is that people confound me. I am not good at reading people''s faces & sometimes have trouble knowing if they are telling me the truth or lying. As well as my Thorn, I have some Foibles & Eccentricities. It is my Foibles & Eccentricities--and my Thorn--that have landed me here in jail today, beneath the shadow of the hangman''s noose. OTHER BOOKS YOU MAY ENJOY The Apothecary Maile Meloy The Apprentices Maile Meloy Charlie Collier, Snoop for Hire: John Madormo The Homemade Stuffing Caper Deadweather and Sunrise: Geoff Rodkey The Chronicles of Egg, Book 1 New Lands: Geoff Rodkey The Chronicles of Egg, Book 2 The Secret of Platform 13 Eva Ibbotson A Tangle of Knots Lisa Graff Theodore Boone: The Abduction John Grisham Theodore Boone: The Accused John Grisham Theodore Boone: Kid Lawyer John Grisham Three Times Lucky Sheila Turnage We Are Not Eaten by Yaks: C. Alexander London An Accidental Adventure We Dine with Cannibals: C. Alexander London An Accidental Adventure To Nevada historian and B Street B & B proprietress Carolyn Eichin, who introduced me to the journals of Alf Doten, a vein I can mine for years. Table of Contents Ledger Sheet 1 MY NAME IS P.K. PINKERTON & I am a Private Eye operating out of Virginia City, Nevada Territory. At the moment I am in Jail on the charge of Murder. I am writing this Journal because my lawyer told me to set down my side of the story. He told me to write it as if I was talking to a jury of "12 good men and true" or a kindly, sympathetic Judge with "white hair and twinkling eyes." He said I should start by putting my name, age & qualifications. I have already stated my name: P.K. Pinkerton. I am 12 years old. I can read & write & I can speak American and Lakota. I can also speak a little Spanish & Chinese & a few words of French. I am real good at tracking & hunting. My eyes are as sharp as a hawk''s & my ears are as keen as a rabbit''s & my sense of smell is almost as good as a bear''s. For the sake of honesty, I must confess that I have a Thorn. My Thorn is that people confound me. I am not good at reading people''s faces & sometimes have trouble knowing if they are telling the truth or lying. As well as my Thorn, I have some Foibles & Eccentricities. One of my Foibles is that I get the Mulligrubs. One of my Eccentricities is I like Collecting things. It is my Foibles & Eccentricities--and my Thorn--that have landed me here in jail today, beneath the shadow of the hangman''s noose. Ledger Sheet 2 HERE IS WHAT HAPPENED. After vanquishing three Deadly Desperados last Monday, I used $300 of the Reward Money to buy premises for my new business. Mr. Sol Bloomfield was in the process of amalgamating his two small Tobacco Stores into one big Emporium down on C Street. I bought the smallest of his stores, the one on South B Street. Although it is long & narrow it suits me fine because it is located next to a Photographic Studio (where I can get disguises) and the Colombo Restaurant (where I take my meals). Mr. Bloomfield removed the last of his cigars & snuff & pipe tobacco from that store on Tuesday evening at 5:00 p.m. I moved in on Tuesday evening at 6:00 p.m. I opened my door for business at 9:00 a.m. on Wed October 1. I had put up a shingle outside my front door with the words: P.K. PINKERTON, PRIVATE EYE. WE HARDLY EVER SLEEP. And I had a big sign in the window of the door that told people I was OPEN. I had been greatly supported by the townsfolk after vanquishing a deadly desperado a few days before, and I was confident that I would soon get many clients. My foster pa, Emmet, always used to tell me to "strike while the iron is hot." But all that morning not a single person came in through my door. Maybe it was because the Washoe Zephyr had been blowing hard since the night before. I had been finishing the account of my first Case and did not notice, but now that I had nothing to do but sit and wait for clients, the powerful wind seemed to taunt me. They call it a "zephyr" but it was howling & moaning & spitting gravel at my shop front. My left arm began to throb where I had been shot two days before by a .22 caliber ball. I began to feel very low. By and by I felt so low