Meg Perry's Blog, page 2

An interview with Pete Ferguson

Let’s pretend that I’m visiting a friend in Hawthorne and decide to take a side trip to Santa Monica…

This takes place a couple of months ago, in March of this year, before the events of Deepfaked to Death, Angeles Investigations #3. (Which, by the way, is coming June 14.)

I pull into the empty parking space behind Pete’s car – Jamie’s parking space – and climb the steps to the deck. Pete is there to greet me with a can of Coke. “I thought you might need some refreshment after your grueling drive from Hawthorne.”

“Ha! You are so right.” I accept the can and take a drink. 

“Is it warm enough out here for you, or do you want to go inside?”

I don’t have to think about my answer. “Is Ammo inside?”

Pete grins. “He sure is.”

He opens the door for me. I’m immediately greeted by Ammo, who sniffs all around me then leans against me while I rub his head and ears. “Hey, buddy, who’s the bestest boy?”

Pete asks, “Is there really any doubt about that?”

“Absolutely not.”

Pete leads me down to the living room. Ammo follows and flops down at my feet as I sit on the loveseat. I ask, “How are you?”

“I’m fine, but I’m interested in why you wanted to talk to just me and not both of us.”

I shrug. “I’ve spent a lot of time with Jamie since Angeles opened. I didn’t want you to think I was neglecting you.”

He laughs. “I don’t feel neglected. I’ve been busy since we got back.”

“Teaching in person again.”

“Yes. Between the psych department and criminal justice, I’m teaching six classes per major semester.”

“But you’re still paid as an adjunct because it’s different departments, I bet.”

“Exactly, not that I care about that.” Pete waves his hand toward the front of the house. “Then there’s gardening, getting settled back in here, trying to see Steve a couple of times a month, going to see Starr every Sunday…”

“How is Starr?”

“Still in rehab, still making slow progress. Her speech is almost back to normal, although she has to think about what she’s going to say before she says it. She’s walking with a walker. I think she’s getting close to discharge, but she’ll have to continue as an outpatient for a while.”

“It’s been a year.”

“I know.” Pete shakes his head. “An eventful one, huh?”

“Seriously. Do you miss New Mexico at all?”

“I miss Meredith. We both do.”

“Sure.”

“You know, I grew up in the desert.” Pete looks slightly wistful. “I miss the way the colors change at sunrise and sunset. I miss being able to watch the sunsets from our front porch.”

“I bet there are things you miss about that house. Like your Aga.”

“Oh, God, I miss the whole kitchen, and that huge pantry I had. All that space…” He sighs. “I miss the office, too, with my own desk and three walls of built-ins. I miss the walk-in closet. I miss the back patio and how cool it would feel even on a summer morning, before the sun came up. I miss our dining table. I miss all the storage we had in that house.”

“You’ll have to build something similar here.”

“Yeah–not soon, though. Where we live right now is way too convenient for both of us.”

“How is Meredith?”

“She’s fine. She and Jesse are still together.”

“Good. Do you think you’ll ever go back to visit?”

“Yeah. When, I don’t know. That’s kind of up to Jamie.”

“Overall, though, are you glad to be back in Santa Monica?”

“Oh, yes. The positives outweigh the negatives. I don’t miss the summers there, when I couldn’t grow anything except peppers because of the heat. I’m glad to be back to our little gardening co-op here.”

“Drew took good care of your place.”

“He sure did.”

“I guess it’s also good to be back in the same city as your psychiatrist.”

“Yes.” He smiles. “I’m only seeing Dr. C once every other month, now, but I’m happy to be able to do it in person rather than over FaceTime.”

“How are you, in terms of mental health?”

He spreads his hands. “Never better. The Wellbutrin is still working its magic, I’m still journaling every day…and honestly, between teaching, gardening, cooking, and keeping up with Ammo’s training, I don’t have time to dwell on the unpleasant past like I used to.”

“Where do you train Ammo these days?”

