Category: Location

Guest Blogger ~ Claudia Riess

~ patyjag ~ 6 Comments

 The Love Imperative  

 by Claudia Riess

Love.  What state of being—or deprivation of being—requires a more expansive lexicon?  What adjective hasn’t been used to describe its properties or intentions?  Transformative, destructive, blissful, shattering, blessed, accursed. Love is entangled, in one form or another, in the entire spectrum of human experience.

     Besides being the most comprehensive of subjects, isn’t love, at least in its quintessential form, also the most compelling? Admit it, how many times have you read—or watched, in their numerous iterations—the stories of Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, An Affair to Remember?  We know the endings, they’re etched in memory, but we’re drawn to reliving—or reviving—them, with the same imperative every time.  As if through repetition, we can make the endings, or the ultimate fulfillment of love, or indeed, life itself, never end.

     If my take on the subject of love is biased, maybe it’s because I’m an incurable romantic with no wish to be cured.  I find it necessary, emotionally and tactically, for the element of romance to be a strong factor in my narratives. However, my focus on love, as both a predisposition and a means to enhance the plot, is not limited to the convolutions of romance.  Deep friendship, family loyalty, devotion to a political or humanitarian cause are, among others, forces that drive the narrative forward.

     To illustrate, I’ve excerpted a couple of passages from the books in my Art History Mystery series.  The protagonists are Erika Shawn, an art magazine editor, and Harrison Wheatley, an art history professor.  Book one, Stolen Light, brings them together to solve an academic mystery.  The mystery turns deadly; their relationship, stormy.  The series takes these initiates to the world of art-crime-solving through a number of multiple-murder, continent-hopping cases.  At the same time, it follows their evolving relationship, from roller-coaster romance to passionate partnering to devoted parenting.  Having an intimate story arcing alongside one with a more far-reaching effect, adds texture to the narrative as a whole—like musical instruments, which in concert highlight not only their own unique qualities, but in counterpoint, each other’s.

     From Stolen Light…  In a London hotel, Erika’s protective armor against falling in love begins to crack.  This is the prologue to their romance, which changes not only the course of their relationship, but affects the mystery’s narrative:

She didn’t want to be alone though she never minded it, mostly enjoyed it, in fact.  Except that in this moment being alone was uneasy solitude, and vaguely threatening.  She wanted to snuggle into conversation, hear her voice mingle with another’s…Minutes later she was poised in front of Harrison’s door…

     From False Light…By its very nature, Harrison’s playful and caring interaction with a little boy cannot but reflect his empathetic character.  It will impact the way he approaches people and situations:

Erika wasn’t sure if Sammy had been heading straight for Harrison or if Harrison had stepped into his trajectory, but within seconds, he was scooping the boy off the floor, legs still pedaling…Sammy, taken by surprise, smiled.  He stuck his clenched hand in front of Harrison’s face.  Chicken pâté was oozing from between his fingers.  “Yech!” he said, teasing a reaction out of Harrison…Erika stopped dead in her tracks as Harrison was opening his mouth to allow Sammy to jam it with a glob of pâté on crushed toast point.  “Yummy,” Harrison crooned dreamily, sending Sammy into gales of laughter.

     From Knight Light… On his own in Paris, Harrison’s faithfulness is tested by a beautiful colleague.  For both Harrison and Erika, loyalty, real and perceived, will figure in the arc of their love story and their progress in the investigation at hand:

It was impossible to miss the twinkle in her eye toying with the bluntness of her invitation. He thought it best to go with the least circuitous response: “That’s kind of you, but I’m married.”  Mugging confusion, Raquel looked about, as if for the stalking wife.  “And?” 

He shrugged. “There’s nothing to add.” 

She smiled in disbelief. “How about life is short?”

“Exactly. There’s no time to lose, perfecting a relationship. Call me a pompous prude—”

“You’re a pompous prude.”

“—but that’s how it is.”

