Judith Post's Blog, page 56

A snippet

This is from BAD HABITS, my first Lux mystery:

Keon drove to the Black Dog Pub a short distance down the street and close to his apartment.  We found a small table in a corner, and a few people waved at him as he passed.  He met a lot of people as a chef.  A few smiled my way, too.  I’d interviewed my share of experts for articles, in and out of town.

A man sitting at the bar got up and walked toward us.

“Speak of the devil,” Keon muttered.

Almost six feet tall and stocky with blond hair and blue eyes, he grinned at me but talked to Keon.  “Hi again.  I talked to one of your brothers tonight.”  His gaze never left my face.

Keon frowned, not hiding he was irked.  “So I heard.”

The man nodded to me.  “Aren’t you going to introduce us?  Offer me a seat?”

With a sigh, Keon motioned to a chair.  “Detective Petersen, this is a longtime friend of mine Lux Millhouse.”

He sank into the chair next to mine.  “You can call me Pete.  Everyone does.”

Keon motioned for three beers, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and hunching his shoulders.  “Any ideas who shot the guy in the parking lot?” he asked Pete.

“Not a clue.  Not much chance of catching him either.  Drive-by shootings and gangs are too random.”  He returned his attention to me.  “What kind of journalist are you?”

The question threw me off balance.  “How did you know I was a journalist?”

“Tyson mentioned it.”

Oh.  “Freelance,” I told him before taking a sip of my beer.  “My next assignment is Drugs in the Midwest.  I might give you a call for information.”

He pulled out a business card and handed it to me.  “Can we trade?”

I dug for one of mine and gave it to him.

“Mind if I call you for a drink sometime?”

“Why not?”  He seemed nice enough.  It never hurt to have another contact I could call.

Keon’s brows drew together in a scowl.  “Are you two done flirting?  I came here to relax.”

Grinning, Pete pushed out of his chair.  “Nice seeing you, chef.  Hope to eat at your place sooner rather than later.”

Keon watched him return to his friends at the bar, then turned to me.  “Do you give your number to anyone who asks?”

His prickly mood caught me by surprise.  “He seemed decent enough.”

“For a cop.”

“You’ve never had any trouble with cops before.”

“Maybe it’s just him.”  He took a sip of his beer.

I laughed at him.  “You’re not in the best mood tonight, but you’ve had a lot on your plate lately.  You’re more worried about Tyson than you admitted, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.  I don’t like it that you’re involved in this.”

“How could I not be?  You guys are like family to me.”

“But we’re not family, are we?  You forget that sometimes.”

I stared, hurt.  His comment felt like a slap in the face.  “Are you telling me to butt out, that this is none of my business?”

“No, I never think that.”  With a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose.  “I’m trying to tell you that. . .well, that. . .“ He stumbled to a halt and shut his eyes, frustrated.  When he opened them again, he was calmer.  “Never mind, I’m being stupid.  This is coming out all wrong.  I must be tired.”

I immediately reached out to touch his arm.  “Let’s drop it for tonight and just enjoy our beers.”

He grimaced, still upset, but nodded.  He raised his glass to me.  “Thanks for coming with me tonight.”

We clinked drinks and purposely talked about other things.  After our second beers, he stood.  “Ready to go home?”

On our way out, I glanced at the bar and Pete was gone.  So were his friends.  On the drive to Keon’s apartment, I said, “It’s been a big day.  When we get to your place, it’s straight to bed for me.”

That seemed to frustrate him again, and I frowned, puzzled.  I could usually read Keon really well, we’d known each other so long.  But something was off tonight and I wasn’t sure what it was.

 

Family

Our family is small.  HH’s parents are gone.  So are mine.  I have two sisters…sorry, one now…I’m not used to saying that.  My younger sister died a little over a week ago.  Neither of them married.  HH has one brother.  He married, but he and Stephen had no children before they separated.  We have two daughters, but my younger and her husband decided against children, too.  My older has two boys, grown now, and one of them recently married.  But that’s it.  If we have a “big” family get-together, there are only eight people.

