It’s a Heat Wave

~ dzchurch ~ 4 Comments

It is 108 degrees outside my front door. That’s hot. But it is a dry heat, shorthand for the moment you walk into an air-conditioned room, you sweat like a stevedore. It also brings on combers of nostalgia for Michigan, feet dangling off a tethered raft in Gull, Gun, or any lake, including Michigan, waves nibbling at my toes, reading summer books that widened my horizons.

July on a raft in a Michigan lake

Edna Ferber was from Kalamazoo, Michigan, once known as the celery capital of the world and a place dear to my heart. I whipped through Cimarron, adored Saratoga Trunk, and still love Giant, one of the ultimate summer books filled with indelible, strong, resilient, tough female characters. I often think of Vashti and wonder what the heck was going on in Luz’s mind. Edna Ferber told big stories about big people, personal growth, and bigotry. That’s a lot to deal with at sixteen years old wearing a bikini on a raft in a lake with boys waterskiing close enough to splash your pages and rock your raft. I also devoured Michener’s Hawaii and Leon Uris’s Exodus and Jessamyn West’s Friendly Persuasion while sashaying about in my favorite madras two-piece.

In between big beach books, I delighted in Dauphine du Maurier. My Cousin Rachel, Rebecca, and Jamaica Inn. Slathered with Coppertone, I adored the dashing Jem Merlyn. I re-read Jamaica Inn recently and wondered at my choice. I suspect it was that Jem was a bad boy, not good, not unredeemable, but a bit sexy and more than a tad sullen. I had the same crazy adoration for ‘Wild Whip’ Hoxworth (Hawaii), Ari Ben Canaan (Exodus), and Jess Birdwell (Friendly Persuasion). What teenage girl wouldn’t love him or them? Or Daphne du Maurier with her brooding houses and equally brooding men, slightly overwhelmed heroines, and crazy housekeepers. She introduced me to a tightly controlled world of threat, romance, and creepy moors.

This brings me to the best read while babysitting during a thunderstorm. The only book I ever threw at a ceiling was Wildfire at Midnight by Mary Stewart. I was babysitting, the kids were all in bed, their parents late, thunder roared, rain rasped against the windows. I kept watch in the living room, shades drawn, listening to the night rumble and whack. I turned the page; the heroine sees a shadow gyrating in front of a burning funeral pyre. A window shade snapped open. The book hit the ceiling at about ten miles an hour. The joy of it is that Mary Stewart’s booksare as fresh as ever with their strong female leads, engaging, slightly sexy male protagonists, and intriguing travelogue plots.

I still have the paperbacks of each of these books, some with water spots on them. My copy of Giant made an appearance on the cover of a magazine, red-checkered tablecloth, paper plates, sunglasses, and Giant open spine up. Most of the books have a price of $.75 or less printed on the cover. Giant, because it was giant, cost $1.25.

Those hot, humid, muggy Michigan summer days, replete with gigantic mosquitos and buzzing cicada, sit on my shoulder as I write. In particular, my book Booth Island captures the essence of being a teen vacationing on a lake when anything is possible, including love, death, and Tiger Tail ice cream.

For fun, try this summer book quiz. MATCH THE BOOK TITLE with the book’s first line and marvel at the few words used to set the scene. Answers will be in next month’s blog. To get you started, the first one is a gimme:

First Line of Book Title of Book and Author
Last night I dreamed I went to Manderley again.Saratoge Trunk – Edna Ferber
All the Venables sat at Sunday dinner.Madam, Will You Talk? – Mary Stewart
Nothing ever happens to me.My Cousin Rachel – Daphne du Maurier
They were interviewing Clint Maroon.Rebecca – Daphne du Maurier
The whole affair began very quietly.Jamaica Inn – Daphne du Maurier
It was a cold gray day in late November.My Brother Michael – Mary Stewart
They used to hang men at Four Turnings in the old days.Cimmaron – Edna Ferber
HAVE A WONDERFUL SUMMER!