“I’ve been taking him to various people’s houses and hiding the scent in their backyards. I’ve used Ali and Mel’s place, Elliott and Stewart’s, Aaron’s house in Pasadena, even Ethan and Scott’s. And, of course, about once a month we’re in Oceanside, and we can work with him for several hours down there.”

I lean down to scratch Ammo’s ears and am rewarded with a couple of licks. “He still enjoys it.”

“Yeah. I know he’d like to still be working search and rescue regularly, but at his age, we don’t want to push him that hard.”

“His training came in handy back in the fall, though, when he sniffed out Dean Stokes.”

“Oh, yeah. That body would have lain there a couple more days, at least, until his sister called the cops to demand a wellness check.”

“Do you have any idea what’s happened to Deborah?”

“She’s back in Missouri. Beyond that, I have no idea.”

“Probably for the best.”

“No shit.” He waves his hand in front of his face to clear the air. “Let’s forget about the Stokes family.”

“Agreed. Let’s talk about my plans for you.”

Pete immediately looks alarmed. “You have plans for me?”

“You betcha. First, coming up this summer, you and Kristen are going to get to do a little undercover work.”

“That sounds intriguing.”

“It’s not much, but it’ll contribute to one of Angeles’s cases. Then, about a week later, you get to do a huge undercover job.”

“That sounds time-consuming.”

“It will be. But you’ll enjoy it so much that you won’t care. And it’s going to make Kevin insanely jealous.”

He laughs. “Whaaaat? It’s something that he can’t do?”

“Uh-huh. That’s all I’m saying about it.”

“Okay, then what?”

“Then–I’m not sure when, but probably next spring–you’re going to take a memorable vacation.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

I shake my head. “Sorry, not sorry. That’s all you get.”

“Are we going back to Scotland?”

“Nope. Someplace you’ve never been.”

“Jeez. That could be a lot of places.”

“Don’t think about it too hard. But when you get around to planning that vacation, you’ll remember what I told you.”

“Hmph.”

I laugh. “Don’t worry. All shall be well. And you’ll make some new friends.”

He’s oozing with skepticism. “Ooookay.”

I can’t help snickering. “Sorry.”

He grins. “No, you’re not.”

“True. Do you have any questions for me? That aren’t about you?”

He doesn’t even have to think about it. “Is Jamie going to become a PI?”

“I honestly don’t know. Right now, I doubt it, but that could change. He’s going to have to decide then tell me.”

“Is Kermit Blackwell going to make any trouble for Angeles?”

“No. They haven’t seen the last of him, but he won’t create any problems for them.”

“I’m glad to hear that. He worries me.”

“He should worry a lot of people. But not y’all.”

“Okay, I’ll trust you on that. Regardless of what Jamie decides, will Angeles get another PI soon? They’re going to need one.”

“Soon is a relative term. But by about this time next year they’ll have another one.”

“Someone we know?”

“Yes. But no one you’d ever expect.”

He frowns at that. “Not Jon or Susan?”

“Good grief, no. Jon and Susan are never leaving Homicide Special, unless something unforeseen happens.”

“Huh. Okay.” He leans forward. “Here’s one that everyone in the family is thinking about but no one is talking about. Sarge just turned 100. He can’t live forever.”

“No, he can’t. I’m not sure what my plans are with respect to Sarge. He’s got at least another year. Maybe two.”

Pete relaxes. “That’s good news.”

Ammo rolls over so that he’s laying on both of my feet. Pete chuckles. “You can make him move if you want.”

“No way. I like this. So here’s a tough question for you.”

He raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“What’s changed for you and Jamie as a couple, now that you’re back?”

He thinks about that for a moment. “I have to admit, it’s better here. In New Mexico, Jamie was on edge all the time. He could physically relax when we were at home, but his brain was always working, trying to stay a step ahead of any potential trouble. I would have told you, before we came back, that I was more relaxed than he was. Once we got here, I realized that wasn’t true. I was shoving everything to the back of my mind, but it was still there. My blood pressure is lower here.”

