Judith Post's Blog, page 21
October 22, 2022
Introducing Sheriff Guthrie and a stray–Part 1
I wrote this story a long time ago, but it’s one of my daughter’s favorites, and she brought it up again, said she’d like to see it . Since it features an orange cat, and it’s October and witchy season, I thought I’d dig it up and share it. I hope you enjoy it.
Sheriff Guthrie & The Orange Tabby
(1)
Wilbur Guthrie leaned back in his office chair and put his feet on his desk’s open, bottom drawer. It had been a long night last night. New Year’s Eve, and you’d think it was the Fourth of July. Kids had set off fireworks and fired guns. Neighbors called to complain. Too much drinking, too much partying and being silly. He sighed. If that was the worst of his problems, he’d consider himself lucky.
There were few serious crimes in Emerald Hills. Once the tourists left in the winter months, the town got downright quiet. Two murders in ten years. But his territory had its share of domestic abuse, DUIs, and meth labs.
He rubbed his eyes. His deputy, Mike Krider, would be in soon. Then he could go home and put his weary bones to bed.
As if the thought had summoned him, Mike strode through the front door. He took one look at Guthrie and grinned. “Tough night?”
Guthrie kicked his drawer closed and pushed himself to his feet. “The usual.” He motioned toward a pile of reports. “Alex Brethren got in another brawl. Salem Schmidt is sleeping it off in the back cell.”
Mike shrugged. “Nothing spectacular, that’s good.” As Guthrie reached for his coat, Mike said, “The new owner finally moved into the hat shop on Green Street. The moving van came and went last night.”
Guthrie nodded. “Hadn’t heard, but glad someone’s going to run the store. Tourists notice empty shop windows.”
“Hearsay is that she doesn’t have any magic, like most of our shopkeepers.”
“That’s no matter. Emerald Hills has more magic than most.” Tourists couldn’t explain why goods from here satisfied them so much. Shopkeepers didn’t advertise their magic, but customers could feel the difference.
Mike settled behind his desk and Guthrie headed to his car. On the drive home, the streets of Emerald Hills were empty. People were staying put, cozying up in front of the TV screen, eating pork and cabbage to bring them luck for the new year. A smile tilted his lips. His mother always made ribs with sauerkraut for New Year’s Day. Insisted it was tradition, and if they cheated, who knew what would happen?
All of the restaurants in town were closed—his typical go-to for meals, but Midu had delivered a foil-covered casserole of sliced pork and Napa cabbage for him. Bless that girl, her produce stand was closed for the season, but she still felt responsible for feeding people. She and Kyle were building a new greenhouse during the months when tourists were few and far between.
Guthrie pulled in the lot behind his apartment. He lived on the second floor above Nature’s Bounty, Leigh and Mallory’s shop filled with flower arrangements and painted gourds. Those two were so relieved the holidays were over, they probably celebrated New Year’s by propping their feet up. They’d never had so much business, they told him, nearly depleted their entire inventory before the tourists finally satisfied their buying sprees.
Guthrie unlocked the door to the building’s back foyer. An inside staircase led to his apartment. Before he could start up, a voice stopped him. “Yoohoo!” He frowned. Who used a silly term like that? He turned and saw a middle-aged woman waving at him from three doors down.
He sighed. What now? But he plastered a smile on his face and went to see what she wanted. She stood there in a long, flannel robe, her feet in slippers, hugging herself. Her hair had once been red. Now, it was faded blond. Freckles peppered the bridge of her nose, and blue eyes sparkled at him. Generous lips smiled.
He tipped his head. “Howdy, ma’am, what can I do for you?”
She waved that away. “I’m Jeannie Ostermeyer. I just moved in. Whoever owned the hat shop before me must have had a cat. When I was carting stuff into my apartment, it dashed outside.” She pointed. “The poor thing must have been trapped in there for a while. It’s huddled under my car and near freezing to death.” She looked at his uniform. “You can rescue cats, can’t you?”
Guthrie sighed. “That’s not really part of my job description.” He looked at the orange tabby under her silver SUV. “That cat didn’t belong to Mildred. She owned a yippy, little dog. I’d guess that guy’s a stray. Looks like he’s seen some tough times.”
She nodded. The cat’s left ear was missing a notch. Its fur was matted. “It’s so cold outside, I hate to just leave it on its own.”
His mom had been a cat lover. “Have you tried tempting it with food?”
She motioned to a bowl of milk on the back stoop.
“Anything with more substance?”
“I have cans of tuna. I haven’t gone to a store yet. There’s not much in the refrigerator.”
He nodded. “I’d try the tuna.”
“Let’s see if it works.” She motioned for him to follow her up the stairs to her apartment. When she opened the door at the top of the stairs, he blinked in surprise. Boxes lined the walls, but an overstuffed, deep purple, velvet couch divided the seating area from the kitchen and dining space. Bold colors of modern art popped for attention against cream-colored walls. Zebra print rugs dotted the wooden floors.
She saw his reaction and smiled. “I like color. Can you tell?”
Even the kitchen had a fire-engine toaster, blender, and canisters. A canary-yellow tea kettle sat on the stainless-steel stove. “Looks like you have a good start on moving in.”