     From To Kingdom Come…  Erika and Harrison, are in London, for the first time away from their toddler, Lucas. They are in the throes of a complex murder mystery pivoting around the looting of African art during the colonial era. At this moment, they are attempting to escape a life-threatening situation, and the power of love is over-riding the primal force of self-preservation:

“Go!” John barked, grabbing Erika’s forearm as she reached out for Harrison with her free hand. “It’s okay, he’s right behind us!”

“Go!” Harrison echoed, wanting her to forget him, beat him to the gate. Clinging to him now would hamper her movement.

But she resisted John’s tugging and both their urgings—even Lucas, calling her from across the ocean, failed to change her mind—and there was nothing Harrison could do but grab onto her hand and slow her down.

From Dying for Monet… Harrison is temporarily confined to a wheelchair after suffering a traumatic injury in London.  Erika is helping him handle the use of a commode; putting the inconvenience into broader perspective:

“We’re dealing with bodily functions.  News flash.  Everybody’s got them.”  She’d adopted a tone somewhere between a dental hygienist and a nun.

“I appreciate your stoicism, but I find this humiliating,” he said.

“I love you,” she said, maintaining the firm demeanor.  “This is another level of knowing.  Think of it as a dry run for old age, when we will be helping each other manage such challenges as hip replacements and incontinence.  Think of it as a new facet of devotedness.”

     There’s a caveat to keep in mind when writing a mystery with a romantic component: in a bona fide mystery, the mystery should remain the driving force.  I have a tendency to get swept into an emotional digression, and it’s only later, when reading through the section where the interlude occurs, that I realize the main thread’s been lost and I’ve got some pruning to do; even a major excision.  For love, a small price to pay.

Dying for Monet, Book 5 in the art history mystery series

A gala evening auction at Laszlo’s, an upstart auction house in New York City, is in progress.  Without notice, a much sought-after Impressionist painting is withdrawn from the block.  Moments later, its broker is found dead at the foot of an imposing statue in Laszlo’s courtyard.

Amateur sleuths Erika and Harrison Wheatley are once again drawn into an investigation involving an art-related homicide, this time sharing an unnerving coincidence with violent crimes occurring abroad.

As Harrison searches for clues in the archives at the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford, Erika is on a stakeout in Brooklyn Heights gathering information on the owner of the hijacked still life.  After Harrison experiences a disastrous encounter in London, he returns home, where he and Erika, along with a few of their usual cohorts, find themselves ever more deeply at odds with the movers and shakers of the dark side of fine arts commerce.

For links to purchase books in the series, visit www.claudiariessbooks.com.

Claudia Riess has worked in the editorial departments of The New Yorker and Holt, Rinehart and Winston, and has edited several art history monographs.  Stolen Light, the first book in her art history mystery series, was chosen by Vassar’s Latin American history professor for distribution to the college’s people-to-people trips to Cuba.  To Kingdom Come, the fourth, will be added to the syllabus of a survey course on West and Central African Art at a prominent Midwestern university.

www.claudiariessbooks.com

Guest Blogger ~ T.L. Bequette

~ patyjag ~ 2 Comments

Venturing Out

I am the author of the five mysteries that comprise the Joe Turner Mystery series. Like Joe, I am a criminal defense attorney practicing in Oakland, and my thirty years in the courtroom have provided a trove of stories. Write what you know, I suppose.

Joe is a more interesting version of me—younger, better looking, drinks more, quicker on his feet, and more daring in the courtroom. Most of my stories find Joe Turner defending young black men in Oakland. They resonate, in part, because of their authenticity, as my real-world experiences make their way into the courtroom. Sometimes, the inspiration for my characters is even recognizable to my colleagues. This became a problem once when fellow attorneys began placing bets on the inspiration for a particularly incompetent judge.

