Edith Maxwell's Blog, page 143

Guest-Sharon Farrow

Jessie: Planning what to do with the remaining days of summer vacation!

I am delighted to welcome Sharon Farrow to the blog today. She is one of those writers who amaze me. Not only does she write both contemporary and historical novels but she writes as half of a team with her friend Meg Mims. In addition to all that she is a regular contributor to the Sleuths in Time Facebook group. Without further ado, here’s Sharon!

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JAWS IS COZIER THAN YOU THINK

I regard JAWS as the greatest adventure film ever made. But not until I began writing cozies, did I notice similarities between the hunt for a killer shark and the hunt for a cozy murderer. So cue the John Williams music.

Setting: Like most cozy mystery novels, JAWS is set in a quaint, scenic locale. The picturesque island of Amity even has a cozy sound to it. Like my own fictional village, Amity relies on summer tourists for their annual revenue. In JAWS, Amity’s business owners resist publicizing the shark threat because it might discourage visitors. Cozy townsfolk often have the same response when a corpse is found in their midst.

Cozy Characters: A colorful cast of characters always inhabit a cozy. Amity’s residents would fit right in, starting with their sheriff. Chief Brody has recently moved to Amity from the big city. Given his fear of water, this seems strange. But when asked why he moved to an island, he replies, “It’s only an island if you’re looking at it from the water.” Spoken like a true cozy character.

We also have Brody’s secretary Polly, who puts outdated files on his desk while announcing the karate school nine-year olds are karate chopping the picket fences. Mayor Larry Vaughn is such a rabid Amity booster, he’s willing to have tourists become a floating buffet for a Great White. A councilman wants Chief Brody to do something about the cats “barking” outside his house, while a local fisherman steals his wife’s holiday roast to bait the shark. 

Then there’s Quint, who runs a fishing charter service, bootlegs apricot brandy, and is a survivor of the infamous shark attack on the USS Indianapolis. You don’t get more colorful than Bartholomew Marion Quint. 

A Mystery: JAWS begins with a mystery when the remains of a young woman wash up on shore. Brody believes a shark killed her. But the mayor insists it was a boating accident, overriding Brody’s decision to close the beaches. Although Brody is the sheriff, he is treated like a cozy sleuth. As a newcomer, he is not taken seriously by town authorities, who mistrust his judgment and disregard his opinions. Even after the shark strikes again.

Sleuthing: Brody only makes progress on the case when he meets oceanographer – and fellow sleuth – Matt Hooper. Indeed, Hooper’s forensic examination confirms Brody’s suspicion about the first death.

When a tiger shark is caught, the town assumes everyone is now safe. However, this is a red herring (no fish humor intended), misdirecting us from the real danger. Once Hooper and Brody cut open the shark and learn it has not killed anyone, they continue sleuthing on the open water. Upon discovering the boat of a fisherman, Hooper pries the tooth of a Great White from the ship’s hull. But after he accidentally drops their only piece of evidence, they still aren’t believed.

It’s Personal: Many cozy plots center around a local celebration or special event. Here, a significant scene takes place on the Fourth of July when the shark not only claims another victim, but Brody’s son is nearly killed. Cozy sleuths have a personal reason for getting involved in a crime. His child’s close call makes this personal for Brody. 

Amateur Hour: The climax involves a pursuit on the ocean by Brody, Hooper, and Quint. Brody, a former big city cop, is completely unprepared. Even oceanographer Hooper has no experience with an animal this huge and dangerous. The only shark hunting pro on board the Orcais Quint. Except his obsessive quest for revenge makes him a liability.

It is Chief Brody’s last minute ingenuity that saves his life and puts an end to the rogue shark. A landlubber with a fear of water – a true amateur on the high seas – yet he ends the threat when no one else could. Our cozy sleuths would be proud. Now pass the popcorn.

Readers, what do you think is the best adventure or the best mystery movie ever made? Answer below to win a signed copy of MULBERRY MISCHIEF, my upcoming Berry Basket mystery. North American residents only.