“Even though you were worried about coming back to the city?”

“Even though. That anxiety passed as soon as we were re-settled. The other day we were making a list to walk down to Von’s, and Jamie said, ‘Isn’t it nice to be able to walk to the grocery store?’ We weren’t comfortable doing that in Alamogordo. It took a toll.”

“Sure. So, you and Jamie are copacetic.”

“Oh, yeah. We’re back in our groove. I mean, I still sometimes marvel that he stayed with me through all the shit I dumped on him, but we’re good.”

“I hope that means you’ll never take him for granted.”

“Never. And I hope he’ll never take me for granted.”

“No way. That boy likes to eat too much.”

Pete laughs so hard, he wipes tears. “Oh, God, I know that’s true.”

“What about Steve? Now that you’re both back here, has your relationship changed at all?”

“Not really. I mean, Steve is Steve. He works a lot, and he’s in his element at SpaceX, tinkering with their rocket systems. I don’t see him quite as often. Every other week, compared to every week in New Mexico. But we still text several times a day.” He rolls his eyes. “He sends me dad jokes.”

“Oh, jeez. Is he still seeing the woman in Tucson?”

“Yeah, she comes out about once a month. She’s planning to spend a couple of weeks in the summer, I think.”

“Do you see Samantha very often?”

“At least once a month. Sometimes more, especially if she and Maddy come hiking with us. Same for Colin. He’ll graduate from USC this spring, though, and I’m not sure what job he’ll decide to take. He already has several offers.”

“I bet he does. Do you think he’ll go back to San Diego?”

“Not yet. Emily has two more years until she gets her doctorate in occupational therapy, so I think he’ll stick around here.”

“Sounds like the Brodie-Ferguson clan is in a good space.”

He smiles widely. “Yep.”

I check the time. “I’d better head back to Hawthorne before traffic gets terrible.”

“I don’t want to run you off, but that’s a good idea. Want a Coke for the road?”

“Yes, please.”

We go to the kitchen, where Pete hands me a cold can. I say, “Thank you. Have fun on your undercover assignment this summer.”

“You’re really not going to give me any more hints about that?”

“Nope.”

“Fine.” He grins. “Drive safe. And come back when Jamie’s here.”

“I will.”

He waves as I back out and drive away.

Preorder Hunted to Death today!

Good morning everyone, preorder for Hunted to Death is up! The publication date is 3/15. A word of caution: this is the first book that I was unable to publish through Smashwords. The book is still available for sale through Smashwords here, but the publication is now done at a site called Draft2Digital. The rules aren’t the same there for formatting; as a matter of fact, I couldn’t find any rules. So you may find the formatting wonky for the non-Kindle versions of Hunted to Death. I will try to figure out what I’m doing there by the next book – I ran out of time this time.

If you find it unreadable, let me know, and I’ll make amends.

One thing that D2D provides is a Books2Read link that gives you access to all the non-Kindle versions of the book that are available, including Smashwords. Very handy.

Here’s the link for Amazon. Print is also available at Amazon.

A sniper? In Bel Air?

The peace of wealthy Bel Air is shattered on a Friday night by a rifle shot. Anyone who’s outdoors in the neighborhood hears the shot, including Kevin Brodie and Kristen Beach, but no one knows where the shot came from or the identity of the intended target…until the next day, when Jamie Brodie brings his dog, Ammo, to Kevin’s house. 

Ammo, a trained cadaver dog, drags Jamie and Kevin up the street about a half-mile then alerts on a house. The officers who respond to Kevin’s 911 call find a man lying on his pool deck, shot in the head by a high-caliber round. The victim is identified as 72-year-old Dean Stokes, a tier three registered sex offender who was released from incarceration in Kansas four months before.

The logical assumption is that one of Dean’s victims waited 35 years to get their revenge. Dean’s sister thinks so; she jets in from St. Louis and hires Angeles Investigations to solve Dean’s murder, but she’s withholding information. Why?

