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In the 666 West End Avenue Novel:
Will Grissom is a coroner for Metro New York Medical Examiners Office.

"When two objects come into contact, there is a material exchange, from each to the other."
- Edmund Locard, Father of Forensic Medicine, 1910

My name is Will Grissom, I work for the New York Medical Examiner's Office. I haven't been on the job all that long. I guess you could say I am a transplant from California, trying to escape a crazy artist ex-wife who is angry and has turned more con artist than anything else among those that are left of our mutual friends.

A friend of mine told me about the job with the city Coroner's office and so I thought I would return to the city of my youth. My father was a policeman, and was a part of one of the units of NYPD's mounted cops. My mom is a full blooded Mohawk from the Akhwasasne Indian Reservation here in New York, and daughter a clan mother of the wolf clan in the Haudenosaunee (Six Nations) Iroquois. They met, moved to the city and they had me and then later, my sister, Jami.

When I was 13 years old, my dad got in the middle of a shoot out between two rival gang factions and had his horse shot out from under him. The poor man didn't have a chance. Anyway, the whole thing stunk of corruption, and my mother in an effort to save my sister and I from the city that she had come to hate now, and rather than move us both back onto the Rez, she moved us out West. My mom eventually met and remarried. He was a retired naval officer who was very good to us and we lived on San Diego's Coronado Island. My mother had gardens that everyone on the island was envious of, and her herbal and gardening knowledge were legendary.

Later I went to UCLA medical school. A few years after graduation, I got married, and I quickly got burned out. I took a job with the LA County coroner's office as an assistant and I felt myself come alive, but I watched my marriage crumble. I was never home because of my work. There are never any shortage of dead bodies. You sift through the clues, the wreckage, the detritis, and you piece it together. It's a little like a puzzle, I suppose, and I love a good mystery. My wife, Elaine, became more and more embittered, accused me of numerous affairs even while having a few of her own. When it ended at last, I can only say I was rather grateful that we never had any kids and that she didn't want allimony. She just wanted out. How many doctors can say they got out of a marriage so easily without any foul play involved? Sometimes I blame myself why she became bitter, and sometimes I realize, she was probably that way when I met her.

So now I am back in NYC, and living at 666. Underneath all of the degradation of this Grande Dame of a building, there is a dark and haunting beauty. And in my line of work, that is almost comforting.

This is my writing partner and friend. Click her image to pay her a visit.

Another grand Grimm Graphic!

666 West End Ave


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World Under Siege
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