Edith Maxwell's Blog, page 53
January 27, 2023
Are you a fashionista? Welcome back Alyssa Maxwell – and a giveaway
By Liz, happy to welcome Alyssa Maxwell back to the blog! I love this post about fashion through the years – I know you will too! Take it away, Alyssa!
Hello Wickeds! Thanks for having me back, and hello to all your readers! Let’s get right into it with a question: are you a fashionista? Do you love the feeling of being all put together, or are you happier in a t-shirt and jeans/shorts/whatever? I’ll admit I’m a little of both, or maybe a little fashionista and a lot casual.
Nowadays, of course, we have the freedom to make these choices for ourselves; we can dress as we like pretty much wherever and whenever we want. Such wasn’t always the case, though. Until the 20th century, there were fairly strict rules about fashion (among the very wealthy, there were even rules about how you dressed in the various rooms of the house!) and oftentimes clothes defined who you were – at least in terms of your economic status. Clothes also formed the basis of first impressions, much more than they do now. Whether you were a wealthy society lady, a servant, or a middleclass matron, your clothes tended to reflect your place in society.
That remained true up until the second decade of the 20th century. WWI redefined many aspects of society, including the clothes women wore. Gone were restrictive corsets, dragging trains, narrow, floor-floor length skirts, and the many layers that kept women from enjoying freedom of movement. Why? Because during the war, more and more women entered the workforce to fill in for the men who were off fighting. Even society women joined the effort. For example, Gertrude Vanderbilt and others of her class served as Red Cross nurses near the front lines. Of necessity, women’s clothes became simpler, the hems shorter, and the styles less class specific.
As the war ended, a name in the fashion world began to spread through Europe. Coco Chanel had been working as first a hat designer, and then as clothing designer in Paris during the 19-teens, and following the war her popularity began to take off. Coco embraced the idea of comfortable fabrics like jerseys and tweeds and favored styles that all women could wear, no matter their economic status. In fact, Coco had such an egalitarian view of fashion that she didn’t mind when other manufacturers began copying her designs and making them more affordable. Coco Chanel’s fashions not only reflected the expanding roles in women’s lives, they also helped facilitate those changes by providing fashions that empowered women to move, to be bold, and to be themselves — and not what society had always determined them to be.
In A Lady & Lady’s Maid Mysteries, Julia Renshaw, the eldest sister, has been a follower of Chanel’s fashions for several years now, and in this latest release, A Fashionable Fatality, she is thrilled to host her fashion guru in her home. Right here, though, I’m going to stop and repeat a quote I read recently:
“Don’t meet your heroes.”
Although Coco Chanel is still years away from choosing the wrong side to be on during WWII, she is already exhibiting the traits that will lead her to make those regrettable decisions. As Julia – along with sleuths Phoebe and Eva – finds out, while someone you admire may be utterly brilliant at what they do, it’s no guarantee that they’re actually a decent human being. As Eva and the Renshaw sisters soon learn, Coco Chanel is difficult, self-centered, oblivious and indifferent to the needs of others, and often downright mean. Which is partly what made her such a compelling secondary character for this book. Who doesn’t love to write about one of history’s villainesses, and give her a bit of what she deserves in the end? While Coco is never a suspect, she IS very much a catalyst driving those around her to behave as they do, which can be pretty contentious at times – contentious enough for someone to commit murder.
Have you ever met someone you’d admired from afar – and were you delighted or disappointed in that person? Or, tell us someone admire and whether you would ever like to meet that person. Comment below for a chance to win a signed hardcover copy of A Fashionable Fatality! (U.S. addresses only due to shipping costs.)
More about the book:
A house party attended by fashion royalty becomes the backdrop for a murder that only Lady Phoebe Renshaw and her lady’s maid, Eva Huntford, can untangle . . .
Amid the aftermath of the Great War and its hardships, it’s no wonder that many wish to rediscover life’s pleasures—parties, fashion, dancing. Still, Lady Phoebe and Eva are disconcerted when a small gathering at the home of Phoebe’s sister, Julia, becomes a far larger and more glamorous affair . . .
Julia has invited her favorite French fashion designer, Gabrielle “Coco” Chanel, and Coco’s current beau, the Earl of Chesterhaven. Coco has brought an entourage of her own, including two models, and intends to use the gardens as a photographic setting for her latest creations.
Mademoiselle Chanel is as outspoken as she is talented, offering a scathing critique of Phoebe’s fashion sense. There is tense competition between the models as well. When one of the guests is found dead of smoke inhalation, it appears to be a tragic accident. But was a footman really to blame for mistakenly closing the fireplace flue, or is there a more sinister explanation?