When the Angeles team realizes that their answers probably lie in Missouri, they also realize that they’ll need help. Good thing that their administrative assistant, Ryan McKinney, has a cousin in St. Louis who’s a PI.

Hunted to Death cover reveal!

Cover by the super-talented Dianne Thies at Lyrical Lines.

Preorder will be up on Friday 3/1, barring unforeseen circumstances. Pub date 3/15.

A sniper? In Bel Air?

The peace of wealthy Bel Air is shattered on a Friday night by a rifle shot. Anyone who’s outdoors in the neighborhood hears the shot, including Kevin Brodie and Kristen Beach, but no one knows where the shot came from or the identity of the intended target…until the next day, when Jamie Brodie brings his dog, Ammo, to Kevin’s house. 

Ammo, a trained cadaver dog, drags Jamie and Kevin up the street about a half-mile then alerts on a house. The officers who respond to Kevin’s 911 call find a man lying on his pool deck, shot in the head by a high-caliber round. The victim is identified as 72-year-old Dean Stokes, a tier three registered sex offender who was released from incarceration in Kansas four months before.

The logical assumption is that one of Dean’s victims waited 35 years to get their revenge. Dean’s sister thinks so; she jets in from St. Louis and hires Angeles Investigations to solve Dean’s murder, but she’s withholding information. Why?

When the Angeles team realizes that their answers probably lie in Missouri, they also realize that they’ll need help. Good thing that their administrative assistant, Ryan McKinney, has a cousin in St. Louis who’s a PI.

Currently reading…

By Ch. Maderthoner (Own work) [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons

I just returned a stack of books to the public library and came home with another stack. I never talk about my characters going to the library, but I should. Obviously they support libraries – half of them are librarians! Jamie buys a lot of the books he reads, because he likes to have a big home library. But he has limited space in the Santa Monica house, so he has to donate to the public library occasionally.

Anyway! I thought it would be fun to consider what our friends might be reading right now.

Jamie – Department of Death by Lev Raphael

Pete – The Ghost Orchid by Jonathan Kellerman

Kevin – The Tao of the Backup Catcher: Playing Baseball for the Love of the Game by Tim Brown

Kristen – The Social Future of Academic Libraries by Schlak, Corrall and Bracke

Jamilah – Time’s Undoing by Cheryl Head

Anisha – All Bleeding Stops: Life and Death in the Trauma Unit by Stephen M. Cohn

Rob – Vanderbilt: The Rise and Fall of an American Dynasty by Anderson Cooper

Aaron – AI and the Future of Education by Priten Shah

Jon – Japanese Death Poems: Written by Zen Monks and Haiku Poets on the Verge of Death

Liz – Demons of Good and Evil by Kim Harrison

As for me, I just finished From a Far and Lovely Country, the latest No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency by Alexander McCall Smith. Today I’ll start Scattershot: Life, Music, Elton, and Me by Bernie Taupin.

What are you reading?

They’re here…..

Those of you of a certain age may remember seeing the movie Poltergeist in the theater when it was first released. I do. I’m not much for scary movies, but I did enjoy that one. And, of course, “They’re here…” has become sort of a cultural object.

These days, “they” are AI, and they’re definitely here. I’m glad I don’t work in academia anymore. Some instructors are trying to harness it for good. I wish them luck. If I was still teaching, I’d be using Jamie Brodie’s exam method: in-class essays written in blue books. Students, of course, are trying to harness it to write their papers for them. Good instructors will be able to figure out whether that happened, but it takes extra time. 

Of course, AI is shaking up the creative world, too. Witness the SAG-AFTRA strike last year. Even in my little corner of the world, writers are debating whether, when, and how to use it.

First, let me say that everyone has to make their own decisions about this. I am not going to condemn anyone for trying to figure out how AI might help them. I’ve heard various things – using it to improve the readability of a blurb, getting ideas for keywords, using it for writing prompts. I consider that minor stuff, as long as it doesn’t impact anyone else’s livelihood.