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BIO:Sharon Farrowis the latest pen name of award winning author Sharon Pisacreta. Published in mystery, fantasy, and romance, Sharon currently writes the Berry Basket mystery series, which debuted in 2016 with Dying for Strawberries. She is also one half of the writing team D.E. Ireland, who co-author the Agatha nominated Eliza Doolittle and Henry Higgins historical mysteries. Visit Sharon at sharonfarrowauthor.com,on Facebook @SharonFarrowAuthor,on Instagram @ sharonfarrowauthor, or Twitter @SharonFarrowBB.

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Book Summary:

Autumn has arrived on the shores of Lake Michigan, but Marlee Jacob, proprietor of The Berry Basket, is feeling a chill for other reasons . . .

With the Harvest Health Fair in full swing, Marlee has stocked up on elderberry products for cold and flu season. But this year there’s also a run on mulberry when Leticia the Lake Lady wants to use the dried berries to ward off evil forces. True, it’s Halloween season, but something else seems to be spooking Oriole Point’s oddest resident. She believes someone plans to kill her – and the ghost. Only mulberries can protect her. Marlee doesn’t take her fears seriously until a man named Felix Bonaventure arrives in the village, asking questions about a mysterious woman.

Guest Judy Sheluk

Edith here, milking the end of summer for all it’s got! And happy to welcome Judy Penz Sheluk back to the blog. She has a new book out – A Fool’s Journey, book 3 in her Marketville Mystery series – and a story about three research assistants! But first, the book blurb:

In March 2000, twenty-year old Brandon Colbeck left home to find himself on a self-proclaimed “fool’s journey.” No one—not friends or family—have seen or heard from him since, until a phone call from a man claiming to be Brandon brings everything back to the forefront. Calamity (Callie) Barnstable and her team at Past & Present Investigations have been hired to find out what happened to Brandon, and, if still alive, where he might be. As Callie follows a trail of buried secrets and decades-old deceptions only one thing is certain: whatever the outcome, there is no such thing as closure.

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A Tale of Three Nieces

I have three beautiful nieces. While relatively close in age
(mid 20s to mid 30s), they’ve followed completely different paths in life. Ashley
works in cyber security, Leah is a personal trainer, and Rebecca is a social
worker. And yet each of them garnered a credit in the Acknowledgments in my
latest Marketville Mystery, A Fool’s
Journey, featuring protagonist Calamity (Callie) Barnstable and her team at
Past & Present Investigations.

With a background in journalism (2003 to 2018), I’m well
aware of how important research is, and as an author (and avid reader), I’m
equally aware how one false fact can spoil the literary broth. And so when I was
creating the character of tattoo artist Sam Sanchez, I knew I needed help: I’ve
never been inside a tattoo parlor, and the closest I’ve come to voluntarily
getting pricked by a needle is getting my ears pierced when I was twelve.

Enter niece Ashley, who, when not fighting crime, running
ultra marathons, or parenting her four-year old son, participates in local
theater. More recently, she played the role of Gretchen in the regional TV show
Kitchener
Sync, where a housemate referred to her as “Tattoo Barbie.” Enough
said!

At any rate, Ashley was able to come to the rescue with a primer on tattoo talk. Now, I knew that a complete arm of tattoos was called a “sleeve” but what I didn’t know was that one inside the elbow is referred to as a “ditch” tattoo (apparently quite painful) and symbols on the fingers are known as “finger bangers,” whereas the generic tattoo artwork is known as “flash”— though Ashley assured me that most folks want custom designs these days. Further research revealed that tattoos became mainstream following the airing of the TV show, Miami Ink, in 2005, and that vintage flash art has now become quite collectible. Did all of this information make it into the book? Of course it did!

