~ Nancy Lynn Jarvis ~ 2 Comments

Let’s have some fun today. Help me finish this story.

The holidays are fast approaching so I thought we should all take a deep breath and kick back with a cooperative mystery for us to solve before everything gets crazy-busy.

 The best story I ever heard took place in the ladies’ bathroom at Mission Ranch in Carmel, a gorgeous property on the Monterey Bay owned by Clint Earwood. The only thing that has kept me from turning it into a fun short story is that the ending remains a mystery.

There’s a small two-stall bathroom just outside the property restaurant which is as quaint and charming as the setting itself so I was happy to head for it when nature called. When I went inside, both stalls were occupied. The women in the stalls obviously knew one another and were engaged in a conversation. I had to wait for one of them to come out before I could attend to business.

I’m a writer which means I eavesdrop, but even if I weren’t, their conversation would have been enticing.

… “that’s when I realized the door had locked with me inside. I tried but I couldn’t open it. I pounded on the door and called for help, but then I looked at my watch and saw it was after five o’clock. I guessed the building was empty except for me in the bathroom. The worst part was that it was a Friday night and probably no one would find me until Monday morning.”

“Weren’t you scared?”

“Not really. I mean I was concerned, but I was in a bathroom so I had water and facilities. I even had half a sandwich in my purse that I saved from lunch and it didn’t have mayo on it so it would be safe to eat whenever I wanted.”

“That’s not much to eat for a weekend.”

“No, it isn’t, and I really didn’t want to spend the weekend locked in a bathroom.”

“Did you try using your phone to call for help?”

“You know how bad I am about keeping that thing charged. It was dead.”

“So, what did you do?”

At that moment I heard a flush. One of the stall doors opened and a tall woman came out and headed to the sink to wash her hands. She smiled at me and nodded her head ever so slightly to indicate I could now use her stall. I went inside and closed the door as their conversation continued.

“Well, I definitely didn’t panic. I noticed there was a small window on an outside wall. I could see it was outside because even though the glass was sort of frosted, I could still make out trees in the distance.”

“Uh huh.”

“I pushed it and the bottom pane slide up.”

“That was lucky.”

“It was. I yelled some more, but it seemed no one heard me. The window opening wasn’t very big and it was at about chest height…anyway, I’m petite and I figured I could just squeeze through it. The only problem was getting up high enough to do that.  I looked around and found a trash can. I upended it and pushed it under the window. Doing that made me up high enough that I could go out of the window, although I’d have to go head first which I didn’t like.”

“Head first?! Where would you land. You might hurt yourself.”

“I looked out. There was a high shrub, a camelia I think, not anything prickly, but a nice soft looking one so I thought I would make a soft landing. The only problem was I was wearing a lovely new outfit—a soft cream-colored cashmere sweater and matching wool pants—and knew I’d ruin my clothing squeezing out the window.”

“What did you do?”

I heard another flush, the second stall door squeak open, and the sink being used again.

“The only thing I could do. I tossed my purse out the window and took off my sweater and pants and tossed them out too, and then I climbed up on the trash can and…”

That’s when the women left the bathroom. What happened next remains a mystery to me. How would you finish the story? There’s a free copy of “What Lucy Heard” in print or for your e-reader for the person who comes up with the best ending. It seems like an appropriate title as a reward since the book is all about hearing something curious, too.

The Cookies of Life

~ Janet Dawson ~ 8 Comments

Years ago, someone gave me a small pillow with the following quote:

In the cookies of life, friends are the chocolate chips.

Lately, the cookies of life have been handing me some broken pieces. Now, more than ever, I am grateful and thankful for my friends. They are abundant and stalwart chocolate chips.

Friends come in all varieties and are acquired in many ways. There are old friends, people I’m close to that I’ve known for a long, long time. I often call them friends of longstanding. Right now I’m thinking of three very close and longstanding friends. One I’ve known since high school, a friendship lasting nearly 60 years. Another friendship is coming up on a 50-year anniversary, someone I met while we were both serving in the Navy. A third friend I met through our mutual interest in mystery fiction and we’ve known each other 45 years.

There are friends who are also relatives, cousins that I’m close to, who I can share things with. There are other friends I’ve known since junior high and high school, bonded by that shared experience a long time ago. Friends met while I was serving in the Navy, people I’ve kept up with all these years.

Friends from the mystery writing and fan community, sharing a love of books, particularly those that feature fictional dead bodies. The kinds of friends I can talk shop with, discussing our works in progress as well as the vicissitudes of life.