However, in my latest book, Holler Whispers, I decided that it was time for Joe to get out of town. He ventured to a small town in Georgia to defend an autistic teenager accused of murdering the local high school football hero. I knew there would be research but mainly thought of the project as an enjoyable adventure. When writing about a particular jail or courtroom, I’d felt constrained by their reality. Now, I would be free to let my imagination create its own reality. While this did come to pass, the greater benefit came from researching two vital aspects of the story—autism and the Deep South—and from considering how inadequately the criminal justice system serves those in the neurodivergent community.

In many ways, writing Holler Whispers was a lesson in its own subject matter, a story of education, inclusivity, and acceptance. While someone close to me is autistic, to be fair to the neurodivergent community, I researched the autism spectrum and did my best to put myself in the shoes of one of the story’s main characters and his family members. Writing in Carl’s voice helped me to appreciate his profound daily challenges, and I strove to do so with respect and dignity.

Likewise, while my father grew up in the South and I’ve enjoyed my time there, I am not a Southerner. I enjoyed researching the area of my fictitious small town of Barton, Georgia, on the edge of the Oconee National Forest. With the help of my father’s memories of childhood adventures, I hope I accurately described not only the native plants of the region but also the hollers’ unique feel.

I hope I did justice to those who inhabit both places—the autism spectrum and the South.

Writing the story also brought into focus a problem I knew existed. As a criminal defense attorney, I have seen firsthand how poorly our criminal justice systems deal with people along the mental health continuum. Almost by definition, the rigidity of the law prevents it from considering the nuances necessary to ascribe culpability to those in the neurodivergent community accused of crime.

Writing Hollers Whispers was both cathartic and educational in this regard. If you read the book, I hope you enjoy some of these same lessons.

Holler Whispers

Oakland defense attorney Joe Turner ventures to a small town in the deep south to defend an autistic teenager accused of murdering the local high school football hero. Joe must overcome a biased jury pool, an ornery judge, and a seemingly airtight case. The roller-coaster trial is seen through the eyes of the jury—a diverse group that struggles with their own preconceptions about autism and nearly crumble under the weight of their decision. But is there a plant on the jury and whose side are they on?

Desperate to shield his vulnerable and endearing client from prison, Joe is assisted by his girlfriend, Eddy, and Chuck, his colorful investigator. Together, the three urbanites navigate a world of southern charm and hillbilly legend where secrets whisper through the hollers, just out of reach.  

Written by a trial attorney, Holler Whispers captures the raw emotion of the courtroom and depicts a criminal justice system fraught with human frailty. Enjoy unravelling this twisty whodunit that tugs at your heartstrings.

Purchase: https://www.amazon.com/Holler-Whispers-Turner-Mystery-Book-ebook/dp/B0G5L3D6VK

Todd Lewis Bequette is a criminal defense attorney turned writer from Lafayette, California. His latest Joe Turner Mystery, Good Lookin’, was just named a Kirkus Indie Award Finalist. Much of Bequette’s law practice involves defending young men from Oakland accused of murder, so his day job provides a trove of plotlines waiting to be written. A Georgetown Law Graduate, he serves on the faculty of the Stanford Law School Trial Advocacy Clinic. He enjoys playing with a tireless border Collie mix, Russet, and will remain a lifelong fan of the Oakland A’s.

https://www.instagram.com/tlbequette

Guest Blogger ~ M.E. Proctor

~ patyjag ~ 3 Comments

The Call of the Road

By M.E. Proctor

The Way You Say My Name, Book 3 of the Declan Shaw mystery series, will be released in September (publisher: Shotgun Honey).

In theme and mood, this book feels different to me. Love You Till Tuesday was a classical murder mystery: a singer is found dead in her apartment; there is no apparent motive; corporate and police corruption play a major role in the story. Book 2, Catch Me on a Blue Day, started with an apparent suicide and resurrected 30-year-old ghosts. The case Declan Shaw investigates has its roots in the past and the arc of the plot is a long one.

At first sight, the canvas of Book 3 seems smaller. For one, there is no murder (not in the beginning, there isn’t). Can it still be called a mystery? The situation puzzles the cop who brings Declan on board. “I almost wish somebody died,” he says. Because a body makes things clear, we know where we are, and what is expected of the wily investigator.