“I numbered the boxes I packed. Knew which ones to open first.” She went to a cupboard and dug for a can of tuna. “Bingo!” She opened it and held it out to him.
Guthrie took it and turned to go down the stairs. Jeannie followed him. They put the tuna on the stoop and called for the cat. It studied them with its yellow gaze, struggled to resist its hunger, and then came.
Jeannie smiled. “Food can tame the savage beast.”
Guthrie thought about Midu’s pork and cabbage waiting for him in his refrigerator. After a quick meal, it would be bed for him.
Jeannie held the door open, and the cat strolled in. She grinned. “I like cats. We’ll do fine together.”
“Good, glad I could help you.” Guthrie turned to leave.
“Happy New Year!” she called after him.
He smiled. “You, too.”
“I’m a Rat,” she said. “What are you?”
He blinked, unsure how to answer.
She laughed. “The Chinese horoscope. What year were you born?”
“August, 1953.” He’d played the astrology game before with one of the women at the church’s sewing circle. She’d wanted to know his sign. Virgos apparently pleased her. She baked a chocolate cake for him, told him he was the “salt of the earth.” He indulged the church women because they always invited him to their carry-ins.
Jeannie nodded. “You’re the horse. We’ll get along. This should be a good year for you.”
“Good to hear.” He climbed the steps to his apartment and grimaced at its sparse furnishings—a plaid couch of uncertain age, a recliner on its last legs, and an old maple table with four chairs, patched-up with duct tape. When was the last time he’d bought anything new for the place? No, wait. He’d invested in wooden TV trays last spring. Mighty useful, since he usually ate in front of his flat screen, watching sports. But the bright, happy feeling of Jeannie’s place taunted him.
He flipped on the TV, nuked Midu’s generous offering, and sprawled on the couch to watch whatever football game filled the screen. He was too tired to concentrate, so once the food satisfied his stomach, he headed to his bedroom.
A scratching sound woke him. He looked around his dark room and listened more closely. Yup, there it was again, followed by a high-pitched yowl. What the heck? He pulled on his robe and went to a window. Nothing to see. No one walking the streets. No cars driving past the quiet shops. But there was that sound again. More scratching.
He opened the door of his apartment and realized it was coming from the back door at the bottom of the steps. No one had ever bothered him at home before. Was this some strange prank? A break-in attempt? Or serious? He fetched his handgun and went to see what was going on. He swung the door open…and there was the orange tabby, paw raised in guilt.
“Doggone it!” Guthrie scrubbed a hand over his face. He could swear he felt every deep line, every new wrinkle he seemed to collect day by day. He scowled at the cat. “What do you want?”
Tail high, it wove past his feet and started up the stairs.
“Hey! Hold on a sec.” He didn’t have a kitty litter box or tuna stashed in his cupboards. But by the time he found the beast, the cat was curled on his bed, looking mighty comfortable.
Guthrie sighed. “Oh, hell, why not?” He tossed his robe and fell into bed beside it.
Knocking woke him in the morning. Morning? How long had he slept? Sunlight peeked around the pulled blinds in his bedroom. He glanced at his clock and couldn’t believe his eyes. Nine a.m. He never slept that late, never slept so much, usually tossed and turned—lately, insomnia was his best friend. And there’d been the holidays. He’d taken night shift so that Mike could be home with his family. And…the cat was curled against his stomach and lazily blinked at him.
“Gotta get up,” Guthrie told it. “Someone’s at the door.” Robe tied at his waist, he hurried down the steps, the cat close on his heels. He tossed the door wide, and Jeannie Ostermeyer glared at the orange tabby.
“You little traitor,” she said. “I invited you in and fed you, and you took off the minute I opened the door to grab a few things from my car.”
The cat wound in and out between Guthrie’s ankles.
Jeannie’s scowl turned to him. “And you let him stay with you? You knew I took him in.”
Guthrie was used to confrontation, but this was undeserved. “He scratched on my door in the middle of the night. I figured he was safer in than out.”
She bit her bottom lip. In the morning light, Guthrie could see the fine creases forming on her forehead, the laugh lines that fanned out from the corners of her eyes. She reached down and nabbed the cat. “Ungrateful, little beast, come on. Let’s go home.” She stopped to look at Guthrie. “I’m making a pot of chicken and dumplings for supper. I came to invite you, if you don’t work tonight.”
He shook his head. “I’m on duty. I give Mike the evenings off when his kids are home over Christmas break.”
“They don’t go back today?” she asked.
Guthrie smiled. “That’s when Mike and his wife celebrate the start of their new year.”
She gave a knowing grin. “A little romp in the sack when the kids are away. Good for them. Well, no big deal. I’ll try you again some other time.”
Guthrie trod back up his stairs and got ready for the day. Lots of time to spare. He sagged onto his old couch and turned on the TV, but there was nothing good to watch on a weekday. At least, nothing that appealed to him. He looked out the window and saw big, beautiful snowflakes falling. The weatherman had predicted a winter storm, and this must be the appetizer. He hoped everyone stayed home tonight, or he’d be dealing with stranded motorists and fender benders. The shops in town were still closed for the holidays, and winter meant shorter hours, usually Thursday, Friday, and Saturdays, so most tourists wouldn’t brave the weather until later in the week. A few, brave souls came to enjoy the national park on the south side of the county, though. He hoped they holed up in a bed and breakfast tonight.
