Meg Perry's Blog, page 20

Staff Sgt. Ammo, part 2

Saturday, December 19

On Saturday morning we finished packing, loaded the Jeep and drove to Oceanside. We were spending one night, then would drive to Tucson, to Pete’s sister’s ranch, on Sunday. We’d be back at Dad’s late Christmas Day.

When we walked onto Dad’s front porch, we heard a deep “woof” from the other side of the door. I heard Dad say something muffled, then he opened the front door, leaving the screened wrought-iron gate closed. “Hey, guys. Say hello to Ammo.”

Ammo was beautiful, a classic, stocky, English Lab. He approached the door, tail wagging. I squatted down and put my hand on the screen; he sniffed it then licked it.

I grinned. “Hi, Ammo. Aren’t you a handsome boy?”

Pete followed my suit and got an even more enthusiastic lick from Ammo through the screen. Dad said, “I think he approves.”

He unlatched the door and we went inside. Dad said, “Ammo, sit.”

Ammo sat while we carried our bags to the bedroom. Dad poured iced tea and we gathered around the kitchen table. Ammo sat beside Pete and rested his head on Pete’s knee.

I laughed. “Oh, boy, are you in trouble now.”

Dad said, “He knows who the cook is.”

Pete grinned. “Ammo, I have something for you.” He’d brought the Unleashed bag; he opened it and handed Ammo the rope bone.

Ammo’s tail expressed his joy. He accepted the bone and vigorously shook it a couple of times, then retreated to a bed in the corner of the kitchen and began to chew.

Dad said, “So. What do you think?”

Pete said, “We haven’t come up with a reason not to take him yet.”

I said, “Pete’s already decided.”

Pete rolled his eyes. “No, I haven’t. We’re still talking about it.”

Dad said, “When you’re gone over the holidays like this, you can leave him here.”

Pete said, “In spite of Barb’s objections?”

Dad sighed. “I hate to say it, but I’ll be surprised if we’re still seeing each other by this time next year.”

I asked, “Then why don’t you just keep Ammo?”

“I’m not ready to pull the plug. I told you, she doesn’t think anything’s wrong yet. Besides, she’s extremely excited about going to Tyler’s wedding. She talked to him for quite a while at your reception.”

I pointed out, “You said Barb didn’t mind being around Jeff’s dogs for short periods. She’s not living with you, so she would only be with Ammo for shortish periods. I’m still not entirely clear on why you aren’t keeping him.”

Dad said shortly, “She asked me not to.”

Pete and I looked at each other. I said, “Oh.”

Pete said, “Not to play psychologist with you, Dave, but you’re making a sacrifice here. A pretty big sacrifice, if you’d rather keep Ammo. What’s she sacrificing for you?”

Dad sighed. “Not a thing.”

We were quiet for a minute. Pete and I looked at each other, then at Ammo, who was happily gnawing on the rope bone’s thick knot. I said, “We have six more days to decide, right?”

Dad said, “Right. He’s not going anywhere until then.”

 

Mid-afternoon we drove to Jeff’s to switch cars. We didn’t trust the 17-year-old Jeep to make the trip to Tucson, and Jeff had two new CR-Vs, one for him and one for Val. When we got to the house Ralphie, and Jeff’s border collie, Phoebe, bounded up then stopped, their joyful welcome interrupted by the enticing scent of another dog. They sniffed all over our pants legs as we tried to get into the house.

The original Ralphie. My towel-stealing, phone book-shredding, 98-pound cuddlebug. 1996-2012.

Val opened the door for us, laughing. “Getting the doggie third degree, I see.”

“Haven’t they met Ammo?”

“Only once. Come on in.”

Gabe, Colin and Jeff were sprawled in the family room, watching the original Ghostbusters. I said, “Hey, guys.”

At least the boys both looked up. Gabe said, “Hi, Uncle Jamie.” Colin just waved.

Jeff got to his feet and joined us in the kitchen. I said, “Ah, for the days when Gabe would jump into my arms when I walked through the door.”

“Tell me about it.” Jeff opened the fridge. “Beer?”