The Wine Cellar by Karen Shughart

~ kshughart47 ~ 5 Comments

This month, to celebrate my birthday, friends treated me to lunch at a lovely restaurant/winery with charming views of Seneca Lake, in the heart of the Finger Lakes. The restaurant not only carries its own wines, but also a splendid selection from other wineries located here, along with those produced elsewhere in the United States and internationally.

Maybe it’s because of the burgeoning wine industry in the Finger Lakes – it’s the second largest producer of wines in the U.S. – that wine features prominently in our social life. Each night before dinner, my husband, Lyle, and I have a glass, every meal we share with friends at their homes or ours as well as at restaurants, includes wine. We sip, we taste, we compare, and we share. It’s part of the culture.

Right around the time that COVID quarantining started, Lyle decided to clean out a basement room directly beneath our kitchen that has thick stone walls and a stone floor.  We figured it may once have been a cistern, the house is about 130 years old. Remarkably, in both the heat of the summer and chill of winter, that space stays cool at about 56 degrees.

For as long as we’d owned our house, this was one room I had never, ever entered. It was gloomy and dark with cobwebs, discarded doors, rusted paint cans, a hodgepodge of debris and a broken wooden table. It took him hours, but eventually he got rid of all the junk, cleaned the floor and walls and cleared out the cobwebs. What an amazing transformation! The stone walls were charming; the floor was, too. It was wired for electricity, there was a burned-out bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. Then it struck me. While we enjoy wine and had taken wine appreciation classes at nearby New York Kitchen in Canandaigua, our wine storage options for collecting it had been limited. This was the perfect space to create a wine cellar.

Just outside the room we hung a round, wooden sign: “Wine Pairs Nicely with Good Friends.” We bought a light fixture to hang from the ceiling. For comfort, my husband installed some interlocking rubber tiles over the floor. We found an authentic wine barrel that we placed in one corner of the room; a huge Finger Lakes wine country poster sits in another. We purchased racks and started filling them, rows organized by varietal.

A colorful rug anchors the middle of the room, with a small, rectangular table covered with a Provencal – print cloth, a perfect spot for wine glasses and bottles to open for tastings.  Over the winter, we had an electric fireplace installed for those chilly wine-tasting nights.

Our journey began with an appreciation for wine and the abundance of vineyards so close to where we live. It has continued with the creation of our own wine cellar, a fun space for small groups of friends and family to gather, and a silver-lining project during the isolating time of COVID.

Internet Trolls and Tree Frogs in Bags

~ Pamela Beason ~ 4 Comments

I wish I could write about my next mystery because today I went hiking in the snowy north Cascades where I’m setting the story. But I’m tied up with a ghostwriting project about cyberbullies and internet trolls that is keeping my imagination all too imprisoned in the ugly present. And I’m struggling with the plot in my novel, because I want to set it in post-pandemic times, but the plague didn’t conveniently end in the spring season that I needed it to for my plot to work out. I may have to resort to true fiction to resolve that successfully. But I have to get internet trolls out of my head first. Reality can be such a pain to deal with sometimes.

So, this post is about something totally different: the happy surprises in my life that have involved animals. I have often said that I don’t expect life to always be kind, or easy, or fair, but I darn well expect it to be interesting. And so, I’m thrilled every time I get a surprise that makes my day more intriguing.

Most of my surprises involve animals, especially wildlife, so it should be no mystery why I include so much of the natural world in my writing. My cats are sometimes responsible for my surprises, like the baby opossum I discovered under the couch. Although neither of them ever admitted it, I’m pretty sure one of them kidnapped that poor baby. Of course I rescued it, using a beach towel and a cat carrier. Did you know that a baby opossum is a pretty fierce opponent? They growl and are more than ready to use those sharp teeth.