Which brings me to my real topic. Audiobooks.

There was a kerfuffle on a writer’s FB page not too long ago when he announced that he was going to use AI to create audiobooks. His argument was that he wanted to provide audiobooks to his readers, and that he’d never be able to pay for a voice actor. Hence, his decision. I don’t think he expected the blowback he got, but he stood his ground. 

That’s his choice to make. And here’s a question – if he’d never be able to hire a human voice actor, is he impacting anyone’s livelihood? If no voice actor would ever have received money from him anyway, does it matter that they’re not going to once he produces AI audiobooks?

I don’t know, but it sounds like a slippery slope to me.

I’m in the same boat as this writer. I don’t make enough money to pay voice actors. Hiring a voice actor to create audiobooks from the Jamie Brodie series alone would bankrupt me. Even if I started now, with the Angeles Investigations series, producing two audiobooks a year would wipe out all my income from writing. And, considering that I’m publishing four books a year right now, that’s totally unsustainable. 

So, am I going to produce audiobooks with AI?

Nope.

I have three reasons for this. First, once you let AI read your book, they have it. They’ve trained on it, and your words can be used to generate other AI stories. Or, gods forbid, a college student’s paper. At least, that’s the way that I understand that it works. And I would bet real money that, somewhere in the fine print, there’s a clause stating that the audio version of my book is now legally theirs. Copyright law is complicated and lawyers are even more expensive than voice actors.

Second, The Zon makes enough money off me right now. I’m not interested in letting them use Audible to make even more.

Third, it feels disloyal. Even though I don’t know any voice actors personally, even though I’ll never be able to hire one, I hear readers’ reactions to actor-read audiobooks. They love ‘em, and they fully support the use of real voice actors. Would anyone even buy an AI-read audiobook of mine? I doubt it.

I personally don’t listen to audiobooks (I get too distracted, lose my spot, have to backtrack) so I don’t fully understand the appeal. I know they’re vital for sight-impaired people. But it is possible to listen to a Kindle book with the appropriate settings on your device. I’ve tried that; the voice is very mechanical. I don’t know how AI sounds, but it’s also a mechanical voice. I doubt that it will ever be able to copy the nuances of a human voice. As a singer, I know how the human voice is produced. If they ever do build a computer program with a fully functional larynx and vocal cords and diaphragm that can’t be distinguished from the real thing, it won’t be in my lifetime.

What do you think about this??

Aging in place

1890. Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons.

For the past few weeks I’ve been raiding my old Pinterest account for photos of people that I think resemble my characters and posting them on my Facebook page. It’s been fun to get other people’s reactions of how they imagined the characters. Sometimes someone will say, “Well, that’s just how I imagined him/her,” but I think it’s because I saw that photo then started describing the person that way.

I made that Pinterest page years ago. The photos haven’t changed, but obviously the characters have. They’re aging in real time, as are we all. When I started writing the Jamie Brodie mysteries, Jamie was 32. Now he’s almost 44. Pete was 37; now he’s pushing 50. In my mind they all look the same as they always have, even though I know they don’t. I guess it’s kind of like the surprise that I get every time I see a photo of myself taken recently and realize that old woman is me. Ha!

One of the things I have to keep in mind, as a writer and as the guardian of all my characters, is that they are getting older. They’re having to work harder to stay in shape. They have to be more careful about what they eat. Kevin’s probably going to need arthroscopic surgery on that other knee before long. They should probably start thinking about bucket lists. (That gives me an idea…)

Are my characters aging in your mind? Or do you still think of them as the thirtysomethings that you originally met?

(P.S. I’ve never found a photo that, to me, accurately depicts Jamie. I’d know him if he walked in the room, but no one else looks much like him that I’ve found IRL. I think I need a police sketch artist to draw him. )

A review and a plan

ليلي جبريل, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons

So long, 2023. As years go, on a planetary scale, you left a few things to be desired.