We accepted a bottle and sat at the table. I said, “We met Ammo. Dad says he’s healthy.”

“Completely. His hips are good, everything’s fine. Have you decided to take him?”

“Not yet. We’re discussing it.”

Pete said, “So far we haven’t thought of a reason not to.”

Val put a couple of loaves of bread into the oven and joined us. “Can you believe Barb asked Dave not to keep him?”

I said, “I can believe that she asked him more than I can believe he agreed to give him up.”

Val and Jeff exchanged a look. Val said, “I asked him why he didn’t just break up with her.”

Pete said, “So did we. He says he’s got to build a case.”

I said, “I guess I haven’t been paying attention. I didn’t realize they were having problems.”

Jeff said, “I wouldn’t say they’re problems, exactly. Dad’s bored. I’m not sure that Barb realizes that.”

Val said, “She’s not the most insightful person I’ve ever met.”

 

 

Dad had been keeping Ammo’s primary bed in his own room. For tonight, he moved the kitchen bed into the guest room. When we went to bed, Ammo followed us into the room and settled onto his bed with a sigh.

I said, “Where would we put his bed in our room?”

“Hm.” Pete considered that for a minute. “Beside the door to the deck, I guess. There’s not another good place.”

“Would we let him on the furniture?”

“I’d rather not, if we can keep him off of it.”

I said, “I think he’ll stay off if we tell him to.”

Pete chuckled. “As you said on Wednesday – you hope.”

“Yeah, I know.” I got into bed and looked at Ammo, already snoozing. He looked like he belonged.

Pete climbed into bed. “Do you think your dad is hesitating to break up with Barb only out of fairness and having to build a case?”

“I’m sure that’s part of it.” I rubbed my face. “But – as much as I don’t like to think about the fact that my dad has a sex life, I bet that’s the primary reason for his reluctance. He went through a long dry spell before he met her.”

“You think they’re sexually compatible?”

“I think that and inertia is what’s holding them together.”

“Well.” Pete slid down under the covers. “Inertia won’t last forever.”

 

Sunday, December 20

The next morning we said goodbye to Dad and Ammo at 6:00 and headed east. I drove while Pete read Labs for Dummies. Once he laughed, and I said, “What?”

“This cartoon. You’ll have to look at it later.” He closed the book and slid it into the door pocket. “How many Labs did you have, growing up?”

“Three. Not at the same time. Mom and Dad had a black Lab when we were all born. He lived until I was six. We got another black one when I was about ten, and a yellow one when I was fifteen.” I smiled, remembering. “He was named Charger, but he was the laziest Lab I’ve ever seen.”

“Did he live a long time? I seem to remember hearing that name.”

“Yeah. Dad still had him when I met you. He lived to be fourteen.”

“So you’ve had plenty of experience with Labs.”

“And with military dogs. We had a couple of German shepherds along the way that were retired Marines.”

Pete took a sip of his coffee and made a face. “Ugh. Cold. It occurs to me, except for deciding how to use the inheritance money, this is our first big decision since we’ve been married.”

“True.”

“And it’s playing out like most of our decisions do.”

I glanced at him. “How so?”

“I’m ready to jump in, and you’re the hesitant one.”

“When have we done that?”

“I fell in love with you faster. I wanted to move in together immediately and you were not thrilled with the idea.”

“It grew on me.”

“Uh huh. When you got the money, I said we could move to Scotland. You said, ‘How about New Mexico?’”

I laughed.

“You’re the more deliberate decision maker. You make your lists of pros and cons.” Pete smiled. “I go with my gut – which, I have to say, has not always worked out for me.”

I said, “It did with me.”

He patted my knee. “Luckiest gut decision ever.”

 

We got to the ranch shortly after noon. We carried gifts into the house and gathered around the dining room table, where Chris had lunch ready. As we ate, Pete told his family about Ammo.

Samantha, who was planning to attend UCLA in a year and a half, was excited. “I’ll be able to come over and play with him.”

Chris said, “When you’re driving here, you could certainly bring him with you. It’s been a while since we’ve had a dog.”

I said, “I’m surprised you don’t.”