And then there was the mole that climbed into bed with my visiting sister. That was a surprise to her as well as me. Cats again, no doubt. Mine like to kidnap all sorts of interesting creatures. They rarely injure them. It took me days to find the poor little beastie crawling along my floorboards and take it back outside. It gratefully dug itself back into the earth in seconds. I discovered that moles have beautiful soft silky fur. And giant feet, or course, all the better to dig with.

The tree frog in a sandwich bag by the kitchen sink was probably one of the biggest shocks. Scared me to death. Had an intruder been in my house? Was this a warning of some kind? After I got over my hysteria, I remembered that I’d washed out a sandwich bag the night before and hung it over the faucet to dry. And I had found tree frogs in my house before. I’m not sure I can always blame the cats, because I’ve found frogs sneaking around window screens from time to time. So, tree frog + window over the sink + sandwich bag drying by the sink = tree frog squirming in sandwich bag.

These surprises don’t always happen in my home, though. One time, on a sailing trip through stormy seas, when I was thoroughly seasick and out on the bow tying down something or other in pouring rain, a dolphin emerged beside the boat, rolled over on its side, and we both stared at each other for a long moment, gifting me one magical experience in a truly miserable day.

As a kid, I was awed by a giant luna moth, praying mantises and walking sticks, horned toads, tortoises, bright green garden snakes. (I wasn’t so fond of the patterned brown serpents.)

I will get back to my creative writing soon. For now, after I hammer away at the keyboard for a few hours on my contract job, I keep venturing out into the natural world, trying to banish internet trolls from my brain to allow more space for happy surprises.

Reaching out by Paty Jager

~ patyjag ~ 6 Comments

Whenever I start a project with a topic I know only enough about to want to write about it, I reach out to others who have experience.

That’s what I did for my latest Gabriel Hawke book, Stolen Butterfly. For years, I’ve heard of the injustice towards the Native American people. The women and children who were murdered and missing. While the cause, MMIW, now also titled MMIP, because it isn’t just women but children and even some men who are murdered or missing, has been growing slowly, the last few years it has started rolling with fury.

While the Indigenous population is only 2% of the all the people in the U.S., they are the group with the largest percent of missing and murdered people. The reason is law enforcement up until lately hasn’t cared. It has taken the MMIW movement to bring this to light.

Because I had decided back when writing book 1, Murder of Ravens to have Gabriel Hawke tackle this injustice, I reached out to social workers in and around the Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla Reservation to find help in telling my current release, Stolen Butterfly, accurately. The social worker I contacted, put me in contact with a woman who has lost four family members and is an advocate of the MMIW/MMIP cause. When she told me the stories of the people she’d lost and photos she took to commemorate them, I was choked up. That’s when I knew this was the book I was born to write.

Not only was the woman, Kola Shippentower-Thompson, an advocate for MMIP, she also is the co-founder of Enough Iz Enough a non-profit that teaches women and children how to defend themselves and be aware of danger. She was the prefect fit for the research I needed. She also had worked in security at the Wildhorse Casino on the reservation and her husband works with the Tribal Police in the Fish and Wildlife division. She could answer all of my questions and give me the emotional side I needed as well.

One of the secondary characters in the book is my new main character in my upcoming Spotted Pony Casino Mysteries. Kola has graciously said she would answer any questions along the way as I write that series which will be set on the Umatilla Reservation.

By reaching out and asking for help to make sure my book captures the way the people come together when a person is missing and showing their emotions, as well as the treatment they receive from entities that should be helping, I hope my book will build a little more compassion toward the Indigenous People. This is a book that I hope will make more people aware of the fear that is faced every day by a people who have lived through diseases that nearly wiped them out, being banished to reservations, and then treated as if they weren’t human. They are strong and resilient and deserve to be heard when their people are being taken from them.

Here is the review Kola gave my book after reading it: “The story was captivating, I couldn’t put it down. So many memories were brought to surface, so many emotions, like this has been lived before, because it has, this is a glimpse into our reality in the Reservation. Thank you for seeing us & helping tell part of the story.” 