His cupboards were almost empty. If bad weather was hunkering over them, he’d better stock up. After tonight’s shift, he didn’t have to work for the next two days. He needed to get some milk and cereal and a few frozen TV dinners. He pulled on his coat and headed for the car.
He ran into Jeannie at the store. Her cart held a roasting chicken and lots of staples—flour, sugar, salad fixings…things he rarely bought.
She raised an eyebrow at his cart. “I take it you don’t cook.”
Mallory’s husband, Neil, was passing by—his cart overflowing—and heard. He stopped and smiled. “Guthrie doesn’t need to. The women of Emerald Hills are happy to provide for him.”
Guthrie couldn’t remember the last time he’d blushed, but he could feel his cheeks burn, and he hurried to explain. “I attend a lot of events they put on, and most of them include luncheons or carry-ins.”
Her gaze settled on his going-soft middle. “I see.”
Guthrie grimaced. “Well, I’d better be going. I work night shift, remember?” As he left, he heard Neil stay to introduce himself to Jeannie. Brown County’s naturalist was new to the area, and he was explaining how he’d had to work hard to get Mallory’s interest. Everyone in town knew that his wife didn’t cook and Neil had wooed her with meals, tricking her into eating some of Midu’s magical produce.
Guthrie shook his head. Midu’s produce stands were closed now. She bought her cabbage at the store, just like everyone else. Neil would have been out of luck if he’d come to Emerald Hills in the middle of winter. Guthrie passed Tana’s bonbon shop on his way home. Another shop owner with a little extra up her sleeve. He glanced at the closed signs in Gino’s Shoe Gallery window and Lolita’s Mirrors. Emerald Hills had magic sprinkled into all sorts of nooks and crannies, but he had none of his own. Not that he dismissed that it existed.
When he pulled into the lot behind his apartment and opened his car door, the orange tabby leaped onto his lap. He started, surprised. “What are you doing out here? Jeannie’s offered you a warm house and free food. If you’re smart, you’ll be grateful.”
The cat waited for him to collect his bags of groceries, then followed him inside. It padded up the steps behind him and sprang onto the old, plaid sofa. In the kitchen, Guthrie argued with himself. He pulled out three cans of tuna and stacked them in his cupboard. Just in case Jeannie ran out.
The cat came and wound around his ankles. With a sigh, Guthrie opened one can and scooped some of the tuna onto a paper plate. He wasn’t trying to compete with Jeannie for the cat’s attentions. He’d just keep the cat happy until she returned home.
When she parked in the spot behind her store, Guthrie scooped the cat into his arms and walked it down to her.
Jeannie stared. “I could swear I locked Cheese Nip inside when I left, but that cat’s a master of slipping outdoors.”
“Cheese Nip?” Guthrie looked at the cat. He’d run, too, if she named him that. But the cat squirmed out of his arms and went to stand beside his new mistress. Hmm, a cat who played both sides. Guthrie determined to be done with him. There were a lot of plastic, grocery bags in the backseat of Jeannie’s SUV. “Want some help?” he offered. He knew from experience that it was a pain carting groceries upstairs to your apartment.
“I’d appreciate it,” she said. “I don’t usually buy so many things at once, but I’m starting up here.”
It took three trips, between them, but bags finally covered Jeannie’s bright-red, kitchen table. Each chair was painted a different color—one sunshine-yellow, one purple, one royal blue, and one forest green. Bags lined her countertops, too.
Guthrie stared at the table and chairs. “I didn’t notice these yesterday.”
A wry smile quirked her lips. “I had them in the spare bedroom. I wanted to scrub the wood floors before I finished this room.”
At least no zebra-print rug sat underneath it. Guthrie rubbed his eyes. He’d never seen so much color. “Well, it looks like you’re set. Glad you’re settling in.”
Jeannie bent to pet the cat. “Poor Cheese Nip must be starved. I only had milk for him this morning.” She opened a can of tuna and put some on a plate for him. The cat turned up his nose and walked away. She stared. “Maybe he snuck outside to hunt and caught something.”
Guthrie wasn’t about to confess he’d fed him. Instead, he shrugged. “Cats are independent. You know what they say. Dogs have owners, cats have staff.”
Cheese Nip glared at him. Guthrie ignored it. “I’m glad you’re stocked up,” he told Jeannie. “Looks like the streets are going to be bad for a few days.”
Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “If you can’t make it to the ladies who usually feed you, and you’re not in the mood for a TV dinner, come knock on my door. Cooking is as creative as hat making. I love to putter in the kitchen.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her if she baked. He could be had for a cookie, but he decided that wasn’t wise. Instead, he tipped his head and started to his own apartment. He ate a TV dinner before he had to report for work.
Snow fell. Streets got slippery, and he had to rescue Salem Schmidt. After one beer too many, he got himself stuck when he was trying to leave The Brewery Bar on Gold Galleyway, and he and his friends were too drunk to push his pickup out of the snowdrift. Probably a good thing. Salem shouldn’t be driving. Neither should his friends.