Andy frowned. “When we started the guest house business, we had two elderly pit bulls. We lost a couple of bookings because of it. Once the dogs had passed on, we decided not to get another one.”

Chris said, “Any guest that objects to a Lab probably shouldn’t vacation at a ranch.”

 

Monday, December 21

We spent Monday hanging out with Pete’s dad. Pete took him grocery shopping then cooked a pot of vegetarian chili and froze portions for Jack’s meals. We told Jack about the dog, and he told stories of dogs he’d had growing up.

We saw Jack every couple of months, and he didn’t seem to be growing stronger, as we’d all expected after his heart attack. He wasn’t getting worse anymore, but had plateaued at a much lower level of cardiac fitness than his doctors had predicted. Pete was concerned, but I knew Chris and the girls were keeping as close watch as possible over Jack and his health.

We were on Jack’s back porch after lunch, the afternoon sun warm enough if we wore sweatshirts. I brought a pen and Pete’s copy of Labs for Dummies with me. Pete said, “What are you up to?”

“Making my list of pros and cons.” I turned to the first chapter. “They’re not terrific guard dogs.”

“We don’t need a guard dog. Besides, he barked when we walked onto Dave’s porch. He might be better than you think.”

“We have no yard.”

“We have a dog park. And he can swim at Kristen’s.”

“Have you asked Kristen about that?”

“She won’t mind.”

“Uh huh.” I flipped through the pages. “We live in a very small house.”

“So does your dad. You had two or three dogs at a time growing up, right?”

“Yeah… Labs are shedding machines.”

“We’ll brush him outside every day. And you enjoy vacuuming.”

“With a dog, you have to go outside regardless of weather. If it’s bucketing down rain, the dog still has to go out.”

Pete gave me a look. “Bucketing down rain? In LA? Once this El Nino dissipates, how often will buckets of rain happen?”

“Someone will have to brush his teeth.”

“Um…”

Jack laughed. “I reckon you can find one of those YouTube videos to teach you how to do that, Pete.”

Now it was my turn to laugh. “What an excellent idea.”

Pete rolled his eyes. “Look at all those chapters about issues that are already solved for us. We already have an excellent vet.”

“We’ll have to find a local vet for emergencies.”

“I’m sure Jeff can recommend someone. Ammo’s already fully trained.”

“He’ll need daily reinforcement.”

“He’ll get it. And, we can afford him.”

I couldn’t argue with that. “You’ve already decided.”

Pete sighed. “If we put it to a vote right now, I’d say yes. But the vote has to be unanimous.”

Jack said, “Sounds like you’ve got all the angles worked out.”

I gave him a mock frown. “You’re not helping, Jack.”

He and Pete both just grinned at me.

Staff Sgt. Ammo, part 1

Wednesday, December 16, 2015

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear Dad, happy birthday to yooooouuuuuu!”

At the other end of the line, my dad laughed. “Why, thank you. You two should take your act on the road.”

Pete chuckled. I said, “We could do singing telegrams. Spread the joy. What are you doing this evening?”

“Val’s making dinner.”

“Barb’s not making dinner?”

Dad made a small sound that I couldn’t entirely interpret. “Barb doesn’t make dinner.”

Pete said, “She could take you out to dinner.”

“She could. She’s not.”

Pete and I gave each other a “yikes” look. I said, “Um – sounds like all is not well in Lake Wobegon.”

Dad sighed. “It’s – I think we’ve run out of things to talk about.”

Pete said, “You don’t have much in common.”

“No. As time has gone on that’s become more clear. As a matter of fact…” He cleared his throat. “Do you guys want a dog?”

We looked at each other again, this time in alarm. I said, “Uh – what?”

“As of two days ago I have a foster dog, and I need to find a home for him. Jeff says he could probably find someone, but this is a very special dog. I’d rather keep him in the family. Kevin’s limited to 50 pounds.”

Pete said slowly, “The dog is over 50 pounds.”

I asked, “How far over 50 pounds?”

“He weighs 87.”

I said, “Holy crap. What is he?”

“He’s a Lab. A yellow Lab.”