So what is expected of Declan in The Way You Say My Name? He’s hired to find a woman, Amanda, who doesn’t want to be found. She’s not missing, not exactly. She phoned home to tell her parents she was fine. But didn’t say where she was or how long she would be gone. Which doesn’t reassure anybody.

And so, Declan’s quest begins. It will take him from Texas to the Atlantic seaboard, and back. It won’t be a pleasure trip. He will be broken in body and spirit, unsure of what he achieved, how much he resolved, and wondering what his intervention may have made a lot worse.

Hitting the road is a recurrent film noir theme: criminal on the run, drifter showing up in a small town creating chaos, men and women fleeing from their past and hoping for a better life in a place where nobody knows them. There’s some of that in The Way You Say My Name, with a twist when the pursuer finds out that he has, in turn, become a prey.

Declan muses: “What is people’s fascination with end of the world locations? Maybe they think nobody will come that far to find them. Amanda is exactly the kind of person who would run to the end of the landmass and stop because she can go no further.”

Declan does stop when he reaches the ocean, and believes his job is done—Amanda has been found. Only to realize he would have been much better off if he’d kept running.

In many ways, this story is a road movie. Declan’s old pickup truck eats miles of freeway and back roads. There are stops in fast food joints and gas stations, nights of uneasy sleep in a cramped cabin, stiffness in the early morning, tar-laced coffee in paper cups. Encounters too, some helpful and some not so much. It’s the end of January, nobody travels for pleasure. And when Declan reaches North Carolina, the beaches are deserted and the bitter wind bites.

Years ago, I have driven the road Declan takes. I know the stops (except the one in the Jackson, Mississippi, FBI Field Office) and the final destination. It’s funny how experiences like that don’t seep into the writing right away. It takes time for the sediments to settle.

Another road trip to West Texas has given rise to two short stories already and is now the core of the work-in-progress that might become Declan Shaw Book 4 (cross fingers). I don’t know if my more recent trips—Texas to Maine, Texas to Michigan, Texas to Montana—will eventually find a way into a narrative. I hope they do; I’m keeping a journey journal, just in case.

It feels oddly appropriate to release The Way You Say My Name this year, that marks the 100th anniversary of Route 66. A hundred years since Americans realized that there was an entire country open to explore. Hop in the car and go. Hit a few National Parks on the way. I still find it seductive to open my eyes to new horizons every morning. I was born in Europe and we don’t have the same appetite for roaming over there. Yes, people get on the road at vacation time (clogged freeways prove it) but the trip is more utilitarian: the beach awaits! There’s an element of discovery in the American approach to car travel … a vague remnant of the explorer’s spirit.

I wish I could share the cover of the new book with you … Patience, it’s coming!

—-

The Way You Say My Name

A Declan Shaw Mystery

“A spiraling game of cat versus mouse.”
—Craig Terlson, author of the Luke Fischer series

On New Year’s day, P.I. Declan Shaw is hired to investigate a disappearance. Amanda Spencer, a young mother of two, slipped away from a Christmas concert without leaving a clue. What made her run and who is she running from?

While digging up shreds of info from Amanda’s parents and friends, Declan meets Sam Chandler. She’s the kind of woman who stops him in his tracks. Sexy, smart, and complicated. And skilled at keeping secrets. So skilled Declan questions his abilities as a detective. What began as an intriguing missing person case soon shifts into a cross-country pursuit with Sam’s life in the balance.

For once, Declan isn’t the searcher, he’s the one who cannot afford to be found.

In The Way You Say My Name, narratives intertwine as a double spiral winds tighter and tighter. Amanda’s story is one of them. Protecting Sam is the other.

And the closer Declan comes to finding Amanda, the more he risks losing Sam.

Buy Links:

The Way You say My Name will be available on September 22, in eBook and paperback.