Instead of tossing him in a cell, like usual, Guthrie drove Salem home and told his wife to keep him there for a while. Then he drove Salem’s friends home, too. They’d wake up with no cars in the morning, but that was their problem. By the time he returned to the station, he was cold and in a foul mood. He stared at the note on his desk. “Look in the microwave in the break room.” It was signed Jeannie. The break room held the coffee maker. A steaming cup of java would do his soul good. He took a long sip before he opened the microwave’s door. A big plate of chocolate chip cookies greeted him.
A chill ran down his spine. Was she a witch whose familiar was an orange tabby? Could she read his mind?
Who cared? He carried the plate to his desk and chowed through the cookies while he drank his coffee and filled out forms. By the time Mike strolled into the office in the morning, the cookies were gone, and Guthrie was feeling pretty good with the world. He had two days off, and then he’d back on his regular shift.
On the short drive home, he followed the snow plow. The streets looked like an impressionist painting with billowy drifts atop bright-colored awnings and spills of light glowing from windows. The parking lot behind his apartment hadn’t been plowed yet, and he had to work to get his car to the back door. Cheese Nip sat in the small recess under the awning.
Guthrie raised an eyebrow and scooped him up. “You’re beginning to show your true colors, cat. No wonder you’re a stray. Do you stay faithful to anyone?”
Cheese Nip rubbed his head against Guthrie’s heavy coat and purred.
“You’re not fooling me this time.” Guthrie looked up and saw a light in Jeannie’s apartment. He knocked on the door, and in a few minutes, Jeannie opened it wide to greet him.
“I see you’ve found my wanton tabby.” Jeannie scratched behind the cat’s ears.
Guthrie put him down, and Cheese Nip sauntered to his food bowl. Jeannie quickly filled it with shredded cheese.
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Guthrie shook his head.
She crossed her arms. “He gets tired of tuna and needs something else.”
A large, clear jar held cookies on her countertop. Guthrie tried not to lick his lips, but couldn’t help it. “Thanks for the cookies last night. They made a long, cold night look better.”
She smiled. “You got here just when I was starting breakfast. Want some pancakes before you head home to bed?”
His gaze went to a blueberry-colored pitcher filled with batter. “Do you have enough?”
“Too much. I don’t know how to make pancakes for one person. Pull up a chair.”
She had warm maple syrup to pour over them. Guthrie downed a pile of them and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “The church ladies would welcome you with open arms. They’re good cooks, too.”
“Glad to know you’re well-fed.” She rinsed the plates he carried over and put them in the dishwasher. “The offer still stands for leftover chicken and dumplings tonight.”
“I appreciate it.” And he did. “But I’ll probably be catching up on sleep.”
She tilted her head to look up at him. “Night shift is starting to show on you. I’ll finish up here. Go home and relax. I’m going to start working in the shop downstairs, making it my own. If I make too much noise, give me a call.”
He rose to leave and the cat padded beside him. Guthrie frowned at it. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re staying here.” Cheese Nip tried to follow him down the stairs. “I said no.” Guthrie hauled the cat into Jeannie’s apartment, but before he could shut the door, Cheese Nip slid through the narrow opening, determined to go with him.
Jeannie sighed. “In Cheese Nip’s mind, we both rescued him. He feels obliged to both of us. I think the only solution is shared custody.”
“For a cat?” Guthrie frowned. When he had to, he could look intimidating. He was on the tall side, broad shoulders, strong build, even if age did soften the edges a little.
“Why not?” she said. “If you can share kids, why not a cat?”
He scratched his head. “You sound like you’ve been there, done that.”
“I was the wicked stepmother for eight years. Married a man with a ten-year-old son. The kid got better with age. The man didn’t.”
Guthrie thought about the many people he’d known in Emerald Hills over the years. “There are marriages like that. They come with a five-year warranty and finally the bad outweighs the good.”
Jeannie reached for the cat, hugged him to her. Cheese Nip seemed to understand her need. His purr resonated between them. “Roy got more demanding the longer we were together until I just couldn’t give enough to ever satisfy him.”
“The more you gave, the more he wanted?” Guthrie had seen that before. He thought of Tucker Neston and his wife, Mae. Somewhere along the line, Mae should have told him to stick his head in a toilet and flush. Maybe it would have changed their pattern, but she never stood up to him, and now, she ironed his sheets, his underwear, jumped when he said jump, and Guthrie could watch her fade until someday, he figured she’d be transparent—no part of her personality left, only Tucker’s reflection.
Jeannie sighed. “I wouldn’t have stuck with him as long as I did except I loved the boy, and Jess needed me. Roy was always picking at him, too. I stayed until Jess graduated from high school. Even then, I got an apartment in town, so that I could run my shop and Jess could stop in after work if he wanted to. I didn’t sell out and move here until Jess got a place of his own.”
Guthrie had to give her credit. “You stayed for a kid who wasn’t yours?”
“He is mine. His mother didn’t take him when she left. He expected people to abandon him. I had to teach him that he was a keeper, worth fighting for.”
“Wasn’t it risky? Selling your business to start over here?”
Jeannie shook her head. “We lived and worked in Madison, on the river, not that far from here. Another tourist town. People came from all over to buy my hats. Emerald Hills is probably a better location for most of them.”
Guthrie had spent a long weekend in Madison, Indiana—full of history and atmosphere. He’d visited a lot of the shops, not that he ever stepped foot in a lady’s hat boutique. Emerald Hills had a similar feel and just as many tourists.