Friends I met in the workplace, from jobs I’ve had over the years. We’ve stayed in touch, even though we are no longer coworkers. I lost one such friend earlier this year. She lived in San Francisco and was my buddy for outings to museums, the theatre, the symphony. I’m still getting used to going to plays by myself instead of calling her up to see when she has availability on her calendar.

I have friends I’ve known for years because I’m part of a loosely-knit cat sitting group—we take care of each other’s cats when we’re out of town. The cat ladies, as I call them, are the ones who looked after my fur babies for weeks during my mother’s last illness and the aftermath—and left food in my refrigerator when I returned home following the funeral.

I also have friends in my tai chi group. They are great fans of my famous carrot cake when I bring it to potlucks. They have been sending me good chi during my recent illness. And new friends acquired in my Italian class at the local senior center who took the time to sign and send a get-well card.

I have friends where I live. I bought my condo 33 years ago and I am blessed with good neighbors. There’s a neighbor a few doors down who takes in my mail and waters my garden when I’m out of town. She drives me to the airport and train station, and I do the same for her. There’s another neighbor across the way who shows up with his toolbox to give me a hand when I need it. Another neighbor does cat care visits in a pinch. And recently several neighbors have bought groceries for me and driven me to medical appointments.

So here’s to you, my friends. And many thanks. You’ve added sweetness and flavor to my life.

Guest Blogger ~ Max Burger

~ patyjag ~ 1 Comment

I was intimately affected by the bombing in Dublin in 1974. As depicted in the excerpt from the book (see my website: http://maxburgerauthor.ag-sites.net/ I was a student assisting in the surgery of a victim. The description of the procedure was real. Our uncertainty of both the outcome and the identity of the victim was real as well. Never having experienced the chaos of a trauma case when minutes could mean life or death, and the unpredictability of the outcome, made me acutely aware of the tension in the room. As primarily an observer, my mind raced over the possibility of what might happen and the sad anonymity of a John Doe. The nature of the injury and the markings on the body only added to my questions. This man may have gotten his wounds in any number of ways; the speed that was needed to repair them did not allow for careful review and analysis with a plan for the outcome as it might in an elective surgery. The black rose tattoo added to the questions — a symbol of the Irish resistance to British rule. Whether this person was a member of the IRA or just a proud Republican, I never found out, but the question prompted a momentary pause in the surgery and, for me, the idea of a story of identity. The idea of a pathologist who puts together the pieces came naturally since a dead person could tell a story even if it had to be translated by the skillful eyes and hands of a pathologist. I had seen enough autopsies as a student to know the process and practiced medicine long enough to know the diseases that inhabited the bodies of the dead.

The politics of the time overlaid all the facets of Irish life but were brought into sharp focus with the bombing. I, as most students, was more involved in my social life and studying than following the news which was most violent in Northern Ireland and along the border, as distant as the war in Vietnam was a series of terrible stories that I left at home. We were relatively safe in Dublin until the reality of the violence hit the peaceful city. We all were changed with the bombings, as was my protagonist, Harold Stokes, and his assistant, Samantha Monaghan. Actions needed to be taken.

This is now a work of history and memory, but the circumstances felt very real. I wrote the novel to work through the feelings I couldn’t forget.

EVEN IN DEATH

After the Dublin car bombings in 1974, Harold Stokes, ME, and his new assistant, Samantha Monaghan, begin the last autopsy of the casualties. This unidentified victim is not an Irishman, but an Israeli, killed by a bullet, not a bomb. Before they can finish their task, the body is stolen. Stokes and Monaghan hunt for the victim, but Stokes is also looking for the killers who caused his wife and daughter’s bombing deaths two years before. In their hunt, he and his impetuous young assistant are enmeshed in a web of IRA and Palestinian arms trades with a terrorist known as the Jackal, the Mossad, more factional killings, and the manipulations of an Irish ex-minister using his power to take advantage of the turmoil.

Available On Amazon Google Play Barnes & Noble  Kobo Apple Books

Max Burger is a retired Family Physician, His novel Even In Death, a mystery/thriller of a 1970s Dublin pathologist searching for a stolen body, was published by Rogue Phoenix Press in December 2023. He has completed another novel, My Father’s Father, a Holocaust Family Saga. The first chapter was published in October 2023 in Embark, a literary magazine, and another excerpt, “Lost and Found,” was published in jewishfiction.com in September 2024. He has published personal interest stories in Medical Economics, JAMA, and AMA News.

http://maxburgerauthor.ag-sites.net/

Guest Blogger ~ Nancy Nau Sullivan

~ patyjag ~ 1 Comment

Blanche, Nan, and Traveling Mayhem: The Blanche Murninghan Mystery Series

By Nancy Nau Sullivan

Blanche “Bang” Murninghan is a Florida island girl with a wandering heart. One challenge after another invades her idyllic way of life on the beach, and she’s off to far lands. 