Phoebe is determined to find out, despite the protestations of her sweetheart, Owen Seabright. Both above and below stairs, Phoebe and Eva uncover myriad motives—career ambition, romantic rivalries, and even deeper betrayals. For despite the surface beauty, there are ugly secrets in the world of Maison Chanel, ones that a killer will risk anything to protect.
Bio: Alyssa Maxwell knew from an early age that she wanted to be a writer. Growing up in New England and traveling to Great Britain fueled a passion for history, while a love of puzzles of all kinds drew her to the mystery genre. She and her husband live in Florida, where they love to swim, ride their bikes, and shop at farmer’s markets and consignment stores. Alyssa also loves to watch BBC productions, sip tea in the afternoons, and delve into the past. She is the author of The Gilded Newport Mysteries and A Lady and Lady’s Maid Mysteries, and a member of The South Florida Fiction Writers and the Mystery Writers of America-Florida Chapter.
You can find Alyssa’s website here, and find her on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and Goodreads, and on Sleuths in Time.
January 26, 2023
All the Dark Places – Welcome Terri Parlato
By Liz, very excited to welcome our “other genre” guest Terri Parlato to the blog today! Terri writes psychological/domestic thrillers. She was born and raised in upstate New York. She currently lives in a small town in north Georgia with her husband and their dog, Lucy. ALL THE DARK PLACES is her debut novel.
What drew you to the genre you write?
I’ve been writing stories pretty much my whole life. And I’ve written stories in many genres: historical fiction, sci-fi, adventure and, of course, mystery. So how did I end up becoming a published author of a domestic thriller?
Like most writers, I am a voracious reader and I read across many genres, but a few years ago I got hooked on psychological thrillers. There are so many amazing ones out there. And I thought, hmm, maybe I’d give that a try. What appealed to me most was the mystery, solving the puzzle, and of course the twists and turns that are so important in this genre. But it’s tough. You want your reader to be intrigued, turning pages well into the night, trying to decipher the clues you’ve carefully laid for them. You can’t give the game away too early, and you can’t give them an ending where they want to throw the book at the wall because they were cheated out of clues either, so it’s a challenge.
What sets your book apart from what is out there?
I think what is different about ALL THE DARK PLACES from most thrillers is my detective. I’ve enjoyed the plethora of fictional detectives I’ve read about, each with his or her own distinct looks and characteristics. But I wanted something different, and I think found that in Detective Rita Myers. She’s a middle-aged woman, not unheard of among detectives, but not common either. And I wanted her to be strong, vital, fit and attractive at sixty years old. I am a baby boomer. Many of my friends are baby boomers, and we’re not ready to retire and sit on the sidelines and bake cookies. (Although there’s nothing wrong with that!)
What’s it about?
Molly Bradley is a woman who was the victim of a horrific crime when she was a child. She’s dealt with her past by hiding it from everyone except her psychologist husband, Jay. She thinks she’s got her life on a good even course until the morning after Jay’s fortieth birthday party. Molly finds him brutally murdered on the floor of his home office. Her world, of course, begins to unravel and her past rears its ugly head placing her in danger once more.
What sparked the idea?
A few years ago, I was watching the news and they were reporting on a woman who had been the victim of a horrific crime as a child. She was in the news because she was releasing her second nonfiction book, a book to help survivors. And I was so inspired by her story, yet I wondered what if I created a character who struggled to put such an event behind her, but it came back to haunt her once more.
What are you currently writing?
I’m working on my next Detective Rita Myers story. People really seemed to like her, and I’ve grown fond of her as well.
Do you write a series or standalones? Why?
ALL THE DARK PLACES is the beginning of a series, I hope. I’m not ready to let go of these characters and their little fictional town. They have more to offer, I think.
What are you reading right now?
Speaking of detective series, I’m in the middle of Tessa Wegert’s THE KIND TO KILL. It is the fourth book in the series, and I’ve really enjoyed every one. And she sets her stories primarily in upstate New York, which is where I’m from. So, that’s great too.
What is your favorite deadline snack?
I’m a chocoholic. Not very creative, but there it is. I love chocolate in all its various forms. A particular favorite is sponge candy, which you can’t find in the south because it is too warm and humid to make here, so I have to order it from chocolate stores back home.
Do you have a favorite quote or life motto?
“Make magic while you can.” I have that hanging in my office. I don’t know who said it, maybe me. And it is a little creepy, but my point is, life is short and there’s no time to waste.
Favorite writing space?
My home office with the door closed.
What do you see when you look up from writing?
A painting of a butterfly perched on the rim of a mug given to me by my cousin, who is a professional artist. On the mug it says, “Choose Joy.” Writing psychological thrillers can be a dark and creepy occupation, so the painting is a good reminder.