Pete and I had talked about having a dog. At the time, I’d said that I didn’t want to have a Lab in our 960-square-foot townhouse. So, of course, the first dog that came along would be a Lab.

Pete said, “Can’t Jeff and Val take him? He’d be a buddy for Ralphie.”

“No. He needs to be an only dog.”

I asked, “Why is he special? And how did you end up with him?”

By soldiersmediacenter (Flickr) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

“He’s a Marine. Staff Sergeant Ammo. He was a bomb-detection dog at the base – he never saw combat. His handler decided he wanted out of the bomb business, so they tried to train Ammo to work with someone else – and failed. He wouldn’t obey the commands for anyone new. They tried three different handlers. So they decided to retire him, and his previous handler couldn’t take him because his kid’s developed allergies. The Pendleton vet didn’t want to turn him over to the company that adopts out the retired dogs, so he called Jeff, and Jeff called me.”

Pete said, “So he won’t obey commands?”

“He obeys regular commands just fine. Sit, stay, come, shake, roll over, the whole pet dog repertoire. He just won’t work.”

I said, “I guess he wanted out of the bomb business too.”

Pete asked, “You have him now?”

“Yeah. He’s right here.” Dad’s voice sounded farther away; he must have moved the phone from his ear. “Ammo, speak.”

We heard a deep, sharp bark. A big dog’s bark. Dad said, “Good boy.”

I said, “How old is he?”

“Three. You’ll have many years of companionship. Jeff looked him over already and he’s in excellent health.”

I said, “And what does this have to do with Barb?”

Dad sighed. “That’s why I can’t keep him myself. Barb doesn’t like dogs.”

“What??”

“Exactly. I did not know this. I said, ‘What about all the time we’ve spent at Jeff and Val’s with their dogs?’ She said, ‘For short periods they’re fine, but I wouldn’t want one in the house.’”

Pete said, “Weeeelll… If you’re looking for a reason to end it with her, this could be it.”

“No. I’m not breaking up with a woman over a dog that I just got. That’s not fair.”

Pete and I looked at each other. I knew we were thinking the same thing. Pete said, “So you think your relationship is dwindling away, and I get the sense you’d like to keep Ammo – why prolong the inevitable?”

Dad sighed. “It’s complicated.”

I said, “Isn’t it always?”

“I suppose. The thing is, I’m pretty sure that Barb doesn’t think we’re dwindling away. She seems happy as ever, other than continuing to throw hints that she’d like to move in here.”

I nearly yelped. “She still wants to move in?”

“She keeps mentioning how convenient it would be. I’ve told her several times why that’s not going to happen, and she seems to think I’ll wear down if she repeats it enough.”

Pete laughed. “She doesn’t know you very well.”

“No, I don’t think she does. Anyway. I’m going to have to be the one to break up, when the time comes. I can’t just spring it on her suddenly. I’ve got to build my case. Ammo is the cornerstone of my case.”

I said, “Suppose we do take him – we’ll be bringing him to visit. Is that going to bother her?”

“Possibly. If so, tough.”

Pete asked, “Why does he need to be an only dog? Does he not get along with other dogs?”

“It’s not that. The Pendleton vet said that he’s used to being an only dog. These guys are trained to work with people. They’re not as well socialized to other dogs.”

I looked at Pete; he shrugged. I said, “We have to talk about this.”

“Sure. You’ll be here Saturday, right? You can meet him, then think about it while you’re in Arizona. When you come back through, if you’ve decided to take him, he can go home with you.”

I said, “Okay. See you Saturday.”

We hung up and I flopped back against the sofa cushions. “An 87-pound Lab.”

Pete grinned. “And you said you weren’t having a Lab in this house.”

I shot a look at him. “You’re the one who will be home with him more. What do you think?”

“I think that a military-trained Lab is very different from a Lab like Ralphie that’s been raised with kids and other dogs. Ammo will do what we tell him. He’s not going to chew the furniture.”

“You hope. He’ll need lots of exercise.”

Pete picked up my phone and did a quick search. “There’s an off-leash dog park by the airport. We can take him over there to play fetch.”