His gaze slid to Cheese Nip. The orange tabby didn’t know how lucky he’d gotten. Jeannie was no quitter. “You raised a boy, and now you’ve taken in a stray.”
Jeannie pursed her lips and looked thoughtfully at the tangerine cat. “I’m not sure if I took him in, or if he chose me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure who’s rescuing whom,” Jeannie said.
Guthrie scraped his hands over his face. She was getting philosophical when he was firing on too little sleep. “You’re getting a little deep for me. I’m too tired to go there.”
She smiled, dismissing her thoughts with a shrug. “Go home. Get some sleep. And enjoy your days off.”
He nodded and turned to head down the stairs. This time, Cheese Nip stayed with Jeannie.
Guthrie locked the doors behind him on his way to his apartment, went straight to his unmade bed, undressed, and fell into it.
* * * *
October 20, 2022
Action and More Action
I’ve been waiting to read Ilona Andrews’s Ruby Fever since I finished the second book in the three-book series. It finally came out, and it loaded on my Kindle, but then two of my online friends came out with new books, and I wanted to read those first to leave reviews. And they were both wonderful. Mae Clair and Staci Troilo’s The Haunting of Chatham Hollow is one of the best books I’ve read this year. And C.S. Boyack’s Midnight Rambler is a fast, fun weekend read that’s super entertaining. Then my good friend and critique partner, M.L. Rigdon/Julia Donner, gave me a new biography of Agatha Christie by Lucy Worsley for my birthday, and I LOVE Agatha Christie. But I couldn’t stand it. I HAD to read Ruby Fever. And by the time I finish it, I’ll need a nice, scholarly book, because Ruby Fever starts out BAM! with action, then there’s more action, then more, and I’m not sure it ever slows down.
So far, I’m over a third of the way into the book, and I haven’t had a chance to take a breath. Authors who write adventure/action books are under a lot of pressure when they write the last book in a three-book series. It has to be bigger and badder than the books that came before it. Ruby Fever is delivering on that, but I sort of miss some of the cheeky flirting and romance in the first book. Catalina and Alessandro are a solid couple by now, and I like that, but right now, every page focuses on the tension and action. Now, don’t get me wrong. I still love the book, but that’s not the only reason I’ve bought every book in this particular series. I love the characters. I’m thinking the youngest sister in the brood will be the next up with three books of her own. At least, I hope so. And I usually like the first book the most out of the three each character gets. So I’m already looking forward to it. Arabella’s going to be a mighty interesting protagonist, and whoever’s brave enough to take her on deserves a purple heart.
October 17, 2022
Hello, Friend!
I’ve never met C.S. Boyack, but we connected on the Story Empire site, and I now think of him as a friend. Since I like him so much, I’ve read some of his books and left reviews for them. He’s not my usual read, and maybe that’s why I enjoy his work so much. Speculative fiction’s unusual for me with lots of flair and imagination. I didn’t start Lizzie and the Hat at the beginning of the series, but once I started reading it, I’ve read every new one that’s come out. They’re short and fun. My absolute favorite book he’s written is still Serang, but he knows that:) I really enjoyed the Lanternfish series. For a quick read over a weekend, though, it’s hard to beat Lizzie. And it just so happens, Craig just published a brand new book in the series, so I invited him here to tell you about it. Take it away, Craig!
Thanks for lending me your space today, Judy. You know Entertaining Stories is always available when you need a place to share.
I’m here to talk about my newest book, but you can get most of what you need from the blurb and cover. I like to keep each post original, and want to talk about some of the gyrations in writing an ongoing series.
Years ago a few friends twisted my arm into trying series work. All of my efforts had been solo titles up to that point. I decided if I was doing it, I wanted to try one of each. I wrote and published a classic trilogy, which is different than The Hat Series. The Hat is what we’re talking about today.
I wanted this series to consist of multiple volumes involving the same setting and main characters, and to have each story stand-alone. I don’t want anyone to shy away because they haven’t read the entire series. There is no prerequisite reading here.
This kind of series poses some problems that it are worth keeping in mind. I can have smaller character arcs, but no happily ever after type endings. I need to preserve Lizzie and the hat for future adventures. This means Lizzie can’t really age, or even raise a family to some degree. I’m sure there’s a way, but taking the kids to the sitter before going out monster hunting just doesn’t click in my mind.
Each volume needs to have its own satisfying conclusion, but life has to go on. It’s different than a closed loop series. There’s no dancing with the Ewoks and hanging out with Force ghosts in a series like this. It’s a fun way to write, and I like the way it challenges me.
I don’t have any shortage of ideas for this series and see it going on for a long time. It’s the Halloween season, and Lizzie and the hat are back with a new adventure. Grab a pumpkin beer and settle in for an afternoon of dark humor, monsters, and fun.
Cover Blurb:
Something evil is after the hat. The ageless enemies have battled many times, but this time Lizzie is wearing the hat. She’s also up against a ticking clock, in that if she can’t find the maker of her new friend’s medicine he will die.
The Rambler has kidnapped the only witch capable of making Ray’s medicine in an attempt to make the hat sloppy in his efforts. He’s also flooded the streets with deadly minions to impede any progress our heroes might make.