January 25, 2023
Wicked Wednesday – Celebrating Four Leaf Cleaver and Irish Coffee Murder
Happy Wednesday! It’s the final “out with the old, in with the new” week, and we’re also celebrating the release of IRISH COFFEE MURDER by Barb and FOUR LEAF CLEAVER by Maddie (aka Edith). Each has a theme of St. Patrick’s Day. Woo hoo, ladies!
St. Patrick’s Day is steeped in tradition in Ireland and the US, many of which have lasted for generations. Since we’ve been talking about ‘out with the old’ this month, which traditions have you done away with that were once part of your life (or family)? Which ones will you pass on?
Julie: Congratulations Edith/Maddie and Barb! One thing I’ve let go of re family traditions is the idea that they have to go a certain way. Dinner has to be at X time, or include Y food items. For me, I have to have ABC in order to be successful. Letting go of expectations.
Jessie: I no longer bake tons of treats at the holidays. I used to go all out and create breads, teacakes, and cookies as well as gingerbread houses. But with the children mostly living in their own places now I am not desirous of quite so many tempting leftovers! So now, I constrain my efforts to a few family favorites and call it good!
Sherry: Yay! More books to read! Congratulations, Edith and Barb! I haven’t continued my mom’s tradition of making lots of different kinds of Christmas cookies. But we have definitely kept our Christmas Eve tradition of having pizza for dinner. We’ve added going to look at Christmas lights and most years watching a Christmas movie.
Liz: Congrats, ladies! I’ve been trying to let go of having to have everything perfectly decorated, which I always liked to do even if it’s just me. I love decorations – especially for Halloween and Christmas – but I’ve purged a lot over the years and I’m trying not to stress myself out replacing everything.
Edith/Maddie: Thanks, dear Wickeds! I have always loved Halloween. I still do. I used to throw a big costume/dance party, even when my oldest was a baby. As my sons grew, I decorated the house and the front windows and each family member carved a pumpkin. I now no longer have the bin of Halloween decorations in the basement, and this year I didn’t even carve a jack-o-lantern. But I still love handing out candy at the door and admiring the costumes. When indoor dance parties in cold weather are COVID-safe again, I am determined to restart the costume party tradition.
Barb: Thanks, everybody! We have many holiday traditions in our family, especially clustered around Christmas. One that amuses me is our every other year Thanksgiving-Christmas schedule. The year my son was born and my brother married, my mother, who had quite a bit of the Field Marshall about her, announced that for Thanksgiving and Christmas she wanted all of us–or none of us. “I’m not putting on that whole show for half of you,” I believe she said. And thus our every other year tradition was born. In even years Bill and I were at my parents for Thanksgiving and with his family for Christmas and the next year we’d reverse. It’s been more than forty years. My parents are ten-years gone, and we are on to the fourth generation. Bill’s family was always large and now our two families sprawl in all directions. We still (with the exception of the Covid years) maintain the schedule. People who never knew my parents, who don’t celebrate with us (but rather who celebrate with our extended family members in our “off” years), even people who live in multiple other countries, know and abide by Kim Ross’s holiday schedule. Thinking about it always makes me smile.
Readers, what about you? Have you let go of any holiday traditions? Tell us in the comments!
January 23, 2023
Robbie Meets Julia, or a Two-Protag Mashup
To celebrate our shared release today, Edith/Maddie and Barb decided our protagonists should meet up briefly. Get ready for a mashup!
Robbie Jordan stared, stunned, at the picturesque harbor before them that June.
“Wow. Busman’s Harbor, Maine looks just like…” Her voice trailed off.
“Just like it’s supposed to?” her aunt, Adele Jordan, asked.
“Something like that.”
Robbie and Adele had flown east from Indiana to visit an ancestor’s home in Massachusetts and decided to take a jaunt to the Maine coast as part of the trip.
“Look.” Adele pointed to a building at the edge of the busy harbor, an old warehouse with peeling paint and an antique gas pump outside. A steady stream of people came in and out the front door, giving lie to the building’s look of deserted decrepitude. “Maybe we can get lunch there.”
Robbie’s stomach gurgled. “Let’s do it.”
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Adele said.
The door opened to a set of stairs, leading down. The thrum of muted conversation emanating from below was encouraging. At the bottom, in the front room, a counter and a kitchen stood in front of them and a strange kind of bowling alley or shuffleboard lane behind them. The other room of the restaurant, with large windows that looked out on the busy harbor, was nearly full, but not completely.
At a round table in the center of the room sat a group of uniformed police.
“Good sign,” Aunt Adele said, sticking her chin in their direction. “The local cops eat here.”
“Who are you?” The man in the white apron who met them at the door was old, but by no means frail.