My aunts and uncles are all gone.  So are HH’s.  We have cousins scattered somewhere but haven’t kept in touch.  At my grandson’s wedding, the “groom’s” side of the room was filled with lots of family friends, but hardly any family.  We shake our heads once in a while at our puny size, but we make up for it in how much we care about each other.

When HH and I first got married, it was easy to fill our house with over twenty people with our parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.  Not any more.  But in the books I write, families are important cores of the stories, even if in Muddy River, “families” are supernaturals who came together to escape being hunted and bonded to protect themselves.

Jazzi, in her series, invites her family and a few chosen friends to her house every Sunday for a family meal.  Each week, they get together to stay in touch and catch up on each others’ lives.  When HH and I first got married, my dad insisted that we take turns cooking suppers with them every Thursday night.  Mom cooked one week.  I cooked the next.  He told us that if we didn’t, it got easier and easier to drift apart.  We were happy to see Mom and Dad and my two sisters every Thursday.  The only problem?  I’d never learned to cook.  I had to plan ahead when it was my turn so that they’d have something edible.

Both sides of my family had reunions once a year.  So did one side of HH’s family.  We met uncles and aunts we only slightly knew and cousins we only talked to occasionally.  There are no more reunions for either of us.  Not any of my friends attend any either.  Maybe reunions got too hard to do when families moved farther and farther apart.

In my Lux series, Lux was an only child, and she lost both of her parents soon after she graduated from college.  But the Johnson family “adopted” her, and she grew so close to them that she moved to Summit City when the four oldest Johnson siblings moved there.  They’re the family she never had.  In the second Lux book that I’m working on now, even her beloved Cook moves to be close to her.

Family isn’t always the people who share your bloodline.  Sometimes, when you move to a new city, they’re the people who share your heart.  In all three of my new series, family plays a big part in the storylines.  Probably because it’s so important to me.  What about you?  Are you close to your families?  Do you still have reunions?

Whatever you’re working on, happy writing!

Mystery Musings

I just finished reading SCARED STIFF by Annelise Ryan.  Her protagonist is an ex-ER nurse who has to leave the hospital she loved working in when her husband–Dr. David Winston–cheats on her with a fellow RN.  It’s too awkward for Mattie to work with David, and no one’s going to fire a skilled surgeon, so Mattie finds herself working as an assistant to her friend, Izzy, the town’s coroner.

My daughter’s a nurse.  So are a few of my friends.  When they get together, I hear an information overload about diseases, body parts, maladies, and things that can go wrong.  It always makes me hope I stay healthy.  And their humor?  If cops are known for dark humor, nurses might be able to top them.  Some of the situations Mattie finds herself in made me chuckle and cringe at the same time.

After she moves out of her house, her husband wants her back.  But Mattie is thrown together with Hurley, the new homicide detective in town.  And Hurley is delicious.  When she and Hurley are called to examine a dead body, Mattie discovers it’s the nurse her husband was cheating on her with.  Mattie doesn’t want to reconcile, but she doesn’t believe David is capable of murder.  So she starts poking into things.

This series does a great balancing act of mixing medical facts, humor, and clues, along with romance.  It makes for an entertaining mix.

Food

My grandson is in the marines.  He’s served most of his four years and will be out later this year.  For a long time, he was stationed so close to San Diego that he could zip there and order the most wonderful Mexican food he swears he’s ever had.  It’s authentic.  And he’d bug me about making “American” Mexican food, so I bought a cookbook and sometimes went to the bother of making pork shoulders and chuck roasts with seasonings and shredding them, etc. to make my Mexican meals more “real.”   Now, he’s in Pendleton, California, and the food’s okay but nothing to brag about, and he often calls to ask me what I’m making for supper that night.  The last time he came home for leave, he had a list of things he wanted me to cook for him.