The proceeds from the sale of this book will go to the non-profit Enough Iz Enough. This is a community outreach organization that advocates for MMIW on the Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla Reservation.  

Stolen Butterfly

Gabriel Hawke Novel #7

Missing or Murdered

When the local authorities tell State Trooper Gabriel Hawke’s mother to wait 72 hours before reporting a missing Umatilla woman, she calls her son and rallies members of the community to search.

Hawke arrives at the Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla Reservation and learns the single mother of a boy his mom watches would never leave her son. Angered over how the local officials respond to his investigating, Hawke teams up with a security guard at the Indian casino and an FBI agent. Following the leads, they discover the woman was targeted by a human trafficking ring at the Spotted Pony Casino.

Hawke, Dela Alvaro, and FBI Special Agent Quinn Pierce join forces to bring the woman home and close down the trafficking operation before someone else goes missing.

Universal buy link: https://books2read.com/u/baZEPq

Return to the Murder House

~ janispattersonmysteries ~ 7 Comments

by Janis Patterson

I want to thank everyone for their lovely comments both personal and public on my last Ladies of Mystery blog The Murder House. It did surprise me, though, that so many of you said you would take care to stay away from me and would never eat at my house. (Not eating at my house might be a good idea, however, not because I’m particularly murderous, but because I’m a lousy cook!) I do assure you, though, that I am the kindest and most charming of people… as long as I get everything I want, that is!

Unfortunately the last blog only scraped the very top of the dangers awaiting the unwary in an ordinary house. For a creative mystery writer there are all kinds of murderous methods, though some have taken steps to put a stop to some of the dangers.

For example – antifreeze. Yes, the ordinary antifreeze you put in your car. It used to be that all varieties were toxic and, as an added help for the domestic murderer, it tasted sweet! Mixed in a tall, cooling drink it would be almost undetectable. However, there were too many ‘accidents’ over the years, so the manufacturers started replacing the deadly ingredient with one harmless to anything but ice. I’m not sure if all manufacturers complied (but probably – too much risk of lawsuits) but one could always check. Or, if your murderer is very fortunate, they can find a forgotten half-used jug of the old type in someone’s garage. Or perhaps in anticipation of future need, they could have put back a couple of gallons of the ‘good stuff.’

Unfortunately, most murderers are not so forward-looking. All too often murder is a spur-of-the-moment decision – perhaps spur-of-the-week might be a better term, as spur-of-the-moment crimes are usually of the handy blunt instrument or bladed weapon type.

In this case, knowledge is your murderer’s best bet. A walk through a regular medicine chest can be a cornucopia of termination mechanisms. Many people take many medications, and although they are individually benign when taken as directed, when combined or overdosed can be deadly. That you will have to do your own research on – just be sure when you write you don’t put the entire formula or instructions down. We’re entertainers, not teachers… nor should we be accessories!

Two of the medicine chest items come to mind. First is the common diuretic; powdered (obtained either by opening the gelatin capsule or crushing the tablets) it can be given to the victim hidden in food, which will – over time – reduce the potassium in the body to fatal levels. This does take time, however, and requires patience. Second is synthetic epinephrine, perhaps not so common a drug but not at all uncommon; given in large quantities it can and probably will induce a massive heart attack. For the thoughtful murderer, assuming he can get hold of this chemical, it is an almost perfect murder weapon as it metabolizes so quickly it is undetectable almost immediately. Just delay the discovery of the body and what is a murder is regarded as a natural heart attack with no proof to the contrary, except perhaps an injection site, and we’re all clever enough to be able to hide that, aren’t we?

If your victim takes vitamins overdosing or cross-blending of certain of these generally benign substances can be fatal; however, while some supplements can be lethal when combined with others, they are not as strong as regular medicines and can necessitate repeated dosing. Patience – and a lot of dosing – is required, however.