“Labs shed a lot.”

“We’ll vacuum more often.”

“We, kemo sabe?”

Pete laughed. “Cleaning relaxes you. You’ll be so relaxed…”

“We have to consider travel. We’re gone one weekend a month, and next summer we’re all going to DC for two weeks. Who will he stay with?”

“For the weekends, we could see if Kevin and Kristen would stay at Kristen’s house and keep him. For the two weeks next summer, Ali and Mel might be willing to dog-sit. Mel could probably take him to work with her.”

I said, “You’ve already decided.”

“No, I’m just pointing out that your objections can be overcome.” He patted my knee. “Think about it. We’d get an exquisitely well-trained young adult purebred dog, free. That should appeal to your sense of frugality.”

I had to laugh. “It does.”

He slapped my knee again and stood up. “We have two weeks before we’d bring him home. Plenty of time to mull it over.”

I said, “Barb doesn’t like dogs or baseball. And her favorite hobby is shopping.”

“Sounds like a doomed relationship to me.” Pete went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. “They started seeing each other because of Colin and Gabe.”

Dad and Barb met in the summer of 2013, when Dad was taking Gabe to the public library summer reading program. Barb began helping Colin with his school work shortly thereafter. “Yeah. And this is Colin’s last semester of homeschooling. Colin won’t need Barb once he starts high school in the fall.”

“No.” Pete was getting dishes out of the cabinet. “Dinner’s ready.”

 

Thursday, December 17

The next morning at work I told Liz about Ammo. She said, “He sounds great. If there was a weekend when Kevin and Kristen couldn’t keep him, Jon and I could stay at your place with him. Jon loves dogs.”

I said, “You guys should have one.”

“Nah. We’re limited to twenty pounds, and I can’t stand toy dogs. Jon’s mother has Pomeranians. Nasty, yappy little bastards. So, are you going to keep him?”

“We’re still deciding.”

Liz nodded knowingly. “You’re keeping him.” Her phone rang, and I recognized the ringtone. “Back in the Saddle Again.” Jon.

She answered, “Hey, cowboy. Nah, just talking to Jamie. What’s up?” Her face grew serious. “Oh. Um – you can’t really say no, can you? Yeah, I know.” Big sigh. “Okay, sure. See ya.” She hung up and said, “Well, fuck.”

“What?”

“Jon’s got a must-attend Christmas party tomorrow night. I hate Christmas party season. I spend my entire evening watching him to make sure he’s not drinking too much.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize that was still a problem.”

“He drinks when the job is stressful, or when he thinks the job is about to become stressful, which it often does around the holidays when people tend to kill each other. And he and Kevin are on duty all next week.”

“Ugh. Who’s giving the party, that he can’t miss it?”

“His first captain is a midlevel manager at headquarters now, and he’s invited us. It wouldn’t be a good career move to say no.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Jon’s thinking of making a career move?”

Liz shrugged. “Not now, but he knows Kevin won’t stay with the force forever, now that you guys have the inheritance. He’s trying to think ahead.”

“Does he want to stay on the job?”

“He’s open to alternatives, but he hasn’t come up with one that he likes yet.” Liz checked her watch. “Speaking of Christmas parties, the political science department is having a brunch get-together in fifteen minutes. I’d better scoot.”

I said, “Are you violating any of your Buddhist principles by attending these Christmas parties?”

She laughed. “No, you’re confusing us with the Jehovah’s Witnesses. See you at reference.”

 

There wasn’t much point in staffing the reference desk the day before the quarter ended, as we had no business at all. Plenty of time to chit-chat. Liz was regaling me with tales of the weirder members of the political science department when Clinton made his regular appearance at 1:30.

Liz said, “Hi, Clinton.”

“Dr. Brodie, Ms. Nguyen. This will be my last visit with you until the new year. I am departing this evening for my brother’s home in Nevada.”

I said, “Safe travels.”

“Thank you. The word of the day is kyon.” He bowed. “A blessed holiday season to you both.”

Liz said, “Thank you, Clinton.”

Clinton walked away. I looked up the word and began to laugh. “Kyon is the Old Greek word for dog.”