My daughter and the two boys spent most of their growing up years living with us so that she could study to be a nurse and survive.  We all liked it, and the boys loved to help me cook.  They liked it so much that they became pretty darned picky about what they liked and didn’t.  To the point, that when they were in fifth grade and their teacher was on a chapter about nutrition, she did a quick Q & A for the kids to recognize different foods.  Our boys were the only ones who knew every single item, even the odd ones most of the other kids couldn’t identify, like bok choy, napa cabbage, artichokes, and anchovies.  Our older grandson would go to the grocery store with me because he liked to pick out the cuts of meat I bought.  He was really serious about chuck roasts.

Both boys are really good cooks today.  So are both of my daughters and the boys’ friend who spent a lot of time at our house.  When he moved in with his girlfriend, he’d e-mail me for recipes.  I still love that kid.

I love to cook so much that it sneaks into every book I write.  And I really DO love to cook.  We only grab takeout or go out to eat once or twice a week, including lunch.  But with Covid, and restaurants closed, I got bored and started making recipes I’ve never tried before.  And nearly all of them have been successes.  Some recipes are more dependable than others:)  For French cooking, I always fall back on Ina Garten’s cookbooks.  I have almost all of hers.  For variety, I love Nigella Lawson.  My daughter bought me her new cookbook for my birthday a couple years ago.  For gatherings, I pull out Pam Anderson, and for healthy (I’m diabetic), I turn to Marlene Koch.  They’re true, trusted cookbooks that have never let me down.  BUT, a girl can never have too many recipes.  So I tear pages from the many food magazines I’ve subscribed to.  I read them for the same reason I attend my writers’ meetings twice a  month.  They recharge my batteries and inspire  me to try something new.

My biggest new fad lately has been recipes for my air fryer.  And one of my favorite cookbooks for that has been Every Day Easy Air Fryer by Urvashi Pitre.  I’ve made shrimp & chorizo tapas, chicken souvlaki, and char sui, Cantonese BBQ pork, from that, among many other things.  Nigella taught me the joy of coconut milk sauces, but this cookbook includes flavors that I’m not familiar with, and that’s fun.  Even after our favorite restaurants open, (and I can’t wait), I’ll still grab this cookbook just because it’s not the usual spices and rubs that I use.  I have more Oriental recipes than anyone needs (because the boys loved them), but these pull more from Morocco, the Middle East, India, and Africa.

Which means, that somewhere in the future, when you grab one of my books (I include recipes in my Jazzi mysteries), you might see spice mixes you’ve never seen from me before.  And you’ll know that they cheered me during our virus scare.  And they just might cheer you, too.

Here’s to happy cooking, happy reading, and lots of happy writing!

 

 

Writing Helps Center Me

Writing has made me a better person.  I don’t do well sitting and relaxing and having too much time to think.  I’m not sure what that says about me or my disposition, but I get antsy and grumpy with too much free time.  Cooking relaxes me, makes me happy.  So does writing.  Both, for me, are creative outlets.  Maybe that’s why I have trouble writing the same types of books back to back or cooking the same things over and over again.  I get bored.

I’m used to cooking and writing with lots of distractions.  Actually, when the phone’s ringing off the hook or people are underfoot, both activities keep me from snapping at anyone.  Or at least, I snap less.  This week has been particularly chaotic.  My younger sister died on Sunday morning.  She’s been on oxygen 24/7 for a long time with diabetes she didn’t control very well.  She lost more and more energy and strength until lately, she got winded just talking on the phone.  She went into the hospital Saturday night, had tests, was teasing nurses at 8:30 a.m. when they came to take her vitals, saw her heart doctor, and half an hour later, fell asleep and didn’t wake up.  The doctor said when her  pulse tanked and her alarm beeped, he was only twenty steps away from her, raced into her room, and she sighed and smiled, and that was that.  I’m happy for her.  When it’s my time to go, I hope I get that lucky.

Neither of my two sisters married, though, and they bought houses next to each other.  My youngest sister–twelve years younger than I am–is whom I feel sorry for.  She’s going to REALLY miss Patty.  She told me she feels so alone now.  We only live ten minutes apart, but I’m not the same.  And I understand that.  My two sisters were a team.  Now the team’s down to one player.