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Niece Leah came to the rescue when I was trying to find the
perfect spot for an auction and art gallery that specialized in tattoo flash. I
wanted the gallery, aptly named Light Box (a piece of equipment used in
tattooing), to be situated in the scenic town of Burlington, Ontario. When she’s
not building bodies (including bench pressing her own weight), Leah hangs out
with her equally ripped-abs, fit hubby at their home in Burlington. Her Google
maps links to various spots in downtown Burlington were instrumental in helping
me fine-tune the details that allowed me to imagine, and subsequently describe,
the gallery and surrounding area, right down to the stucco-fronted,
awning-covered buildings and street parking. In fact, the street parking led me
to write a somewhat humorous scene where my protagonist, Callie Barnstable, is
trying very hard to avoid parallel parking, given her last attempt was when she
got her license 20+ years earlier. What can I say? Sometimes Callie’s a bit
like me…

Niece Rebecca’s MSW was put to good use when Jeanine
Westlake, stepsister to Brandon Colbeck (the man Callie has been hired to find)
explains various parenting styles to Callie. Jeanine, you see, is a social
worker, and the owner of New Beginnings Center for Life. Her childhood was also
vastly different from that of her stepbrother…even though they were both raised
in the same house. For this, I’d done a ton of research on my own, learning
about styles defined as authoritarian or disciplinarian, permissive or
indulgent, and authoritative, and I sent the chapter delving into all of that
to Rebecca, quite sure she was going to say it was perfect, and giving me 5
stars for research.

Well…not exactly. While I had the facts right, the way
Jeanine explained the various parenting styles to Callie was completely wrong.
“We wouldn’t talk in such absolutes,” Rebecca wrote me, and proceeded to offer
suggestions on the way a social worker would offer information and counseling.
It was a perfect example of how online research should never be used without
consulting with an expert.

And that’s how my three nieces made it into the
acknowledgments of A Fool’s Journey.
Could I have done it without them? Probably. But it wouldn’t have been nearly
as much fun.

Readers, have you ever gone to a family member for advice on writing or a decision you were trying to make that fell outside of your knowledge zone?

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Judy Penz Sheluk is the author of the Glass Dolphin Mystery and Marketville Mystery series, and the editor of The Best Laid Plans: 21 Stories of Mystery & Suspense. Her short stories can be found in several collections. Judy is also a member of Sisters in Crime, International Thriller Writers, the Short Mystery Fiction Society, and Crime Writers of Canada, where she serves as Vice Chair on the Board of Directors. Find her at judypenzsheluk.com.

Wicked Wednesday-Take Care

Jessie: Squeezing as much fun as possible from the last few weeks of summer!

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Last week we talked about ways that we recharge our own batteries. This week I wondered what your characters do to renew themselves. Or are they like so many people in real life who don’t take the time to do so?

Julie: What a great question! Lilly Jayne, in the Garden Squad series, is actually being recharged by getting back to the business of life in Goosebush. Fixing issues with gardens and with people recharge her. I feel like she’s getting more vital with every book.

Edith: I love that Lilly is recharged by fixing people, Julie. Robbie Jordan goes out for long hilly bike rides to clear out the cobwebs from working in her country store all day. Rose Carroll finds solace and new energy by sitting in silence. And, like me (see last week’s WW), Mac Almeida on Cape Cod gains a fresh perspective by spending time with her delightful four year old niece, Cokey.

Jessie: It sounds like both of your sleuths have great ways to renew themselves! My sleuth, Edwina Davenport, loves her garden too and also loves to read western novels. Her dear friend and sleuthing partner, Beryl Helliwell, had always found feats of derring-do and exotic travel as a good way to refresh her spirits until suddenly she was all adventured out. She was surprised to find that a life of connection in a quiet country village was just what she needed to refill her well.

Barb: I’m laughing because I’m doing my page proofs for Sealed Off and I just read this passage, narrated by Julia Snowden. “Chris sometimes observed that I’d failed to leave my New York City pace behind. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was a workaholic nutcase.” Chris has been helping Julia slow down, partially by demanding their winter restaurant be closed two days a week. But in all the books that take place during tourist season, Julia is working twelve hours a day–and solving a murder mystery. So no time for fun.