As if that weren’t enough, Lizzie is facing more of life’s struggles, both financially and mechanically. This all goes down in the middle of a huge flood event that she’s ill equipped to handle.
Join Lizzie and the hat as they battle the elements, the paranormal, and a being of pure evil. Lizzie might be battling some personal demons along the way as she and Ray grow closer.
Get your copy here: https://mybook.to/TheMidnightRambler
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October 14, 2022
Off for a ride!
I should be writing, but the trees all changed color so fast, it felt like a miracle, a blessing from the Nature Artist. So, HH and I are taking off, going for a ride to see the beauty of nature. No work today, just play. Hope you’re having a beautiful autumn, too. And when you get back to work, happy writing!
October 11, 2022
I never realized what a boring person I am until I starte...
I never realized what a boring person I am until I started writing a blog. No, that’s not true. When I was in high school, I asked for a diary for Christmas, and night after night, I wrote the same things in it. Went to school today. Had a Latin quiz. Did 2 hours of Physics homework tonight. Yawn. I finally got so sick of me, I started making things up. “I found a dead body in my locker this morning.” (I was hooked on Agatha Christie that year). Once, “I fell through a hole between English and math class and ended up in a strange land.” (I’d just finished reading Lost Horizons). When I realized my sister was sneaking into my room when I was gone to read my diary, I wrote “I made out with XXX last night, but he’s a horrible kisser.” And then I got “the birds and bees” lecture from my mother.
I finally threw the diary away. But years and years later, when I wanted to publish a book, my agent told me I had to have a blog. And at first, that was fun because I wrote about writing–which I’m pretty passionate about. But I only have so much (and it’s not a lot) of wisdom to share, and then I had to switch to thoughts about writing–books I’d read, things that I thought worked really well for other authors, manuscripts I’m working on, etc. And then I started adding in things that are happening in my life.
But right now, every chance I get, I plop my fanny in my desk chair and pound on keys. And then even less happens in my life than before, because I’m writing more than usual. The most exciting thing that happened to me today was that HH and I cleaned out our refrigerator this morning. I love to cook, and eventually, I end up with jars of strange sauces, ingredients I bought for a recipe and haven’t used for the last four months, five different kinds of hot sauces, and a huge jar of homemade tomatillo sauce. And no shelf space. More leftovers than anyone should have. So, it was time to get stern and toss what should go. And now we can find the jar of pickles and the mustard again:) After that, I seasoned a pork tenderloin and cooked it in the air fryer for our young, single neighbor. He has Crone’s Disease and is really sick right now, so I’m careful what I make for him. No grease, so I made him a baked sweet potato, too.
Tonight, we go to meet our friends at Wrigley Field Bar and Grill , so I’m finally trying to write a quick chapter before it’s time to go. I might be boring, but time still seems to disappear. I have writers’ club tomorrow and won’t get any writing done then. But Scribes always recharges my battery, makes my fingers itch to push on keys. Which means on Thursday, it’s back to butt in chair. And I have to say, after spending too much time in hospitals visiting loved ones, boring just plain feels good. It’s a blessing.
Hope you’re having a great October, and happy writing to you, too!
October 6, 2022
Transition Chapters–Whew!
I have plot points. I know what’s supposed to happen next in my chapters. But I woke up this morning, knowing that Jazzi and Ansel were going to the derby racetrack to meet her sister and her husband and hopefully find a new clue. And BAM! All of a sudden EVERYONE showed up at the race track that night, and all kinds of things happened to advance the plot.
In this book–The Body in the Wheelbarrow–a race car driver is hit in the back of the head and killed. But the murder is probably NOT premeditated. It’s an act of passion, of anger. And Sparks makes everyone hate him. The killer is just a poor shmuck that Sparks pushed to the limits, and when he turned to leave, the guy whacked him with something hard and accidentally killed him.
I can’t hate the killer. BUT, the killer doesn’t want to get caught, and he doesn’t mind pinning it on someone else. And THAT’S when I don’t like him.
This is one of those mysteries when so many people hate the victim, you play the game of eenie, meenie, miney, mo to decide who did it. And even if you guess who it was, you feel sorry for them. Sparks would drive anyone to murder. But that doesn’t make it okay to try to pin it on Doc.
Doc worked for Sparks, and Sparks–as always–tried to gyp him. Sparks is a sneak who manipulates things to his own advantage. Everyone knows it. No one liked him. But Doc was his latest victim, so Caden (the detective) assumes he’s guilty.
The scene I wrote today brings a lot of the suspects together at the same place with Gaff and Caden, along with Jazzi and Ansel. Caden resents Jazzi interfering in the investigation, but for the first time ever, he understands why Gaff likes working with her. It was a tricky scene, and when I finished writing it, I liked it. Who knows how I’ll feel tomorrow when I go to polish it? I might shake my head and wonder what I was thinking. But let’s hope not. Let’s hope this scene worked.
October 2, 2022
We got lucky
After all my fussing, I had a wonderful birthday weekend. My daughter from Indy came up to stay with us, and we switched things up a little. On my actual birthday, we invited my sister to go out to eat with us and had a nice, cozy, low-key night. On Friday, we had friends over to eat cioppino, great bread, a big salad, and a birthday cake. Lots of yakking and laughing. And on Saturday, we had more people over to share our Mexican feast. I’d made a lot of the food ahead, so it was more relaxing than usual, and we had LOTS of food and conversation. Our daughter left today, but we had a wonderful time together.