I know from watching friends, losing someone really close to you can shut you down and nothing brings comfort until you can work through your grief and come out on the other side.  That’s where my sister is now.  So I’ve told her to call me as many times in a day as she wants to.  I’ve told her when she needs help with anything, I’m here.  And she’s called a lot.  And that’s good.  Because when I hang up the phone or return home, I write or work on something that’s writing related.  And I center myself.  She’s lost.  For now, I have my husband, my writing, and my cooking, and I’m okay.

I sound a bit like a fraud, like I should be mourning more, too, but things were only going to get worse for Patty.  And I’m glad she was spared that.  My dad died from multiple myeloma, and it took years.   When he died, his spine and skull looked like they’d been riddled with moths, full of holes.  If I could have, I’d have spared him that.  My mom died of Alzheimer’s, and that took ten years.  It was worse.  Dad was still dad until he let out his last breath.  Mom lost being mom along her journey.  But just because quality of life goes away, health can make people linger.  Patty didn’t have to.  When her quality of life could have taken a real nosedive, she got to leave.  That’s what I focus on.

I have friends who are atheists, agnostics, Jewish, you name it…and I respect their beliefs…but I firmly believe in life after death.  So I picture Patty in heaven with Mom and Dad and all of her pets, and I picture her flying.  She always wanted wings.  I doubt that they’re pure white, but I bet they’re fun.  Patty’s free, so it’s my youngest sister who needs me now.  Grief takes a long time, usually at least a year, but I’m determined to be there for her.  At least, as much as she’ll let me.  My family’s a stubborn lot.

And when things get to me, I’ll write.  Or cook.  I hope you find your happy spot.  And happy writing.

Snippet

Thought I’d share a scene from BAD HABITS.  Hope you like it:

Keon called me before lunch on Monday.

“Mom and Dad are here with Tyson.  Everyone else is busy with something.  Do you have time to look at a few different condos with us?”

“I can be at your place in half an hour.”  I hadn’t taken a shower and was dressed in stretch exercise pants and a T-shirt.  I’d pulled my long, copper hair back in a ponytail, but he’d seen me looking worse.  I was no beauty like Gabbie.  She could go makeup free and still look gorgeous.  Not me.  Even with makeup, I only had a fifty-fifty shot.

“Am I pulling you away from your writing?”  He cared about stuff like that.

“It’ll be here when I get back.  No little fairies are going to come and finish my article for me, but I haven’t seen your parents for months.  Warn them I look a mess.”

His chuckle reverberated over the phone.  “You can’t scare us off that easy.”

“See you soon.”  I ended the conversation, grabbed my purse, and hurried to the garage.  A few minutes later, I was on my way to his apartment.  He lived on the south side of town like I did in an apartment complex close to shops, grocery stores, and his restaurant Seafood and Catfish.

I thought his apartment had an inconvenient layout.  It had two large bedrooms, but he had to climb inside steps to reach his living area.  I’d helped him carry up groceries when he’d volunteered to make me a scallop dinner once, and it was a chore.  He thought the view from his balcony was worth it.  I wasn’t so sure.

“I don’t live on a manmade pond like you do,” he’d told me.  “Our pond is in the distance, and I can only see it from the second floor.”

When I got there and saw his van in the parking lot, I noticed his parents’ Chevy Impala beside it.  It took me a few minutes to find a spot, and then I zipped to knock on his door.  His mom opened it and held out her arms to me.  I stepped into them.

“Look at you!”  She shook her head.  “You ain’t gonna catch no man runnin’ around lookin’ like that.”

I laughed.  “I’m not looking today.  The only people I wanted to see were you and Leroy.”

“What about me?” a voice asked from behind her.  “No love for me?”

I craned my neck to see Tyson.  He was thinner than the last time I’d seen him.  “You’ve lost weight.  It’s a good thing it’ll be Easter soon.  You need to fill up on some good food.”

He winced, and I felt bad.  I was as bad as Terrance.  Words popped out of my mouth before I edited them.  Probably not the best thing to say to an addict trying to get clean.