In the second misadventure of the mystery series, Trouble Down Mexico Way, Blanche heads to Mexico City and gets caught up in a murder-for-art scheme. It starts with a visit to the Palacio Nacional and discovery of a “fake” mummy in the exhibit. Though she’s no expert in mummies, the skin looks fried. And it’s wearing a pink plastic barrette in its hair. The burning question, right off the bat, is: Why would a mummy be wearing such a piece of hair-ware? 

Blanche is supposed to be writing travel articles for her hometown newspaper, but the mission is immediately derailed. Her curiosity is like a door that begs to be opened. Once she begins this search for the origin of the “fake” mummy, Mexico City suddenly becomes a maze of twists and turns. The police have questions for her. The mummy has spoken with clues that lead Blanche and the authorities on a chase to unravel an obvious murder and the motive behind it.  

I thought up this mystery during the year I lived in Mexico—totally out of the fabric of imagination. Shortly after I arrived, I visited the Palacio Nacional in Mexico City where were displayed hundreds of ancient Mayan artifacts newly discovered in Mexico and Central America. The animated clay figures played ball (with skulls), the women squatted and cooked, the men hunted, the children leaped around with their smiling dog. A thousand-year-old dog. The exhibit also featured violent, colorful, and respectful rituals of death.

The celebration of Day of the Dead soon followed. Nothing is more colorful than the celebration of death in Mexico. From October 31 to November 6, depending on where you happen to be, the town plazas, homes, and shops are swept up in swaths of color, impromptu dancing and music in native dress, whole families out until midnight celebrating their deceased relatives. Their photos are posted on altars (ofrendas) carpeted with bright yellow and orange marigolds and celosias, and piled next are bread and wine and beer and, of course, tequila and mescal, all arranged on embroidered linen, ropes of flowers and handmade baskets, favorites that marked the family tradition together. Family members sit at the altars in the plazas and talk about their ancestors. It is solemn and raucous and lovely all at once, enough to make a newcomer fall completely in love with the culture.

Trouble Down Mexico Way spins off wildly from the adventure of my first days in Mexico City. But, as in all my mysteries, I celebrate the places I’ve lived, enjoyed, worked as a teacher. I like to add a folk tale in each book, history,  and the details of food and smells and color. I’ve always kept journals to refer to in the writing, but I don’t trust my spotty, unreadable notes—once written while sitting on a horse. I research the settings for months before writing to round out the historical context in each story. It can’t all be about murder. And in Blanche’s case in Mexico, it’s also about love when she meets Emilio Del Sierra, a handsome young doctor with a lot of patience and a talent for the guitar.

Before Mexico, the first book in the series was inspired by Anna Maria Island, Florida, the place I spent years with family. Saving Tuna Street—a finalist at Foreword Reviews for best INDIE mystery—meets environmental disaster and chicanery head on. After Trouble Down Mexico Way, Blanche goes to Vietnam, Ireland, and Argentina in a succession of books where she survives hair-raising capers. She always returns to her cabin on the beach where she manages to keep her feet on the ground. Well, sand. When curiosity comes knocking, she’s ready—with a little help from her friends—for more mayhem and misadventure.

Trouble Down Mexico Way

Trouble Down Mexico Way is the second stand-alone mystery in the Blanche Murninghan Mysteries.

Blanche “Bang” Murninghan is a part-time journalist with a penchant for walking the beach — and walking into trouble. In Saving Tuna Street, first in the cozy mystery series, she fends off developers and drug dealers in an attempt to save her beloved Santa Maria Island. But Blanche has feet of sand and a love of travel. The adventure continues in Trouble Down Mexico Way with a “fake” mummy and murder; in Vietnam Mission Improbable: Vietnam, Blanche helps a friend find her mother in that beautiful country. For the fourth misadventure, A Deathly Irish Secret, Blanche inherits a castle and more than she bargained for—a murder charge. She pulls out of that fracas, too. Lastly, she travels to Argentina with handsome hunk Emilio Del Sierra to save his relatives from Nazis on the pampa. Wherever she goes, she always returns to her cabin, the white sand and sunsets, and to her wonderful quirky family on the little Florida Gulf island. 

Link to book on amazon

https://www.amazon.com/Trouble-Mexico-Blanche-Murninghan-Mystery/dp/1611533759

Link to book on Barnes & Noble

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/trouble-down-mexico-way-nancy-nau-sullivan-ms/1137370750

Link to Kobo

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/trouble-down-mexico-way

Kirkus Reviews says: “Blanche alone puts the bang in the book, and her debut should make readers sit up and notice. A welcome newcomer to the South Florida genre.”