“I’m Robbie Jordan,” Robbie started. “And this is my Aunt–“
The man shook his head. “Nope, nope, nope.” He stepped forward, backing them toward the door at the bottom of the stairs.
“I own a restaurant myself,” Robbie added. Maybe professional courtesy would apply. “In Indiana.”
“Definitely nope,” the man answered.
Robbie looked helplessly at Aunt Adele. Maybe it was better to just go.
A petite blond woman who was sitting alone at the end of the counter came over. “Gus,” she said severely. “These are my guests, Robbie and her, um, aunt.” She put an arm around Adele’s shoulders protectively and walked them toward the open stools next to where she’d been sitting. “Quick,” she whispered to Robbie. “Tell me everything. You own a restaurant in Indiana.” She led them onward, physically and conversationally, introducing herself as Julia Snowden.
“She does,” Adele piped up. “She owns and runs the cutest country store restaurant. Pans ‘N Pancakes is the most popular place in the county, and she sells vintage cookware, too.” Her aging blue eyes were still bright. “Plus she’s married to an adorable man, and she has a clever teenage stepson, and–,”
“Stop, Adele,” Robbie said. “You’re verging on TMI. Julia doesn’t want to hear about all that.”
“Really, I do,” Julia said, slightly envious. This woman not only had a business, she had a husband and a family. Julia heard the tock of the big hand on her biological clock as it moved inexorably forward. She always pictured it as an antique mantel clock, handwound, which amused her when she was able to be amused by it.
By this time they were seated. Julia got up again and grabbed menus. Most people at Gus’s didn’t bother. The offerings hadn’t changed since long before she was born. “Be sure to order the French fries,” she said to her erstwhile guests.
Gus approached from behind the counter with a pad of paper in his hand and took the stub of a pencil from behind his ear. He shot Julia a skeptical look from under his great, white eyebrows and said, “What’ll it be?”
Robbie ordered a BLT with fries, even though she’d hoped for a Maine lobster roll, and Aunt Adele a tuna melt, both drawing approving looks from Julia. Adele insisted on trying a Moxie, despite Julia’s warning that Maine’s signature soda was an acquired taste.
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Adele repeated. It was becoming their mantra for the trip.
“Just water for me, please,” Robbie said.
“It’s funny that you’re in the food business. My family runs a clambake here.” Julia described the clambake to her guests, who were enthralled.
“So you call it a ‘dining experience,'” Robbie said, fascinated. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. It sounds wonderful.”
“You should come,” Julia urged. “How long will you be in town? Our friends-and-family soft-opening for the season is tomorrow. It’ll be a little rough, but…”
“We’re supposed to go back to Massachusetts first thing in the morning.” Robbie looked at Adele.
“Our flight isn’t until Monday,” Adele reminded her.
“We’ll let you know. Thanks for asking us, Julia.”
After their food was delivered, Julia and Robbie settled down to a long talk about food vendors, staffing, scheduling, and challenging customers. The fries were as delicious as Julia had promised. Robbie had acquired a deep fryer for her restaurant just last month. She wanted to ask Gus his secret, but the scowl he wore whenever he looked in their direction persuaded her otherwise.
The group of police filtered out of the next room. A handsome blond man detached himself from the group and waved. “Bye, Julia.”
“Bye, Jamie.”
Adele watched them go. “Running her place isn’t the only thing Robbie’s good at. She’s also good at solving murders.”
Julia’s jaw dropped. “You. Are. Kidding. Me.” She put her hand on Robbie’s arm. “Please come to the clambake tomorrow. We need to talk again. I think we’re going to become very good friends.”
Readers: What do you think? Should Robbie and Julia start collaborating on crime-solving? What other mashups do you enjoy?
In Four Leaf Cleaver, there’s no mistaking Saint Patrick’s Day at Pans ’N Pancakes, where the shelves of vintage cookware in her southern Indiana store are draped with Kelly-green garlands and her restaurant is serving shepherd’s pie and Guinness Beer brownies. The big event, however, is a televised Irish cooking competition to be filmed on site. Unfortunately, someone’s luck has run out. Before the cameras start rolling, tough-as-nails producer Tara O’Hara Moore is found upstairs in her B&B room, a heavy cleaver left by her side. Now, not only does Robbie have a store full of festive decorations, she’s got a restaurant full of suspects . . .
In “Perked Up,” Barb’s novella in Irish Coffee Murder, it’s a snowy St. Patrick’s night in Busman’s Harbor, Maine. When the power goes out, what better way for Julia Snowden to spend the evening than sharing local ghost stories—and Irish coffees—with friends and family? By the time the lights come back, they might even have solved the coldest case in town . . .
Note: graphic by Jennifer McKee.
Welcome Stephanie Graves: Pigeoneers, racing pigeons and a giveaway!