My cousin in the hospital is finally doing better, too. Her lung’s beginning to heal after having the spot of cancer removed. She’s still tired, but the doctors think she can return to St. Anne’s nursing home soon. She loves it there and calls it “home.” Her friends have checked on her often. She enjoys two or three activities there every day. It’s a perfect place for her, because she loves “doing things.”
The coming week is completely open except for visiting her. I hope to hit the keys and get some serious writing done. Thank you to all of you for your kind words and support, but everything turned out better than I ever expected. And hopefully, Jenny will be back at St. Anne’s soon, and she’ll be happier, too.
September 28, 2022
Sorry
I feel like I’m becoming a whiner, and I HATE whining. But boy, this month has been tough. HH’s and my anniversary was Aug. 21, but we couldn’t celebrate, because he’d just had a heart attack. It’s going to be my birthday soon, and we had a big celebration planned. Lots of people were coming to stay at our house. I’ve cooked TONS of food to freeze to get ready for it. Then John’s brother’s significant other caught Covid and they can’t come. Then my daughter and son-in-law in Florida are in the path of the latest hurricane, so their flights were canceled, and they’re stuck in Florida. But thankfully (hopefully), it looks like they won’t be in the direct path of Ian, so they’ll be miserable and probably without electricity but should be safe. Safe is good. My grandson and his wife were doing a rush trip just to see Robyn and Scott, since they have a wedding to attend this weekend, so now, they don’t have to come. So….at the end of the month, my daughter from Indy and my sister ten minutes away will probably show up to celebrate with us.
And that’s not the part that’s depressing. The depressing part is that my cousin with cerebral palsy had to go to the hospital to get a spot of cancer cut out of her lung twelve days ago, and she’s still in the hospital because NOTHING has gone right. The doctors and nurses have been wonderful. It’s just BAD luck. The last time she had cancer removed from her lung, it was in the bottom quadrant. It was a quick, easy procedure. This time, the spot was in the top part of the lung…..and that changes EVERYTHING. Only we didn’t know that. They had to crack a rib to reach the spot. She was in a decent amount of pain when everything was done. Then, when they removed the tubes to expand her lung after the operation, it didn’t expand. There were fluid bubbles and air leaks. She’s had THREE more procedures to fix the problems. And they’re still not fixed. She goes from uncomfortable to in pain after each procedure. It’s been the PITS. My sister is there for her every day. I try to get there most afternoons so that my sister can have a break. But everyone’s getting tired, stressed, and a little moody. They’ve put valves in some of the branches of Jenny’s lung, and yesterday, they tried the “glue” the top leak. Fingers crossed. We hope it works. So far, it doesn’t look good, but the doctor says that sometimes, it takes a day or two to be sure.
All I know is that hospital stays and visits are tiring, and I’m not whipping out pages, like I’d hoped to. But life happens. And Jenny and my sister need support. And once Jenny is better and can get to Saint Anne’s, everyone is going to feel better. And we’re all hoping when the calm comes, it stays calm for a long time. This has been one heck of a year.
September 26, 2022
A Short Story
It’s close to October, so I thought about witches and Halloween. I like to put up a short story or two this time of year and hope you enjoy this one:
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Zephyra bit her bottom lip. Jane came to her eatery every day for lunch. The old lady had come for years, always complimenting the soup/salad/sandwiches to choose from. Her favorite day was Thursday when Zephyra offered sliced turkey breast with cranberry sauce on homemade white bread, a choice of lentil soup with peas and ham or minestrone, and a chopped or Greek salad. She always ordered the sandwich, the lentil soup, and the chopped salad for lunch but also bought the minestrone and Greek salad to go for supper.
On Fridays, Zephyra offered two sandwiches—chicken burrito wraps and Italian beef hoagies—along with French onion soup or chili, and Cobb salad. She knew that many of her customers lived in the retirement community a block away—a sprawl of single-story apartments with attached garages. They ordered one of everything to eat over the weekend when her shop was closed. There was a wonderful restaurant across the street from where they lived, and most of them went there to have supper on Sunday night. Sometimes, they sat at one table to socialize, and sometimes, they staggered their times and sat alone.
Between her older regulars and the business people who came for lunch, the eatery was always busy. Still, Zephyra did her best to keep an eye on Jane. Lately, the old woman’s eyes sparkled a little less and her smile, though always at the ready, wobbled a bit. As customers made their way down the food line, making their choices, Zephyra kept glancing at Jane’s table.
“You’re worried about her, aren’t you?” Kaylee, one of Zephyra’s assistants, sidled beside her to refill a soup pot. Only twenty, the girl was attending culinary school. She had big dreams of becoming a celebrity chef and didn’t understand why Zephyra wasn’t more ambitious.
“You’re so talented. You could run one of the top restaurants in the city.”
“I’ve run big restaurants. It was fun, but now, I just want to enjoy my time in the kitchen.” She loved to cook. It was something she could do one lifetime after another and in any location. When she didn’t age and had to move somewhere new, maybe she’d work as a pastry chef to change things up.