“Excuse me!”  Cecily put her hands on her hips, a smile curving her lips.  “I seem to remember a skinny little thing eatin’ plenty of my vittles.  Tyson here’s harder to tempt, rarely has an appetite.”

I licked my lips remembering Mrs. Johnson’s fried chicken and collard greens.  Keon served greens with his catfish suppers, probably his mom’s recipe.

“Did I hear little Lux Millhouse?” Leroy Johnson asked, coming toward us with Keon, who grabbed the last suitcase near the foyer and carried it upstairs to the spare bedroom.

“I’m so glad you came,” I told the three of them.

Mr. Johnson’s brows dipped in a frown.  “We gotta talk, girl.  Keon told us that you and our four hellions plan on makin’ up the difference to buy us a condo.  That’s a sweet thought, but ain’t no reason for you to throw your money at us like that.”

I raised my chin, locking gazes with him.  “Growing up, no one bothered to come looking for me when I didn’t come home after school, because they knew I’d be at your place.  You gave me a home, so if I want to chip in on giving you one, I can.”

Laughing, he shook his head.  “Always were a little spitfire.  No wonder you and Keon kept bumping heads.  He’s always been plenty opinionated, too.”

Coming to join us, Keon shook his head.  “Don’t compare me to her.  I was raised better.”  Turning to his mother, he asked, “Anything else to carry in?  Or are you settled?”

“A movin’ van’s bringin’ everything else when we find a place to stay,” she told him.

With a nod, he motioned to the door.  “Then let’s look at some condos.”

 

Mystery Musings

Unrest.  After watching the news, I understand why people are angry and carrying signs that Black Lives Matter.  EVERY life matters.  I get that.  But it makes me wonder if I published BAD HABITS at the wrong time.

In my mystery, Lux Millhouse has been best friends with Gabbie Johnson, a black girl, for a long time and visited her home often.  So many times, that when Gabbie and her three older brothers pack up to leave Chicago and move to Summit City to start businesses, Lux moves, too.  Lux came from rich parents, who died soon after she starts her career as a newspaper reporter.  The accident takes them so suddenly, Lux wants to sell everything and start over someplace else.  And she invests in the Johnson brothers’ businesses.

More, she’s known Gabbie’s older brother, Keon–a chef–for so long that it surprises her to realize that she doesn’t think of him as a big brother.  She’s attracted to him and wants more.

I really wanted Lux, who’s rich and white, falling for Keon, who’s black and fell for her a long time ago, to be no big deal.  In my mind, it ISN’T anything major.  When my HH and I got married and moved into our home, we picked a small community that had been swallowed up by the city.  Our neighbors were nice.  Everyone kept up their properties.  So it came as a shock to learn that our little town had once been a stronghold of the KKK.  But times change, and when the KKK wanted to march down our street, people shrugged and said, “So what?  Let them, but we don’t want to see them.”  And when no one got riled up and didn’t care much, they canceled their march.

When our daughters started school, race wasn’t much of an issue either.  And our middle class neighbors shrugged when daughters came home to introduce their parents to their black or Hispanic boyfriends.  “Is he nice?  Will he be good to you?” were the big questions.  Mind you, I don’t know how this happened.  I don’t know when it became no big deal to the people we knew.  All I know is that we all had to work hard to pay our bills, and we knew those people were working hard to pay their bills, so we were all trying to make ends meet together.

When our daughter graduated from cosmetology school and came home to introduce her boyfriend, a black chef, to us, his family had a lot more money than we did.  We were middle class.  They were upper middle class.  And Jason cooked the most wonderful anniversary dinner for us I’ve ever had in my life, and we liked him.  He and my daughter didn’t make it, but it wasn’t because of race.  It had a lot more to do with temperaments, but to this day, we still like him.  So does our daughter.  They just should never live together.