that I was in danger of getting the Mulligrubs. The "Mulligrubs" is what my foster ma, Evangeline, called a bad kind of trance that creeps up on me when I feel low. I can stay in those Bad Trances for hours. I rock & moan & cannot easily be roused. When I come out of those trances, my brain feels thick & wooly, as if my head was stuffed full of cotton balls. Getting the Mulligrubs is another one of my Foibles. Ma Evangeline--God rest her soul--taught me a way of staving off the Mulligrubs. If I concentrate on ordering a Collection, it distracts me & I forget to be low. When I was living with Ma Evangeline and Pa Emmet down in Temperance, they let me keep a Bug Collection & a Button Collection. But I did not have either of those collections at my new residence in Virginia City, so I looked about me with an aim to starting a new one. Mr. Sol Bloomfield had left all the labels on the shelves along with the tobacco crumbs & flakes that gave the place its distinctive smell. I went back to my desk & found a pack of cigarrito papers & spread them out & copied down the names of all the different tobaccos. Then I went to the shelves and found bits of tobacco & started to put a sample of each tobacco on top of every label. Using an out-of-date brochure that Mr. Bloomfield left behind, I catalogued over 50 Cuban Cigars, 32 Domestic Cigars, 17 types of Leaf Tobacco, 12 different Plugs & Twists and 6 varieties of Snuff. So that made over 100 types of smoking, chewing and leaf tobacco. I decided to call it my Big Tobacco Collection so that it would begin with B like my other two collections: Bugs & Buttons. Sometimes I looked up at the door that still admitted no Clients & I felt kind of queasy in my stomach. But as soon as I returned to my new task I felt better. In this way I staved off the Mulligrubs & fought the urge to be downcast. Sometimes I even forgot my throbbing arm & the howling wind & the memory of the terrible thing I had seen in my cabin down in Temperance. It was a little past 5 p.m. and the sun had just dipped behind Mount Davidson when a bearded miner flung open the door to my office. I was so absorbed in ordering flecks of snuff that I almost jumped out of my skin. Some of that Zephyr whirled in and threatened to stir up my Big Tobacco Collection, so I shielded it with my arms & asked the man to shut the door. He did so & stood there panting. As I said, I am not good at reading people. It is my Thorn. Ma Evangeline taught me five facial Expressions to look out for. No. 1--If someone''s mouth curves up & their eyes crinkle, that is a Genuine Smile. No. 2--If their mouth stretches sideways & their eyes are not crinkled, that is a Fake Smile. No. 3--If a person turns down their mouth & crinkles up their nose, they are disgusted. No. 4--If their eyes open real wide, they are probably surprised or scared. No. 5--If they make their eyes narrow, they are either mad at you or thinking or suspicious. The eyes of the miner who had just burst into my office were open real wide. It was definitely Expression No. 4. He was scared. I thought, "At last. Someone has brought me a mystery to solve." Ledger Sheet 3 ARE YOU THE DETECTIVE?" cried the bearded miner, taking a step into my narrow office. I did not betray my excitement at receiving my first Client. "Yes," I said in a calm & businesslike tone. "I am P.K. Pinkerton, Private Eye. No problem too big, no case too small." "Come quick!" panted the miner. "It''s gone! It was thar a minute ago and now it''s gone! Come see!" I got up & grabbed my good slouch hat from a peg by the door & flipped my OPEN sign to CLOSED & followed him outside, closing the door as quickly as I could. Out on the blustery boardwalk, the shrieking Zephyr tried to snatch the hat from my head & the blue woolen coat from my back. Two other men were standing out there on the boardwalk. The wind was whipping up their slouch hats, beards & flannel shirts, and even the pants tucked into knee-high boots. I deduced from their flapping attire that they were miners, too. As I locked the door behind me, they were all crying, "It''s gone! It''s gone!" "W

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