You can find Books 1 and 2 in the series on the Shotgun Honey site, here.

M.E. Proctor was born in Brussels and lives in Texas. She’s the author of the Declan Shaw detective mysteries: Love You Till Tuesday, Catch Me on a Blue Day, and the upcoming The Way You Say My Name. She’s the author of two short story collections, Family and Other Ailments and A Book to Live By, and the co-author of the retro-noirs, Bop City Swing and Kansas City Breakdown. Her fiction has appeared in various magazines and anthologies. She’s a Shamus and Derringer awards short story nominee. Catch Me on a Blue Day was recently nominated for a Shamus Award in the Best Original Paperback category.

Social Links

Author Website: www.shawmystery.com

On Substack: https://meproctor.substack.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/martine.proctor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MEProctor3

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Too Much Imagination?

~ patyjag ~ 4 Comments

Writing has always been therapy for me. A way to put my vivid imagination to good use instead of making me fearful and worried.

Early in my married years, when my hubby was a truck driver, my imagination would play scenarios in my head about things that happened to him while he was driving. Or if my parents were coming to visit and they were late, my mind would jump to all the tragic things that could have happened.

Once I started writing, sitting down nearly every day and putting my imagination to work writing stories, I rarely envision harm coming to people I know anymore.

What does happen is that my mind is constantly finding ways to bump off people in my mystery books. Ways that are unusual or that are everyday things that can become deadly. I haven’t asked other murder mystery writers if they do the same thing. I need to do that the next time I’m at a conference.

My latest was an innocent trip to the local theater group to watch the play “Oklahoma!” I had been toying with going, and then a friend said the Elgin Opera House put on the best plays, that most of the actors were actually people wanting to get into the field, and used the Opera House as a way to pad their résumés.

So I called my daughter, who lives halfway between the Opera House and me, to ask if she wanted to go with me. She said yes and I purchased the tickets online.

I have driven by the Opera House a hundred or more times, but I’ve never been inside the historical building built in 1912. We parked and entered the building, purchasing water and popcorn before finding our seats in the balcony section. I was impressed by the tin ceiling, the sloped seating, and the excellent sound. Very historical looking. The chairs were a bit hard, even though they were padded. I’m pretty sure it was the old wood shaving stuffing that had been packed down over decades of use!

We were a little bit early and entered the balcony from the top, found our seats, and took in the surroundings. After visiting and talking about the stage and my daughter having been in the building before, when her daughter was in a play, we decided to use the restroom before the play started. I stayed seated as my daughter went to use the facilities. The balcony didn’t have any lights on. The light came from down below on the stage. My daughter doesn’t like heights,. She came back from the restroom and said she didn’t like walking along the edge of the balcony to go to the door leading down to the restrooms.

I laughed at her and said, at least it wasn’t as high as the Church tower we’d climbed up to in Holland. Then I went down to walk along the balcony railing. It came to my knees, and the walking area between the railing and the front row seats was maybe 24 inches. I stopped to look down at the seating below and felt a little dizzy from the darkness above, the light below, and the sense that I was tipping toward the railing.

I continued on and then as I came back, the idea hit me that having a character be at the opera house for a play and seeing a person fall from the balcony would make a good start to a murder mystery. And as I sat in the balcony watching the play, more and more scenes flashed through my mind.

At the end of the play, when the spectators in the balcony had left, I sat in the front row and envisioned how someone could orchestrate an accidental fall.

So stay tuned for book three in the Cuddle Farm Mysteries. The death at the beginning of the book may or may not have been an accident! 😉

I’m having a 20th-anniversary bash to mark 20 years of being a published author. Follow my Facebook page or sign up for my newsletter to be part of the celebration and win prizes the whole month of May. I’m giving away a prize every day on my Facebook Page and giving my newsletter subscribers a Bingo game to play for a chance to win prizes.