Another reason she enjoyed cooking was that she liked people. Well, most of them. She really liked the old lady. So, she worried when Jane’s aura faded to muddy brown with flashes of neon colors off and on. A health problem was brewing, and soon, it would be serious.
“Have you seen your doctor recently?” she asked Jane. “You look more tired than usual.”
With a tsk, Jane patted her arm. “I’m old, dear. “If I don’t take an afternoon nap, I drag myself around like a toy whose battery is wearing down.”
Zephyra couldn’t make her get a check-up, but day after day, the neon colors flashed more often until there was hardly any pause between them. For that reason, when the last customer left the shop on a Friday, Zephyra asked Kaylee and Trent, her other assistant, if they’d clean and close the restaurant without her.
Trent looked surprised. “Sure, but what are you up to? I thought you lived and breathed this place. It would be nice to think you’ve met someone, and you’re going on a date.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not that lucky. I’m meeting a friend tonight, though, and I’d like a little time to relax first.”
“It’s about time you did something fun. You’re always working. Go.” Kaylee shooed her toward the door. “We’ll have this place shining when you walk in Monday morning.”
Smiling, Zephyra hurried away. She drove home and looked up Jane’s apartment number, then drove there. The apartments were arranged so that the garages separated them from each other. Great for privacy, but no one would hear if Jane fell and cried out for help. So, she had a plan.
Everything was too open here. If she shifted, someone could see. She drove to a church down the street and left her car parked in its back lot. Then she walked to the apartment complex, and when she entered an area with a lot of trees, she let her body shrink and change, sprouting white fur, then sat before Jane’s door, meowing pitifully.
The door opened, and Jane stared down at her. “Where did you come from?”
With another pitiful meow, Zephyra slipped past Jane into the apartment. The kitchen was small and looked unused, but the living room was cozy with lots of chintz and fresh flowers. Zephyra planted herself in the middle of the carpet and stretched out, licking her paws.
Jane smiled, amused. “You don’t mind making yourself at home, do you?”
Zephyra rose to weave around Jane’s ankles, purring loudly.
“You picked a good night to visit,” Jane told her. “I have a Cobb salad for supper with bits of ham and chicken on top. I’ll share with you.”
Jane went to the refrigerator and carried the salad to the living room to eat in front of the TV. She put a paper plate on the floor and dropped pieces of meat and cheese on it for Zephyra. Then they settled in for the night. Zephyra jumped on the couch and pressed herself against Jane’s thighs. The old lady chuckled and stroked her fur while they watched The Great British Baking Show together.
They didn’t reach the end to see who’d make star baker and who’d be sent home when Jane gasped and pressed a hand to her chest. Zephyra immediately jumped down and raced to Jane’s cell phone. She used her paws to press 911 and scooted the phone to Jane.
“Heart attack,” Jane breathed, then bit out her address. When she collapsed, Zephyra shifted back to her human form to press her hands against Jane’s chest. Her healing magic flowed into her, keeping her alive until the paramedics arrived. Staying out of sight, she opened the door for them, then quickly disappeared into the bedroom to change back into her cat form.
She watched them load Jane onto a stretcher and carry her to the ambulance. When everyone was gone, she shifted back to human, locked the door to the apartment, and pulled it shut. She’d done everything she could, so she walked back to her car to leave.
A large black dog was sitting by the door on the driver’s side. It cocked its head to study her. She crossed her arms and sniffed the air. “Where did you come from? I thought I was the only witch in the city.”
The dog’s body stretched, and soon a man with pitch black hair and sky-blue eyes stood before her. “I doubt we’re the only ones, but you just saved my ancestor’s life. She doesn’t have any magic, so I’ve been trying to keep an eye on her, but she never lets me in her apartment. She’s afraid of dogs.”
“Why didn’t you just stay with her in your human form?”
“Because she never came to my pizza parlor. I meant to schmooze with her if she stopped in, but she loves your restaurant more. When I tried to cozy up to her at her Sunday night supper spot, she didn’t want anything to do with me. Told me young men were only nice to old women when they were trying to bamboozle them.”
Zephyra laughed. “She’s sharp for her age.”
“Yeah, so was her tongue when she thought I was up to something.” He extended a hand. “I’m Conan. Thanks for being there for her.”
“I hope it helped. I hope she’ll be all right.”
“You did all you could. I saw you press your magic into her.” He gave a nod and started toward a car parked on the other side of the church. She started to her car, too, when he called to her. “Maybe we’ll bump into each other again. My pizza place is on Calhoun. If you stop in, I’ll make you a free pie.”
A tempting offer. She thought about Conan on her drive home. He was good-looking and seemed nice. But she was happy living a nice, quiet life, baking bread for sandwiches, simmering soups, and enjoying her customers. That was enough for this lifetime. Spending time with another witch would only complicate things. And she didn’t need any complications this time around. Things were purr-fect, as is.
September 20, 2022
Free
Just a quick note to let you know MURDER, THEY WROTE–an anthology with short stories from D.P. Reisig, C.S. Boyack, Mae Clair, Kathleen Palm, Julia Donner, Rachel Sherwood Roberts, and me is FREE from Sept. 20-24.