By Liz, happy to welcome Stephanie Graves to the blog! Stephanie’s third book in her Olive Bright Mystery series is out tomorrow, and she’s telling us all about the world of pigeoneers! I love this so much – I have always loved pigeons ever since NYPD Blue and Jimmy Smitts 
Take it away, Stephanie!
First off, I’d like to thank Liz Mugavero and the Wickeds for inviting me! In case you’ve yet to run across my first foray into the mystery genre, let me provide a little background.
The first book in the Olive Bright mystery series, eponymously titled OLIVE BRIGHT, PIGEONEER, introduces a young veterinary student who’s returned home from London at the start of WWII. She’s biding her time in the village of Pipley, helping in her father’s veterinary surgery, caring for her family’s racing pigeons, and generally waiting for an opportunity to present itself for her to do more for the war effort than rolling bandages or knitting socks. It’s not long before she and her pigeons are conscripted to work for a secret intelligence organization codenamed Baker Street.
Pigeons may seem like an unexpected choice. Honestly, I thought so too. When I decided to transition from writing romantic novels to writing mysteries, I knew three things all at once: I wanted to set the story during WWII; my amateur sleuth would be young, female, and British; and she’d be a pigeoneer. Evidently, book one in the series had been fifteen years in the making before the research and writing had even begun.
When my boys were young, I took them to see the animated Disney movie Valiant, which was loosely based on the role homing pigeons played over the course of the Second World War. The very notion that those birds could have carried messages, microphotographs, and other documents critical to the war effort fascinated me. But honestly, the truth—once I began to discover it—was so much more impressive than the fiction.
In writing the series, my research has served as a crash course in all things pigeon. And at this point I can’t help but stare in admiration at random pigeons in the street. What’s so impressive? There’s their ability to home over long distances when released in unfamiliar places, using both their physiology and environmental clues, their stamina and tenacity in maintaining speeds over 60 miles per hour over hundreds of miles, through all sorts of weather. And finally, their long and storied history.
Prior to WWII, they were used as messengers by cultures throughout history: Mongol, Greek, French, German, Egyptian. They were key contributors to the success of Reuters news service and a financial boon to the Rothschild banking dynasty, which capitalized on early news of Napoleon’s defeat. They were used extensively on both sides of the conflict during the Great War, but while Germany maintained their state-run pigeon service in the interwar years, Britain disbanded theirs. Which meant that when war was declared once again, the pigeons were offered up voluntarily. With 70,000 fanciers in Britain, many of whom were breeding and training their birds to participate in long distance pigeon racing—the royal family included—there was a ready supply of winged recruits.
All branches of the British Armed Forces used pigeons during the Second World War; the crews of Royal Air Force bombers and reconnaissance aircraft all included at least one pigeon, and lofts were prevalent in Europe, Africa, and the Middle and Far East. The birds were resilient and dependable throughout the course of the war, and their contribution did not go unnoticed. When the Dickin Medal was instituted to award exemplary wartime service by animals, thirty-two of the fifty-four medals bestowed for service during WWII were given to pigeons.
But tucked away in a tiny village on the home front, Olive and her birds are simply carrying on, doing their bit. And I’m having a blast with both the research and the writing!
So readers – were you aware of the secret, heroic life of pigeons? Tell us in the comments for a change to win a signed, hardcover copy of Olive Bright, Pigeoneer (U.S. only).
Stephanie Graves is the author of the Olive Bright mystery series and four romantic novels written under the pseudonym Alyssa Goodnight. Her books have been featured in Entertainment Weekly, First for Women and Woman’s World. She lives with her family and two rescue pups in Houston. Visit her at msstephgraves.com to subscribe to her newsletter or find her on FB, Twitter, Instagram, or BookBub.
A COURAGE UNDIMMED, the third book in the Olive Bright mystery series, is out tomorrow!
British pigeoneer Olive Bright is proud of the role her racing birds have played in the war effort and has hopes of becoming an agent for the secret intelligence organization called Baker Street . . . but first there is a baffling murder to solve.
As the weather turns bitterly cold in the dark days of November 1941, fewer pigeons are being conscripted for missions into occupied Europe. In fact, Olive’s new commanding officer has expressed his doubts regarding her birds—not to mention Olive herself—and assigned her as escort to a visiting Naval Intelligence officer.
She’s none too keen on her assignment or her charge—the aloof and arrogant Lieutenant Commander Ian Fleming—but the last place she expects to accompany him is to a séance. Self-proclaimed medium Velda Dunbar—new to the village of Pipley—has drawn fascination and skepticism after a very public channeling of a doomed seaman aboard the HMS Bartholomew, which she claims has sunk. When the gathering results in murder, Olive must trust her instincts and not rule out anyone as a suspect—including the secretive Fleming—for one of the guests is harboring a hidden deadly agenda.