Anyway, this is a roundabout way to say that I wanted to show a rich, white girl with a black chef and it is NO BIG DEAL.  They’re two people who are right for each other.  But right now, things have gotten so sensitive, I hope people see it that way.  That’s how we lived it.  That’s how some of our neighbors lived it.  And I hope, someday, that becomes the norm.  Maybe we got lucky.  Or maybe it’s because we were all middle class.  I don’t know.  But it’s time it just doesn’t matter.  It doesn’t matter in BAD HABITS.  And that’s how I wanted it to be.

 

 

Another New Book

I’m sorry.  I really am.  I just loaded BOUNTY HUNTED onto Amazon a little while ago, and I try not to drown anyone with my books.  But I wrote the first book for a new mystery series months ago and my agent just gave me the okay to self-publish it.  If I were smart (and that happens sometimes), I’d hold onto it for later in the year, but I already have plans for then.  Add to that, I REALLY hate waiting–and I’ve already waited a long time–so I put it up on Amazon.

I know the two book releases are too close together.  Not smart marketing.  But BOUNTY HUNTED appeals to urban fantasy and supernatural fans, and BAD HABITS is a mystery.  Not a cozy.  Lux’s book is more splash-dash, more untraditional.  She’s every bit as loyal to people she loves as Jazzi or Hester (from my other series), but she’s more unorthodox in her approach to problem-solving.

Luxury Milton Millhouse’s parents are filthy rich, but usually absent, so whenever she can, she spends time at the Johnsons’ house, with her BFF Gabbie’s parents and four brothers, who happen to be black.  She comes to think of them as her second home.  She’s so close to Gabbie and the three oldest brothers that when her parents die in an accident, and the Johnson siblings are moving to Summit City to start new businesses, she moves, too.  She wants to leave Chicago and its memories behind.  It’s not until Mr. and Mrs. Johnson retire and Keon talks them and his youngest brother into joining them in their new city that trouble follows them.  Then it’s time for Lux to use her journalist degree to find out why people are breaking into Tyson’s car and a dead body is found next to his open trunk.

 

Visiting….

Today, I’m visiting Mae Clair’s blog to yak a little about BOUNTY HUNTED.  Mae and I are internet friends.  I always read her blog, and I love her writing.  I can’t say enough about her Hode’s Hill series, I loved it so much.  I hope you stop by to visit me on her site, and while you’re there, you might want to see what she shares:

https://maeclair.net/2020/05/28/new-release-bounty-hunted-by-judi-lynn-urbanfantasy-paranormalmystery-shortread/

Best Sellers

I read In The Market for Murder by T. E. Kinsey and really enjoyed visiting Lady Hardcastle and her kung-fu maid, Florence, a second time.  Humor permeates these books.  This one takes place in 1909, but Lady Hardcastle is way ahead of her times, always pushing the boundaries and solving crimes.  The mysteries–three in this book that seem separate but are all connected–are solid.  I like it when I read a mystery and the mystery is a decent part of the plot and well thought out.  These are.

I bought the first book in this series because I looked at the top 100 mysteries for some category and noticed not one or two, but FIVE of T. E. Kinsey’s mysteries listed.  And they were historical.  Always a plus for me.  So I decided to try one.  And I found it extremely entertaining.  Which surprised me.  In my mind, I had decided that best-selling books had to be weighty and serious.  Lady Hardcastle is NOT serious.  Neither is her maid, Florence.  They take potshots at each other and enjoy it tremendously.  Lady Hardcastle enjoys brandy…often.  And when stressed or bored, Florence fills the kitchen with so many cakes, they have to give most away.

In this particular Lady Hardcastle mystery, sleights of hand play a big part.  There’s a séance that might or might not be legit.  Trophies disappear from a case but the thief didn’t leave the premises.  All clever.  All fun.  And the books are hugely popular.  As they should be.

My theory that bestsellers have to involve angst, character growth, and a certain amount of suffering hasn’t proven true in this case.  The stakes didn’t make me lose sleep.  I fell asleep smiling.  And I love it!

I hope whatever you’re working on is going well, and enjoy this LAST week of May.  I can’t believe it.  It’s almost June–which I love.  But where did the time go?  Again?