Sherry: Barb, I have my page proofs for Sell Low, Sweet Harriet! I guess that’s not too surprising since both our books come out on December 31st. (Is that blatant self promotion or what?) I just read this that Sarah thinks: After all that had been going on, I needed a diversion. I decided to stop at a new thrift shop in Ellington that wasn’t far from base. It opened up a few months ago and raised money to fund historical sites in the area. Sarah loves to go to a garage sale, flea market, thrift shop, or antique store when she’s stressed. The thrill of the hunt always gets her mind off things. 

The Detective’s Daughter – To Market

 

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Kim, in Baltimore, hiding out in the air conditioning.

 

I was probably about nine years old the first time I went to a grocery store. My grandmother didn’t believe in them. Anything we needed we could buy at the market she always said. Saturdays were market days. After breakfast Mom and I would trail after Nana as we walked over to the Cross Street Market. The market, built in the early 1900’s, is in the Federal Hill neighborhood of South Baltimore and was only several streets away from our house. Nana bought all our groceries for the week there. We started at the Utz counter to get out chip tin refilled and ended our visit with me racing past the seafood display because I hated the way the fish stared up at me.[image error]

Market meant family to me. I knew following our shopping we would return home to a house full of Aunties and cousins waiting for us. Nana would make dozens of sandwiches and Mom would put on the coffee. I was in charge of plating all the sweet treats we bought at Muhly’s Bakery on the way home. We ate and talked and Pop-Pop would play his guitar. Saturday was always my favorite day.

Many years have passed, and though my grandparents are gone, I have kept faithful to the market tradition. There are still market places operating in the city.  In addition to the Cross Street Market we have the Lexington, Broadway and the Hollins Market to name a few.

For the past seven years I’ve been spending my Saturday mornings at the 32nd Street Farmers Market in Waverly, an outdoor market that is open year round. It’s nice to see families with the children being pulled along in wagons by their parents and to listen to the many musicians scattered throughout the stands.  It’s also a great place to catch up with neighbors, and former co-workers. Last year I ran into a young woman I had [image error]babysat when she was a toddler and was delighted to see she now has a child of her own.

Under the white tents you can purchase anything from coffee to smoothies and even whiskey. It’s hard to decide which stand to visit first. There’s a French bakery where they make crepes, both sweet and savory. Mark, the accordion player, will entertain you while your order is prepared. A long line of customers can always be found waiting for breakfast sandwiches at another spot or  in front of a truck that makes wood oven pizzas.

In addition to fruits, vegetables, meats and poultry, there’s goat milk fudge [which is absolutely delicious and gluten free, too!], falafel,kombucha, waffles, and even beer. My visit always begins at the same place, Andy’s Eggs and Poultry. I need to get the staples of my meals first.[image error]

The most important factor of the market for me is meeting the farmers and the people who are making what I am feeding my family. In today’s world where so much of our food is processed and contains products I can’t even pronounce, I want to know exactly what ingredients I’m eating. This is the main reason I shop local.

Over time the markets may change, as well as my shopping and eating habits, but Saturday will always be my favorite day.

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Dear Reader, what is your Saturday tradition? Do you shop your local markets?

Bursting

Jessie: In Maine where the nights are beginning to cool.

On Saturday I did something that still surprises me several days later. I ran my first 5K race. To tell the truth, it was the first race I had run since some time in elementary school. I have no idea how I got the notion to try my foot at running but sometime in late 2018 I did.

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I downloaded a C25K app on my phone, loaded my Netflix queue with foreign films with subtitles to keep my mind busy while on the treadmill and laced up some old sneakers I had bought on sale in the children’s clearance section of a local department store.

I felt pretty good the first week and was proud of myself the second but by the third I was pretty sure I was in over my head. Weeks 4-6 were daunting and I was not at all sure I would manage weeks 7 and 8. But somehow, with enough positive self-talk, putting it down in writing in my weekly planner and choosing an unrelenting commitment to reaching the end I completed the program.