January 20, 2023
Beer Cans and Tombstones with Guest Annette Dashofy
Edith/Maddie writing from a chilly north of Boston, but never too cold to welcome Annette Dashofy back to the blog. She has an intriguing new series debuting with Where the Guilty Hide, and a generous giveaway. My copy is ordered and I can’t wait to read it!
Isn’t that a fabulous cover? Here’s the blurb:
Erie City Detective Matthias Honeywell has been investigating a spate of home invasions but when one of the robbery victims turns up dead, his case evolves into homicide. The last thing freelance photographer Emma Anderson expects to capture is a dead body. Emma’s first encounter with Detective Honeywell leaves her shaken when he reminds her of her ex-fiancé-turned-stalker. Matthias misinterprets Emma’s anxiety and suspects she knows more than she’s letting on.
With the threat of another murder, Emma and Matthias must overcome their mutual distrust and work together to capture a killer?
Tombstones and Beer Cans: Where Ideas Come From
As writers, sometimes we go in search of ideas for a new story. Other times the ideas seem to lie in wait for us to find them.
A few years ago, I was taking a stroll through our local cemetery. It’s one of my favorite places to walk and reflect…and come up with story ideas or character names. I had my camera and was seeking out photographic writing prompts, which I’d been posting to my local Sisters in Crime chapter. And wow, did I come across one!
I spotted a relatively new grave marker at the edge of the road. The stone wasn’t decorated with flowers or flags as usual, but with a pair of crushed beer cans.
(Note: Personal details have been covered to protect the privacy of the grieving family.)
If that wasn’t an image begging to have a story created around it, I don’t know what is. Allowing myself a bit of selfishness, I kept this writing prompt for myself!
The idea that came to me first was probably close to the truth, considering the images on the marker. A heartbroken widow shares a beer with her lost love from time to time. Sad and beautiful, but I don’t write that kind of story.
I decided it was a guy thing. A man brings a pair of beers to the grave of his old drinking buddy and best pal. They can no longer sit at a bar and rehash the day, so he must commiserate here, in this lonely place.
The idea became part of Matthias Honeywell’s backstory in Where the Guilty Hide. And it shows up very early in the book.
A nearby sound jarred her from her thoughts. A short, rattling crackle she couldn’t quite identify. She moved toward a large shade tree and the direction from which the sound had come. Easing around the trunk, she realized she was wrong about being alone. Less than twenty feet away, a man sat on the ground in front of one of the granite markers, his back to her. His dark hair renewed the chill and stirred a tsunami-force wave of panic.
Clay had found her. Dear God, he’d found her.
Before she could bolt, her phone rang. The man at the grave turned towards the sound and her, his expression fierce. Even in the fading light, she could tell, other than the hair, he bore no resemblance to Clay.
And after the phone call:
Pocketing the device, she peered around the tree. The man at the grave was gone. Curious, she approached the stone where he’d been sitting. The tombstone was a newer one surrounded by older monuments bearing the same last name. Glossy granite with an inset of a badge. An eagle topped a circle bearing the words Bureau of Police, City of Erie, PA. The carving identified the fallen officer as Nicholas Tucci and his date of death five years ago. Emma did the math. He’d been forty-nine. According to the other engravings, he’d been a beloved husband, father, and grandfather. The ground in front of the stone had been dug up, red and white geraniums planted and recently dead-headed. Less decorative, two crumpled beer cans rested among the flowers.
That was the sound Emma had heard. Aluminum being crushed.
She searched the grounds for the man who’d left them behind, but only the dead and the long shadows cast by the trees remained. She knelt, lifted her camera, and captured several photos of the grave and the beer cans. There was a story here. But she remembered the ferocity of the man’s expression when he realized he wasn’t alone. Somehow, she didn’t think it was a story he wanted to share.
The man Emma sees is, of course, Matthias.
One fateful walk in a cemetery provided an image that stuck with me and became a character, his backstory, and the catalyst of an entire novel.
Readers, have you ever encountered an oddity that made you imagine the circumstances surrounding it? Writers, have you ever had one unexpected moment launch a story idea? I’ll send three commenters a Kindle version of Where the Guilty Hide.
January 19, 2023
Opening Lines
Sometimes the things you see at the beach leave you shaking your head!
Wickeds, caption the below photo.
Jessie: He had been pleasantly surprised when his blind date had suggested a spot of skinny dipping. He would not have been so eager if he knew that his wife had hired her to slip something into his drink at dinner. The last thing he saw before his head slipped beneath the waves was the pair of jeans he bought especially for the date, draped over a bench facing the sea.