However! The Stoic philosophers say that we should only worry about the things that are under our control. Or something like that. And when it came to the things that I could control, it was a decent year.

I started the year intending to publish four books, and that’s what happened. Two series ended, with Enchanted to Death, Jamie Brodie #23, and Accessory to Death, Kevin Brodie #3. One series hit the pause button, with Two Hundred Bones, Space Coast #3. And one series began, with Cheated to Death, Angeles Investigations #1.

On a personal level, I was finally able to complete a much-needed remodel of my kitchen. It is fabulous.

I LOVE IT

And, importantly, our area was spared from hurricanes this year. Since we had two in 2022, it was nice to have a break. The repairs from Ian and Nicole are still ongoing.

So, here comes 2024! Strap on your crash helmets…

My plan is for four more books this year. These will all be Angeles Investigations books. First up is Hunted to Death, Angeles #2, coming in March. June will bring Deepfaked to Death, Angeles #3. Then in September you’ll have Disappeared to Death, Angeles #4. (That’s the book that I wrote the first 50K of during NaNoWriMo.) December’s book will be Stolen to Death, Angeles #5. (The title is semi-tentative.)

I hope to “compete” in NaNoWriMo again next year. It’s like throwing words at a wall. Not all of them will stick, but it’s a great way to get a first draft written.

Next year will be a travel year – two and a half weeks in England in the spring, the Grandfather Mountain (North Carolina) Highland Games in July, a major-year high school reunion the week after that, and – I hope – Los Angeles in the fall, to visit friends and scout out more locations.

One more thing, that was true in 2023 and that I know will continue in 2024: I am filled with gratitude for all of you who love the Brodieverse and continue to hang in there with me and my imaginary friends. I appreciate y’all more than I can say.

Happy New Year!

It’s release day!

Happy birthday, Angeles Investigations!! I’m so excited about the plans I have for this little PI agency. I hope you will be, too, once you read Cheated to Death.

For those of you who are print book fans, this one is also available in paperback format.

Buy links are in the Angeles Investigations tab at the top of the page.

Thank you all for being so loyal to the Brodieverse.

Cheated to Death, Angeles Investigations #1

Homecoming

Here’s one more transitional short story to tide you over while you wait for Cheated to Death, Angeles Investigations #1, to be released in one week. Have you preordered yet? Links are in the Angeles Investigations tab at the top of the page.

After all, we haven’t gotten Jamie and Pete back to Santa Monica. Until now.

Saturday, July 1

We left Alamogordo at five in the morning on Saturday, trying to beat the heat of the day. Pete drove the CR-V, with Ammo; I drove the Jeep. Both cars were loaded, even though we’d sent most of our stuff ahead via UPS. Meredith, stalwart soul that she was, got up to see us off. She hugged us both tightly. “Drive safe. Text me when you get to the ranch.”

Pete said, “We will.”

She smiled at me sadly. “I’m happy for you two that you’re going home, but I hate that it’s going to be so long before I see you again.”

I said, “You have to come for a visit. Bring Jesse.”

“We’d love that.” She hugged me again. “Thanks for everything.”

“Thank you.”

Pete said, “We’ll talk to you in a few days.”

“Okay.” She leaned into the car to kiss Ammo on the head. “You be a good boy.”

I said, “Always.”

We stopped about every hour to stretch our legs and Ammo’s, but still made it to Tucson in good time. A few minutes before noon, we were pulling into the driveway of the ranch house belonging to Pete’s sister, Christine, and her husband, Andy Fernandez. We drove around to the back of the house and parked. Ammo peed on a boulder, then we lifted our overnight bags from the back of the Jeep and met Chris on the porch where she waited for us. 

She hugged us both. “Good drive?”

I said, “Yeah. Traffic wasn’t bad.”

Pete asked, “Are the guest houses full?”

“Yes. I’ll never understand people who want to vacation in the desert in the summer, but I’m glad they do. Although we’re starting to think about shutting down in both July and August next year.” The ranch already closed for a month in August due to the heat. “Anyway, come on in. You’re in the room at the top of the stairs.”