To be honest, I did a few of the workouts twice instead of moving on to the next one on the list. I had days when I slowed my pace. I began following a bunch of runners and running hashtags on Instagram so that inspiration would show up in my feed. In just over nine weeks I went from someone on the couch to someone running for 35 minutes uninterrptedly. The first time I managed that, I was so proud I almost burst.

But I never ran outdoors. I didn’t run with anyone else. I didn’t even run on treadmills in hotel gyms when I traveled. I would pack my gear into my carry on bag and never end up using it.

All that changed when I told my son I was almost done with my program. He had started running himself and suggested that I plan to go running on the National Mall with him when I visited just before Malice Domestic in April. Once again I packed my gear but this time I pulled it out of my bag, climbed into it all and headed out into public view with my encouraging kid at my side. I was so proud of myself I almost burst. Somehow, in my own mind, I had crossed an imaginary line I never thought I would.

Then came May. My son moved to Maine and suggested we sign up for a 5K race in our beach town scheduled for August 17. I took a deep breath and agreed. All through this summer I have been strapping on running shoes I bought in the women’s department of a shoe store. I’ve jogged past neighbors and dogs and beachgoers. I began to be recognized by other joggers along a shared route. I was so proud I almost burst.

On Wednesday my back went out spectacularly. On Thursday I developed a hacking cough and floodgates of congestion. On Friday visitors arrived from out of town to stay for a few days. On Saturday my son and I went to the race anyway. And we ran it. It took me longer than I had expected and was harder than I had hoped it would be. But, at the finish line, I was so proud I almost burst.

Which, of course, brings me to writing. When I wrote my first book I was uncertain, intensely private about what I was doing and not in the least sure I would ever reach the finish line of a novel. But by scheduling time for it, by looking to others for inspiration and by making an unwavering commitment to getting to the end I ended up with a book. I was so proud I almost burst.

Readers, have you ever done anything that left you bursting with pride? How have you surprised yourself in a good way? Writers, do you have another activty that seems similar to writing to you? Runners, any tips for me?

Cover Reveal for Nogged Off

by Barbara Ross, in a house on the Jersey shore with 16 adults, 2 six year-olds and 2 babies.

I just received the cover for the standalone ebook of my novella, Nogged Off, which will be available on October 29.

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What do you think? I’ve noticed Kensington covers for stories about the off-season in Busman’s Harbor, when the cold winds blow, are always from the point-of-view of someone on the inside looking out. They certainly are a lot cozier that way.

Nogged Off is the novella that was originally in the holiday collection Eggnog Murder, which also contains novellas by Leslie Meier and Lee Hollis. Kensington has decided to release it as a standalone ebook.

[image error]So for those of you who have read Eggnog Murder, don’t buy this ebook! You already own the story. But for those of you who only know the Snowden Family clambake from the mystery novels, this could be the chance you were waiting for! In the Maine Clambake world, this story falls between Fogged Inn and Iced Under.

I loved writing this story, which was my first novella. I posted about the story behind the story here. I hope this ebook edition gives more people a chance to enjoy Nogged Off.

Readers: Tell us, have you started your shopping, squirreling little presents away or will you wait until some magical mark-Labor Day, Veteran’s Day, Christmas Eve?

A Tale of Two Rescues, Part I

By Liz, hoping summer doesn’t come to an end anytime soon…

It’s been nearly a year since I lost my Shaggy, my best little friend. All of you are more than familiar with my stories about her and my seemingly endless memories and pictures – and I appreciate all of you humoring me. Don’t worry – this isn’t another memorial post.)

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But I was so lonely after she died – and I was also hibernating a little, which wasn’t good. Since I work from home, I had no reason to even go outside after she died. And most days, if I didn’t go out to yoga or the gym, I wasn’t getting out at all. I had to fix that before it became a problem. Plus, I was missing everything that came with having a dog.