Edith/Maddie: I saw that guy slip out of his jeans and race to the water in his tighty-whities, but when I caught sight of the face of the siren in the waves who beckoned to him, I knew he wouldn’t be seen again. She wasn’t a mermaid, she was a swimming serial killer – of men who had wronged her.
Sherry: He was always misplacing his wallet, but this time she had to search for his jeans too.
Barb: I awoke on an unfamiliar couch feeling an unfamiliar breeze blowing across my nether regions. “Uh-oh,” I thought and began to catalog the parts of the evening I remembered.
Liz: It was easier than I imagined to drag his body down the beach to where the tide was coming in. The darkness helped. But I forgot to get rid of his stupid jeans!
Readers, leave your first line below!
January 18, 2023
Wicked Wednesday – Out with the Old…Clothes
Happy Wednesday! We’re still talking about “out with the old” as we make room for new things this year. And there’s nothing I love to purge more than clothes – mostly because that means I usually give myself permission to buy new ones. But we can talk about that later…
Wickeds, how often do you purge your closet? How old is the oldest piece of clothing you own?
Edith/Maddie: I’m overdue for a closet purge, but the oldest item is easy. I have an indigo-dyed Japanese shirt I brought home in 1977 after living in the greater Tokyo area for two years. A friend gave it to me, and by some miracle the shirt still fits. In spring and fall I wear it around the house over a three-quarters sleeve shirt for one more light layer. It’s been much repaired and has only a few buttons left, but why get rid of something I love and can still wear? About cleaning the closet, I think we need to have traveling closet-purging parties. You come over and be ruthless in mine, and I’ll exchange the favor. Any takers?
Julie: I tend to purge once a year, around this time. My sisters call it shopping at Julie’s. Working from home has been tough on my clothes. I have a tough time letting go of work suits, but I really don’t need them as much. The oldest thing I own? Some scarves my grandmother gave me that were hers. A couple of show jackets from the 1980s. I so wish I still had some of my clothes from the 80’s, but alas…
Jessie: I purge my wardrobe fairly frequently, probably quarterly. I am trying to winnow it down to only pieces that I love and love to wear. It isn’t always an easy task, but it is very satisfying once it is done! I would say the oldest piece of clothing I have is a vintage coat that I wear when it rains. I am not sure of the age, but if I had to guess would say the 1960s or 1970s. It has a label from a Boston clothing store I do not recognize sewn onto the lining. It is orange-red, is long with beautiful seaming, and a capacious hood. It is just the thing to lend some cheer to a bleak day!
Sherry: I love the sound of your raincoat, Jessie! I’ve been doing a lot of purging the past couple of years. I swear I think things are growing in my closet because it always seems crowded. I have three shirts from the 70s — two sorority shirts that are tucked away in the basement and a shirt I saved for the daughter I hoped I’d have some day. It’s lime green with a colored rhinestone lightning bolt on it. It’s itchy so I don’t think my daughter ever wore it. I should have kept the acid-washed denim jacket from the late 80s for her.
Barb: I’ve always been good about purging my clothes. Someone told me years ago that there were never enough work-type clothes for larger women in charity shops and that has spurred me on. I have to switch my clothes winter and summer, due to storage issues and that’s when I get rid of stuff. I admit to being at a loss during the pandemic when I’d look at outfits and think, “I haven’t worn this–but then I haven’t been anywhere!” The oldest piece of clothing in my house is probably my great-grandmother’s wedding bloomers, from April 26, 1900.
Liz: I love these answers! I purge A LOT because I buy a lot…but I do have some vintage concert T-shirts – Goo Goo Dolls, which I think is my oldest from sometime in the 2000s, and Stevie Nicks from around that same time.
Readers, how about you? What are your closet-purging habits? Tell us in the comments!
January 17, 2023
Welcome Alexis Morgan: When artwork goes bad
By Liz, excited to welcome Alexis Morgan! She’s talking about how she gets her ideas to keep the murders fresh in her Abby McCree Murders. Take it away, Alexis!
One of the biggest challenges when it comes to writing a cozy mystery is bringing something fresh to the party. Sometimes it’s an unusual location. At other times, it’s coming up with an unexpected twist in the plot, or choosing a murder weapon that hasn’t been done to death (pun sort of intended.) Across the first five books in my Abby McCree Murders series, I’ve done a little of all three of those things.
I have worked hard to vary the locations. In the first book, Abby founds a body buried in her own backyard. In another, the victim dies during a 5K run. In another, the victim is murdered during a movie-in-the-park night in Snowberry Creek, the town where Abby and her friends live.
It’s always fun when it comes to choosing possible suspects for Abby to investigate. Despite her desire to avoid getting embroiled in police business, she can’t simply stand by and watch someone she cares about be accused of murder. Abby will go to extreme lengths to protect her friends and relatives.