A former newspaper journalist—and, presently, traveler–Nancy Nau Sullivan grew up in the Midwest but often stayed on Anna Maria Island, Florida. The setting inspired Saving Tuna Street, first in the Blanche Murninghan mystery series; the fifth installment, Hot Tango in Argentina, launched in April. Nancy’s memoir, The Last Cadillac, received two Eric Hoffer awards, and her novel, The Boys of Alpha Block, is based on her teaching at a boys’ prison. She’s taught in Argentina and Mexico and now writes and teaches part-time near the beautiful beaches of the Gulf of Mexico. Find Nancy at www.nancynausullivan.com.

Social media:

https://www.facebook.com/nancy.sullivan.9638/

https://www.bookbub.com/profile/nancy-nau-sullivan

https://www.instagram.com/nancynausullivan/

https://www.linkedin.com/in/nancy-nau-sullivan-712b2015a/

Day of the Dead photo from: www.freepik.com

MULTITASKING ONCE AGAIN

~ Kimila Kay ~ 6 Comments

Hello, Ladies ~

While I am sad about the loss of three family members over the last three months, I am also relieved that the past eighteen months are behind me. I’m finally back to weaving words together as I work on three novels at once.

I know it sounds daunting—and maybe even a little crazy—but being immersed in a story is my happy place.

The wonder I have for my creativity is endless. I mean, how is it possible to have a character in “Lost in Loreto” looking for a missing wife? A wife, he thought, had divorced him. And at the same time, I’m back in Stoneybrook following Wyatt and his deputies as the hunt for not one, but two killers in “Fatal Falls.” Then, just to keep things interesting, I’m sailing on a 1757 Schooner as it tries to outrun a Spanish Galleon with three youngsters who have been transported from the present back in time in my middle school fantasy novel, “Midnight Sail.”

I’ll admit that while I was dealing with what seemed like endless family issues, I felt that my creativity had abandoned me. It seemed every time I sat down to work on my novel at the time, “Chaos in Cabo,” that I couldn’t string together two sentences that read well. Still, I plodded along, working and reworking sentences, rearranging paragraphs, and adding more chapters.

I’m not going to lie, when my Beta readers reported back that they loved the book, I was thrilled. One even said she thought it was my best book yet. What?!? Now, armed with renewed confidence that my creativity works just fine even if I’m a little distracted, I’m excited again to have three projects to work on at once.

In “Lost in Loreto,” I’m back in Mexico. As luck would have it, I get to visit this city in March while on a Mexican cruise of the Sea of Cortés. I’m excited to stroll the same streets my characters walk. But mostly I like the idea of verifying some of the things I’ve learned about the city via Google searches. Even though I sometimes take creative license with locales, I try to stay as true to the places in my books as possible. Something else I’m excited about with this book is the character dynamics, which already offer huge potential for fun character arcs. Oh, and did I mention there might be a rattlesnake that doesn’t actually have a rattle at the end of its tail?

Of course, my favorite part of being back in Stoneybrook is that I get to write a story thread that honors my son, Derrick, the model for my autistic fictional deputy. I love all of the Stoneybrook characters, most of whom reflect the personalities of people in my life. But it’s also fun creating new characters, and in the case of “Fatal Falls,” the villain is taking an even darker turn than I had planned. One of the upsides of an evil villain is plotting how he will get his just desserts.  Another upside to writing about the town of Stoneybrook is that it’s similar to creating a fantasy or sci-fi world; I can bring my imagination to life in various ways.

Okay, so I’m guessing you’re all scratching your heads, asking how she can write a kids’ book when she’s so dark and twisty. I have had the idea for “Midnight Sail” since I still had kids at home. Then I was going to write the book for my grandkids, now fifteen and thirteen. But a good idea never truly leaves you, and one day I met a ten-year-old boy who brought my main character, Cyrus, to life. After our chance meeting, I couldn’t let go of his winning personality and curious mind. When I started working on the book, it seemed meant to be, because the other characters presented themselves with little effort. Once again, I found myself “sailing” Google, researching pirates and old vessels that once sailed the Oregon coast. As a native Oregonian, I was shocked at the many pirate stories I discovered. Turns out my buried treasure story idea from forty-plus years ago wasn’t such a stretch after all.

Obviously, I’m thrilled to be back in my writing groove. Whether it’s a brief note in the Halloween cards I send to my grandkids, great-nieces and great-nephews, or writing a blog I hope others will enjoy, all writing is good writing.

So, I must bid you adieu and get back to those three stories!!!

Happy Halloween, Ladies!