So last November, I adopted two new dogs. Both puppies (I know, I know). Molly, my schnauzer/Lab/true mutt mix, was completely planned. I did my research online, I scoured Petfinder, I spoke with a number of rescue groups about a number of dogs. I went back and forth in my own mind about whether or not I should get another schnoodle, like Shaggy, and decided not right now. I thought I’d constantly compare a dog of the same breed to my girl.

So I looked at other mixes. I do love schnauzers – they are so stinking smart and loyal – but it wasn’t a hard and fast criteria. Molly just happened to have that in her mix. I had actually put in a request for Molly’s sister, but when I spoke to the woman in charge, she told me about Molly, who wasn’t even up on the website yet.

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“Black dogs often get overlooked,” she told me, which I knew to be true from my own rescue adventures (black cats too). I spoke to Molly’s foster parent down in Arkansas and he told me what a lovely dog she was at just five months old. I was sold. I arranged her transport, and then I had to wait a few weeks.

In the meantime, I wasn’t supposed to be looking at Petfinder any more. I wasn’t, really, but I hadn’t cancelled the daily email updates. Still, I wasn’t looking at them (most days) but one day, when I was away for work and bored at whatever I was doing, I scrolled through. Just for the heck of it.

And I saw this face.

[image error]Penny’s adoption photo.

Of course, she was a schnoodle. Of course, she was super cute. And of course I knew I didn’t need two dogs under a year old.

So of course, I put in an application. “I’ll just see what happens,” I told myself. “I’m sure someone’s already scooped her up.”

I didn’t get a response for a couple of weeks – in fact, not until two days before I picked up Molly. The response was an email that said, Congratulations, you’ve been approved to adopt Wizzy! She’ll arrive on transport next Thursday.

There was no conversation with the foster parent, if she even had one. I don’t actually know where she was staying before she was shipped up from Tennessee. I wasn’t even asked if this date worked for me, which it really didn’t since I had to go away two days later and it wasn’t ideal. It was all a blur, which gave me pause because Molly’s adoption had been so different. But how could I say no to that face?

So I said yes. Molly had been with me for six days when her new sister arrived, and she was the perfect dog, second only to Shaggy, of course. She was super well behaved, sweet as can be, and totally potty trained. And so calm. All the chaos I’d prepared for ahead of time with her never came to pass.

And then I picked up Penny…

Tune in next month for the rest of the story. In the meantime, tell us in the comments something you’ve done impulsively that turned out right! (Or wrong, for that matter!)

Wicked Wednesday-Recharge

Jessie- In Maine, enjoying the pace of life at the beach.

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When life gets hectic we all need a little time to recharge our batteries and it seems to me summer is the perfect time to find the time to do just that. This week I am wondering how and where each of you recharge your batteries. What about a memory of a time you did just that.

Julie: There are so many ways to recharge my batteries. Rest will do that, for sure. But I find that travel recharges my batteries in a wonderful way. I’ve take a couple of river cruises in the past five years, and I can’t speak highly enough of the experience. Gentle cruising, lots of sightseeing, only having to unpack once, good food. A lovely way to recharge.

Edith: I recommend a dose of other people’s little children. I get to hang out with my favorite toddler (my great goddaughter) nearly monthly, and she’s such a delight as she explores the world, language, and her own will. I was at a potluck Friday that included a two year old and a five year old grandchild of two Quakers. So much fun to play and talk with them! Children are just present, a recharging lesson I very much need.

Liz: Time with good friends is definitely a favorite way to recharge. And reading – lots of reading. Especially at the beach. Most recently, I’ve started hiking more and I find that’s a wonderful way to get grounded and get some exercise. I always leave feeling recharged.

Barb: Wait–we’re supposed to recharge? Why does no one tell me anything?

Jessie: I’m afraid so, Barb! Consider this your notice! I would love to take a river cruise like Julie! Until then, I spend time walking the beach, hosting gatherings of friends and knitting.

Edith: Haha, Barb – but, ahem. Aren’t you currently at the beach with grandkids? You have two primary recharging stations covered right there!