When it comes to the weapon used, it has to be something that multiple characters would have been capable using, thereby making them all believable suspects. Having said that, the murder weapon in DEATH BY ARTS AND CRAFTS, the newest book in the series, is my absolute favorite—a fancy garden stake made of twisted wrought iron with a finial at the top encasing a blown glass ball.
I got the idea sitting in a friend’s backyard on a lovely summer day. I was admiring her landscaping and happened to notice several decorative yard stakes on display in and among the plants and bushes. I was immediately struck with the idea that you could really kill someone with one of those! Probably not the reaction most people would have had, but that’s how a writer’s mind sometimes works. 
That one thought quickly gave rise to the central premise of the plot: an artist is found murdered with a piece of his own work at a busy art fair. That meant multiple people would have to have reasons to be mad at the man, and each of them would have to be strong enough to skewer the guy in a fit of temper. After that, Abby would need a reason to get involved, so one of her best friends became one of the suspects.
Once I had my victim, the murder weapon, and the cast of characters all lined up, then it was just a matter of deciding whodunit! And yes, that means sometimes I don’t know that answer until after I’m well into writing the book.
As a mystery reader myself, I’m always trying to figure out who the guilty party is as I read the book. Sometimes I’m right and sometimes the writer manages to really surprise me.
That has me curious—how is your track record for guessing correctly before the author does the big reveal in the story? Readers, let me know in the comments! I’ll pick three random commenters for signed copies of DEATH BY ARTS AND CRAFTS (open to USA only).
Blurb:
When a killer’s handiwork threatens the Snowberry Creek arts community, Abby McCree starts looking for clues in her own murder investigation . . .
As the newest member of the Snowberry Creek City Council, Abby is picked to liaise between the council and the new planning committee for the town’s first ever arts and crafts fair. As far as gigs go, it’s a fun one—Abby’s spending the weekend tooling around Washington State, checking out similar fairs with her two besties, Bridey Roker, and Dayna Fisk.
As Abby spreads the word about Snowberry Creek’s fair, the trip feels like a glittering success. But then, someone is found murdered at one of the events and vendors begin disappearing amid suspicious circumstances. Abby resists getting drawn in until Dayna finds herself at the top of the suspect list. Now, Abby must weave the clues together and clear her friend’s name before the killer claims another victim—maybe even Abby herself . .
Bio:
USA Today bestselling author Alexis Morgan has always loved reading and now spends her days creating worlds filled with strong heroes and gutsy heroines. She is the author of over fifty novels, novellas, and short stories that span a wide variety of genres: American West historicals; paranormal and fantasy romances; cozy mysteries; and contemporary romances. More information about her books can be found on her website.
January 16, 2023
The Heart Grows Fonder
Jessie: In New Hampshire where the weather has been whacky of late.
Lately, I have been giving a lot of thought to transformation. It happens every year at just about this time. The new year and a spate of family birthdays seem to bring it on. What has brought it into sharp relief this year was a trip to a nearby Marshall’s. All my life I have had a list of allergies as long as one of my arms. They range from plants to molds to foods to animals. The animals include dogs. But through a tangled series of events, about four and a half years ago I ended up with a poodle named Sam as my constant companion.
I never really thought of myself as a dog person. Those of you who know me from before Sam swept into my life can attest to that. I still do not like every dog I meet, am still allergic to most of them, and cannot imagine making peace with shedded fur coating my wardrobe or my house. That said, my heart, towards one dog at least, has grown very, very fond. This brings me back to the Marshall’s.
Last week I spotted a black and red sweater on a display rack, a small accessory sort of thing clipped to it by a plastic fastener. My heart sped up in my chest as I realized that the thing was a matching dog sweater. It was as if I was having an out-of-body experience. I watched myself move swiftly through the racks looking for the perfect combination of human and dog sweater sizes. Some were the wrong size for me. All were too small for Sam. I put one in the cart anyway and told myself that it wouldn’t make much difference if the dog sweater didn’t quite reach his rump.
I wandered the store for a bit before heading for the dressing room to try the human garment on for myself. The utter horror of its fit, with its mock turtleneck and dropped shoulders, was enough to bring me back to my senses. I slipped it onto the rack at the entrance to the fitting room without a backward glance.
That being said, when I returned home I headed straight for my knitting stash and pulled out an extra skein of red wool that just happens to match a sweater I finished up for myself last spring. Conveniently enough I had knitted it for the very purpose of wearing it under my coat on the coldest of days to walk Sam. It is warm and lovely and I am quite sure a matching one will look ever so good on my faithful little friend too! Please excuse me while I get back to my knitting!
Readers, have you ever been surprised at something, or someone that you have grown fond of?