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Guest Blogger ~ Seren Star Goode

~ patyjag ~ 3 Comments

Why I Write Cozy Mysteries — A Beach Walk Answer

On foggy mornings along the California coast, the world feels suspended.

The horizon disappears. The ocean and sky blur into one soft gray. Even the familiar curve of the shoreline looks different, as if something has shifted overnight.

Those are my favorite mornings to walk the beach.

After a strong swell, the tide leaves behind driftwood, kelp, and the occasional glint of something unexpected. I look for sea glass. At first, it’s easy to miss — a cloudy fragment half-buried in sand. But once you learn to spot that soft glow, you can’t unsee it.

Mystery writing feels like that.

I write cozy mysteries because I’m drawn to what hides beneath ordinary life. A marina on a bright afternoon. A small-town festival. Neighbors chatting on a front porch. On the surface, everything looks steady. But if you stand still long enough — you’ll notice tension, history, secrets.

Mystery readers understand that instinct. We read to uncover. To test our suspicions. To follow currents that weave through waves.

For me, the cozy branch of the genre offers something I love: community. In a small coastal town like my fictional Ocean Wood, relationships overlap. Loyalties complicate things. A crime doesn’t just affect one person; it ripples outward. That emotional web gives a mystery weight without turning it bleak.

My protagonist, Amanda Warren, arrives in town trying to rebuild her life. She carries loss. She’s not looking for trouble, but it keeps finding her. Each case she investigates is about justice, yes — but it’s also about steadiness. About putting the pieces back together.

And then there’s Grok.

Grok is a very large, very opinionated Maine Coon cat who may — or may not — have abilities that defy easy explanation. Some readers meet him expecting whimsy and stay for the sharp observations. Cats notice everything. They watch quietly. They sense shifts before humans do. Grok often catches emotional truths before Amanda does.

Writing him is a way of honoring intuition — that small internal nudge that says, something isn’t right here.

Whether you prefer hardboiled detectives or classic puzzles, that feeling is universal in mystery fiction. The tightening awareness. The moment when a clue lands differently. The fog beginning to thin.

On the beach, when I find a piece of sea glass, I always pause. It began as something whole — a bottle, perhaps — broken and tossed aside. The ocean didn’t erase its past. It reshaped it. Edges softened. Surfaces turned luminous.

That’s what draws me to this genre. Mystery is about disruption, but it’s also about restoration. Order doesn’t return untouched; it returns altered, wiser. In my most recent release, Monterey Bay Malice, chaos erupts at a seaside festival, and the crime cuts through friendships and reputations. Yet by the end, what matters most is not just who did it, but how the community stands afterward.

I don’t write cozies because I want to avoid darkness. I write them because I’m interested in what survives it.

Readers don’t turn to mysteries because they love crime. They turn to them because they love discovery. They love that moment when the scattered details align. They love the sense that someone — whether a detective, an amateur sleuth, or a watchful cat — was paying attention.

Fog eventually lifts. The tide recedes. That’s how finishing a mystery feels to me. Something once scattered has taken shape. The surface is clear again.

That’s why I write the genre I do.

Because beneath even the calmest shoreline, there are stories waiting to be uncovered.

And sometimes, if you’re lucky, they shine.

Monterey Bay Malice, the latest installment in the Amanda Warren Cozy Animal Mystery Series, strikes a deadly note when a music festival organizer is electrocuted onstage. As sabotage ripples through the seaside town of Ocean Wood, Amanda and Grok—her 35-pound psychic Maine Coon cat—must uncover the truth before celebration turns to catastrophe

Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0FVWFN352

Free story in the series: Kerfuffle at the Border https://dl.bookfunnel.com/bjbbxrovgs

Seren Star Goode writes coastal cozy mysteries set along California’s Monterey Bay. Her Amanda Warren series follows a reluctant sleuth, a close-knit community, and a very large Maine Coon cat named Grok who may be the smartest one in town. When she’s not plotting fictional murders, Seren can often be found walking the beach in search of sea glass, where many of her story ideas begin.

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