Sherry: I’m with Barb. There hasn’t been a lot of time for recharging this year. But I’m thinking about booking a cruise in November. I don’t even care if I get off the ship. I just want to gaze at the water and not have to be responsible for anything.

Readers: what do you do to recharge your batteries?

Guest- Susan Van Kirk

Jessie: In Maine, dreaming up the plot of my next mystery!

I am just delighted to host Susan Van Kirk on the blog today! Not only is she a fellow writer and frequent commenter on the blog, she was a tremendous resource for my next release, Murder Cuts the Mustard! I mentioned in one of my posts here that I was planning to add a scene with bridge to the book but was very unsure about the nuts and bolts of the game. Susan came to the rescue when she emailed me and generously provided me with the information I needed about the finer points of bridge! Thanks so much, Susan!

Hiding the Evidence



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I decided to clean my home office closet last week—my three-door-across-three-shelf-plus-lots-of-floor-space closet I have been throwing items into for the past fifteen years. It occurred to me that if I didn’t take care of this, at some point my three children would have to. I know this sounds thoughtful of me. Yes, I do try to be a kind person. However, somewhere in that overstocked closet was a box with all my high school diaries I needed to shred before an unforeseen catastrophe brought the children home.

Now what does this have to do with my new mystery, A Death at Tippitt Pond? 

In my closet-cleaning days, I found boxes of various items belonging to my deceased family members. Photographs, jewelry, high school yearbooks from 1933, the sign-in book from my mother’s memorial service in 1972, the Dallas Morning News pin my sportswriter brother wore to work, the picture of the house I grew up in that no longer exists, and, oh, so many other artifacts reminding me of the passage of time and the family from whence I sprang. And photographs—so many photographs.

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Besides this infinite mound of photographs, I found the stash of my father’s love letters to my mother when he was in Germany near the end of WWII. While chasing Hitler’s army to their final reward, he wrote these letters on lined paper with a ball-point pen. He poured out his dreams for their future, the love he felt for her, and the family they hoped to have. As I read them, I marveled at the fragility of human life and relationships: the possibility he might not have made it home (and two of us wouldn’t have been born), and the relief my mother must have felt each time she received one or more of these letters.

Love letters—family—history.

A Death at Tippitt Pond begins a new series with both mystery and history. Beth Russell, my protagonist, is a historical researcher and genealogist who hires out to well-known authors to do their research. (Now, that would be my dream job.) Ironically, she knows little about her own family tree, and as for relatives, well, she is alone in the world. When an unusual set of circumstances takes her from Long Island to Sweet Iron, Illinois, she is confronted with a past, a murder, and a family she didn’t know existed. As my friend and mystery writer, Molly MacRae puts it, “Suddenly everything you know about your life is wrong—and the truth is better but also shockingly worse.” 

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This first book in the Sweet Iron mysteries leaves me lots of room to maneuver. In A Death at Tippitt Pond, I explore the music, fashion, and attitudes of the late 1960s. Yes, it does make me mildly irritated to admit that a period I occupied in the last century is now considered past history. Chantilly perfume, anyone? 

In my series Beth will explore a mystery in present-day Sweet Iron while she also researches her new family genealogy to find out about W.W. Tippitt, who ran both the newspaper in the 1850s and a stop on the Underground Railroad. After that, I have in mind relatives from the late 1800s, the early 1900s with its suffragette movement, and the huge wars. 

History is about people and their lives. Intertwining a mystery plot with the rich context of historical periods is a challenging goal for me. And I love it.

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Susan Van Kirk lives at the center of the universe—the Midwest—and writes during the ridiculously cold, snowy, icy winters. Why leave the house and break something? Her Endurance mysteries are humorous cozies about a retired school teacher in the small town of Endurance who finds herself in the middle of murders. Her new series about Beth Russell combines history and mystery in her debut, A Death at Tippitt Pond. Van Kirk taught for 44 years in high school and college, raised three children, has low blood pressure (a miracle after all that), and is blissfully retired. You can find out about her books at www.susanvankirk.com

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Secrets long buried surround the murder of teenage Melanie Tippitt. The daughter of a wealthy family in a small town, her lifeless body was found floating in Tippitt Pond in the summer of 1971. Six people were there that day, and one was convicted of her murder. Case closed.