We spent most of the rest of the day in the kitchen. Pete insisted on cooking dinner for the family, and Chris didn’t argue. Mid-afternoon, Chris and Andy’s older daughter, our niece Stephanie, stopped by. She was in a nursing Ph.D. program at the University of Arizona – which Pete and I were paying for – and regaled us with tales about her weirder classmates. 

The entire family gathered for dinner around the wooden trestle table in the kitchen, and we had a wonderful visit. I would have loved to talk well into the evening, but Pete and I wanted to start early again in the morning. We said goodnight at about 8:30 and reluctantly went to bed.

Sunday, July 2

We repeated our early morning performance on Sunday, merging onto the 10 by five. An hour later, we turned west onto the 8, and I felt a weight lift from my shoulders that I hadn’t even realized was there. As far as I was concerned right now, the 8 had one reason to exist: to get me home to San Diego.

The freeway fulfilled its duty to me. By 11:30, we were leaving the 8 for the 5, headed north to Oceanside. Forty-five minutes later, we pulled into my dad’s driveway.

Just as Chris had, Dad greeted us on the porch. He hugged us and rubbed Ammo’s ears. “Are you hungry?”

Pete laughed. “When have you known your youngest to not be hungry?”

“Fair point.” 

I said, “Hey! I can hear you, you know.”

My dad grinned. “Come on in. I’ll make BLTs.”

We spent the day on the back porch with Dad and Claudia, watching Val’s horses and talking about nothing in particular. That evening, we walked over to Jeff and Val’s for Pete’s birthday dinner, one day early. Gabe was home from Davis for a brief visit, and updated us on his exploits. We ate fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and corn on the cob, with carrot cake for dessert. 

That night, Pete and I were in bed, in Dad’s front guest room. It was late, but neither of us was sleepy. Pete asked, “What are you thinking?”

“It doesn’t feel real yet.”

“How so?”

“It’s hard to describe. In my mind, I’m sort of expecting to go back to Alamogordo next week, even though I know that won’t happen.” I turned my head to look at him. “What are you thinking?”

“It’s hard to describe.”

I poked him in the ribs. “That’s my line.”

He chuckled then said, “It’s almost like an out-of-body experience. I’m watching us travel, eat, interact with our families, but it kinda feels like I’m seeing it on film, or through someone else’s eyes.”

“Yes. That’s a much better explanation. It’s surreal.”

He squeezed my hand. “We’re leaving a lot of trauma behind us. It’s normal to feel disoriented. You described it once as being released from prison. Even though I protested at the time, I suspect it’s similar.”

“Let’s plan to never go through anything like this again.”

“Agreed.”

Monday, July 3

In spite of our lack of sleep, we got up early. Jeff, Val, and Gabe came for breakfast, and Dad made blueberry pancakes. We said “see you soon” to everyone, loaded Ammo into the car, and headed north.

We were home by eleven. I pulled the Jeep into our first parking space, under the deck, and Pete parked behind me. We let Ammo pee against the concrete wall that divided our alley from the property on the other side, then climbed the stairs to the deck and unlocked the back door. Pete unleashed Ammo while I punched the code to silence the security system. He put water down for Ammo then followed me to the living room, where I was surveying the stacks of boxes that had been delivered on Friday. Drew Jemison, our next-door neighbor, had overseen their arrival.

Pete came to stand beside me and draped his arm around my shoulders. “We have a lot to do before Wednesday.”

On Wednesday, the future staff of Angeles Investigations – Rob Jones, Jamilah Daly, my brother Kevin, and I – were meeting at our new office building in Brentwood to make plans and see what else needed to be done before we opened on August first. Kevin was in North Carolina visiting our relatives; he’d be joining by FaceTime. I said, “We don’t have to do it all by Wednesday.”