If you want to go out into the garden, even more methods await you. As the wonderful novelist Marilyn Meredith said in her comments about the first Murder House, castor beans grow wild over most of the country and are deadly poison. If one is chemically (and perhaps suicidally) inclined, one can make the deadly poison ricin out of castor beans, but that is an unnecessary step. Just the plain old beans themselves are enough. Chop and use as a garnish, or cook in with tonight’s dinner beans – just be sure that no one else eats any, unless you are intent on creating a massacre. Cover them with chocolate as a candy. A single bean ingested can kill a child, so these are sure-fire killers if used properly.

Another deadly plant is the beautiful oleander, which not only grows wild in the southern part of the country but is used as a decorative yard planting or even a potted plant. Every part of this dark-green, glossy leaved beauty is poisonous, even the large and fabulous flowers – though I believe you’d have to use a lot of the blooms to get the desired fatal result, and just how many flower-laced edibles can you expect a victim to consume? Better to take the leaves, cut them into small bits and candy them to use as decorations on sweets or even some savory dishes. This might require several applications, though. My favorite story of oleander death is how a clever murderer chose fairly long, straight sticks from the plant, skewered hot dogs on them and used them to roast over a campfire during a camping trip. Enough poison leached into the hot dogs to be quickly fatal.

If you remember your ancient history, Socrates was executed by drinking a poison made from hemlock. Hemlock and its equally deadly brother water hemlock grow wild in many parts of the country. It would take no skill at all to pick and make a deadly drink from it. (Not quite within the purview of the Murder House, but close enough to be available to the ordinary murderer.)

Don’t have a green thumb? Don’t worry – there is an entire arsenal under the kitchen sink of almost every house in America. Mix bleach and ammonia and you’ll have chloramine gas, which is both toxic and corrosive. Plus, since both are fairly anonymous looking liquids, they can be placed into other, more innocent containers to make it easier for the victim to mix. Just be sure to get rid of them afterwards so the mixing looks like a stupid accident. However – one has to mix a fairly large amount to be effective unless the mixing is done in a fairly confined space. A small bathroom or shower stall would be ideal…

Nor does the chemical connection have to end there. If you’re interested in more detailed information about how ordinary household chemicals can be to create murder and mayhem, may I suggest you seek out the books THE POOR MAN’S JAMES BOND and THE ANARCHIST’S COOKBOOK. Both are heavy on chemistry and somewhat hard to find, but excellent information.

If you’re willing to cause some destruction, I have heard that burning wool or silk gives off cyanide gas, though how much fabric or how confined a space is required I don’t know. If you’re interested in this, you must do some research.

A thin – like size Zero – knitting needle or a long, old-fashioned hat pin can make a delightful murder weapon. Slip the instrument into the heart, avoiding the rib cage and sternum of course, and leave there for a while. (How you accomplish this is up to you…) The puncture to the heart will not kill the victim immediately, but leave it there a couple of minutes and with each beat the heart will tear the puncture hole a little bit more until there is a large enough breech to make the heart bleed out. Or shove your improvised stiletto up through the base of the skull, hopefully piercing the brainstem and entering the brain; then wiggle it back and forth, causing the semi-gelatinous brain to ‘scramble.’ The only two drawbacks to this method are even a number Zero knitting needle and a hat pin leave an external trace, but it is possible that the hat pin to the brain can be overlooked. If your murderer is lucky – or carefully foresighted – the death occurs in a county with an incompetent or careless ME or, even better, an untrained Coroner.

How to keep your victim still during such a lengthy and invasive procedure, though, is a test of your creativity.

Now go walk through your house and look at everything as if you had never seen them before and visualize how each could be used as a murder weapon. It is astounding and not a little unnerving. Forget exotic poisons and complicated mechanisms. Some of the most efficient and generally untraceable killing tools are right at your fingers. Please – just remember that we are not writing textbooks or instruction manuals. Always leave something out, so the momentarily angry reader won’t be able to duplicate your method. If they’re really going to kill someone they can figure out how, but we don’t have to hand it to them on a plate. Again, I cannot emphasize enough that we are entertainers… we should not be accessories!