     Now, forty-five years later, Beth Russell, a freelance researcher and genealogist, is brought to the town by a lawyer who believes Russell is the daughter of Melanie Tippitt and long-lost heir to the Tippitt fortune. Soon Beth finds herself surrounded by people who want her gone as soon as possible, people with a great deal to lose. The more they push the more determined Beth is to discover the truth. The ghostly presence of Melanie Tippitt, a stranger watching from the woods, and the discovery of secrets in Tippitt House make for a suspense-filled investigation where Beth discovers A Death at Tippitt Pond changed everything.

Readers, do you remember Chantilly perfume, bellbottom jeans, CPO jackets, miniskirts?

Remembering Lea Wait

The crime fiction community–and the world–lost a treasure a few days ago. Lea Wait was a New Englander, a friend to all the Wickeds, a gracious and courageous woman, and an immensely talented and productive author. We take today to remember and memorialize her.

Lea’s daughters have invited anyone wishing to attend a remembrance of her life to join them on Wednesday, the 14th, at 147 Eddy Road, Edgecomb, Maine, from 1- 3 pm.  

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Wickeds, please share about Lea: your memory, tribute, funny story, or thoughts.

Julie: When I think of her, especially during this past year, fierce grace comes to mind. At Crime Bake I was so thrilled to see her, and told her that. She didn’t downplay the battle she was in, but did say that she was feeling better and was grateful for that. Right before Malice she posted that she’d broken her ankle, and I thought “oh no!” But then there she was with a walking cast and friends who were happy to help her. She was a lovely woman and a wonderful writer. And she had fierce grace that taught me a lot this past year.

Liz: Amen, Julie. I didn’t know Lea as well as some of the Wickeds, but I always enjoyed seeing her at events and getting to know her. I remember meeting her husband Bob once and thinking how adorable they were together. I too was in awe of her spirit and stamina this past year, and I’m glad I got to speak with her one last time at Malice.

Edith: Exactly, ladies. I am quite sure I wouldn’t have been so motivated to keep going, to keep making conference visits, to finish books under contract as Lea did, and with no public complaining. She really was a talented writer, weaving traditional mysteries with the flavor of Maine, her knowledge of antique prints, the world of adoption, and so much more. I loved the story of her and her dear Bob finding each other again after decades apart, and that they had some years of true marital bliss toward the ends of their lives. May your soul rest peacefully, Lea.

Sherry: This quote by Leonardo Di Vinci makes me think of Lea: I love those who can smile in trouble, who gather strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection. Lea was a talented, funny, generous woman who taught me more this past year than I  knew I needed to learn. I’m glad I knew her.

Barb: I wrote my tribute to Lea a year ago. At that time she thought she had weeks or, at the outside, months. But it turned out she had a year, a “bonus year” as she called it. She used it well. She wrote a blog post for Maine Crime Writers of all the things she did with her bonus time. Lea had been a friend and a mentor to me for a long time by the time of her diagnosis, but in the past year she has given me one last gift, the gift of modeling how to face death with grace, dignity, and humor.

Jessie: Lea was always such an inspiration. We were on a panel to gather several years ago in Scarborough and I was impressed by her wide-ranging body of work. As time went on and I understood what it takes to remain in the business I was more impressed still. She continued to inspire awe long after her health took a turn for the worse. I felt so privileged to see her on a panel at the Maine Crime Wave on the first of June. She showed everyone how to be a class act all the way until the end.

[image error]Barb, Edith, Lea, Sherry, and Julie at an opening at the Stable Gallery in June 2018. Lea’s late husband Bob Thomas’s paintings hang in the background.

Readers: Please share your memory of Lea or her books. (And if you haven’t read her books, please do – find them at Lea Wait.)