“Yeah, but I know you. These boxes will be unloaded and broken down and their contents put away by the end of the day tomorrow.” He hugged my shoulders then let go. “Did you text everyone to let them know we’re here?”

“Oh. No, let me do that.” I pulled out my phone and sent a group text to Dad, Jeff, Val, Kevin, Kristen, Rob, Jamilah, Christine, Meredith, Pete’s brother Steve, our neighbors Drew and Holly, and Ali and Mel. 

The Eagles Have Landed.

My phone immediately blew up with acknowledgements. Ali’s said, Happy anniversary! See you tomorrow at four?

I replied, Thanks! See you then. Ali and Mel were hosting a Fourth of July party. 

Pete had gone to the kitchen and was rummaging around. “Steve didn’t leave much.”

Steve had been living here for the past month while he chose, then bought, a condo closer to Hawthorne and SpaceX, where he was now working. He’d moved over the weekend to a two-bedroom in Redondo Beach. I said, “You told him he could take what he wanted.”

“I know. I didn’t know he’d want nearly everything.”

“We’ll go to Ralph’s tomorrow morning.” Ralph’s was one of our local grocery store chains.

“Right. Want a Coke?”

“Sure.” 

Pete pulled two Cokes from the fridge and we carried them to the front patio. The jasmine that wound through the wrought iron fence was blooming, and the vegetable gardens that Drew had been tending were bursting with tomatoes, peppers, onions, and herbs. I said, “Looks like you’ll be making salsa this year.”

“Absolutely.” Pete popped the top on his Coke and took a drink. “I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?”

“Cars.”

“What about ‘em?”

“Now that we’re back here for good, don’t you think it’s time to go electric?”

“Ah.” We’d discussed electric cars before. In New Mexico, it hadn’t been practical; there was very little infrastructure to support EVs in our part of the state. “I’m not buying a Tesla.”

“Of course not. There are plenty of other options now.” Pete pulled out his phone and started tapping on the screen, then handed it to me. “Look at that.”

I looked. “It’s a VW!”

Pete grinned. “Yup. Your car ownership can come full circle.”

My first car, when I’d returned to the U.S. from England after grad school, was a VW Bug. I’d loved that car and had driven it until it died. Pete had owned an old Jeep Cherokee at the time; we wore that one out, too. Our current cars were trouble-free, but they were several years old. And gas was far more expensive in California than in New Mexico.

The car on the screen was a VW ID.4, an electric SUV. I said, “Ooh! Nice.”

“Very.”

“Built in Tennessee.”

“Yup.”

“We’ll have to get a charger installed outside.”

“Two chargers. I might as well get one, too.”

“Oh. Do you want to get rid of the Jeep?”

Pete shrugged. “It’s not very practical. Or efficient.”

“True.” I read through the specs. “Are they in stock?”

“I doubt it. After we go to Ralph’s tomorrow, we can visit the VW dealer and find out.”

I handed Pete’s phone back to him. “Now we can’t go back to New Mexico. There’s no place to charge the cars.”

He gave me a look. “We could have chargers installed there.”

“Or not.”

He chuckled. “Or not. Yet. Where do you want to eat dinner?”

“Chandni.” The Indian restaurant that was just around the corner from our house.

“Perfect.” He sighed deeply. “It’s good to be home.”

“It sure is. Happy birthday.”

He reached out for my hand. “Happy anniversary.”

I squeezed his hand then raised my legs and tapped my heels together. “There’s no place like home…”

He laughed. “First chance we get, let’s hike up to Eagle Rock.” Where Pete proposed, and where we got married.

“Wednesday, after our meeting.”

“Perfect.”

A siren whooped, then a Santa Monica PD cruiser sped by, lights flashing. I said, “Welcome home.”

Pete held up his Coke can. “Here’s to LA.”

I clicked my can against his. “Here’s to home.”

Preorder is ready for Cheated to Death!

Preorder for the first Angeles Investigations Mystery is up now. Publication date is in two weeks, 12/15/23. Print should be ready by then, if that’s what you’re into.

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