Liz poked me in the shoulder. “See? Clinton has approved. Ammo is yours.”

“Yeah, sure.” But I wasn’t sure. Not yet.

 

When I got home there was a bag from Unleashed sitting on the sofa. Pete was rattling around in the kitchen. I carried the bag upstairs and set it on the counter. “Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Nah. I didn’t get much. If we do bring him home, I want to be prepared.”

I dug into the bag and found a copy of Labrador Retrievers for Dummies, a large braided rope bone, and a box of healthy dog treats. I said, “I don’t think you’ll have to bribe him to like you.”

“Those aren’t bribes, they’re goodwill gestures. And I’ll read the book while we’re in Arizona. I know you grew up with big dogs, but I’ve never had a pet of any kind. I have to educate myself.”

“It sounds like you’ve decided already.”

“No, I haven’t. But I thought more about it today, and couldn’t think of a reason not to take him.” Pete handed me a filled plate.

I had to admit… “I haven’t thought of a reason, either.”

Coming tomorrow: A new short story!

Beginning tomorrow, a new short story will debut here on the blog. It’s a three-parter, called Staff Sgt. Ammo. It takes place over the Christmas holiday of 2015.

Stay tuned! I hope you enjoy it.

Public domain photo

Talked to Death is now on Smashwords!

If you’re one of my readers who buys through Smashwords, Talked to Death (along with the stories Hearts and Best Men) is now available for preorder through the Smashwords site. Here’s the link: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/621279

The release date is April 1. No fooling! :D

Jamie Brodie Mystery #9

My first author table!

I’m going to have an author table at the Florida Library Association Annual Conference this week! The conference is taking place at the Daytona Beach Resort and Spa. I’ll be there on Tuesday, March 1, from 1:00-3:00 pm, and Wednesday, March 2, from 12:00-2:00 pm. If you’re in the area, stop by and chat about Jamie and Pete. :D

The Jamie Brodie canon.

Character flaws

Library at Merton College, Oxford, UK. © Jorge Royan / http://www.royan.com.ar, via Wikimedia Commons

I’ve been writing a scene for an upcoming book where one of Jamie’s fellow librarians (Justin Como) tells him that he and another librarian (Isabel Gutierrez) “walk around here [the YRL library] like you own the place.” Jamie is totally baffled by this. “I do??” Liz and Kristen assure him that yes, indeed, he does.

It got me to thinking about character flaws – specifically, Jamie’s. It’s already come up that he’s an academic snob. Graduating from Berkeley and Oxford, being a Rhodes Scholar, will do that to a guy. He’s aware of that, and tries to corral it, but isn’t always successful.

None of us see ourselves as others do, and Jamie is no exception. Since the books are written from his POV, his blind spots may not be immediately evident. But they will show themselves over time.

As Kevin pointed out in Just Right, Jamie is the baby of the family. He is the closest to his dad of the three boys, and he’s been told by his grandfather (in Low Country) that Jamie was his favorite. He was never spoiled in a material sense – there wasn’t enough money for that – but he was emotionally spoiled, and probably got his own way more often than Kevin or Jeff did.

He certainly seems to get his own way with Pete. If Pete suggests something that Jamie is totally against doing, Jamie doesn’t compromise. He points out all the reasons that he thinks Pete’s idea is terrible, until Pete gives in. Example: Pete’s exploration of whether he and Jamie might have a child (in Encountered to Death). Jamie’s initial reaction is, Oh, hell no, and he never wavers from that. Another example: Pete and Jamie are in Oakland in Talked to Death. Pete agrees to help the police with their interviews without consulting Jamie first, thereby wrecking Jamie’s plans for a romantic day and evening in San Francisco. Jamie behaves like a total shit (I have to admit, I probably would too) until Pete is groveling with apologies.

Jamie tends toward being more hot-tempered than not. He gets mad, yells and cusses, then cools off. Pete, on the other hand, dwells on perceived wrongs over time until they burst out. If Jamie is in a bad mood, he grumbles out loud. Pete holds it inside.

What other flaws do you see in Jamie that he doesn’t see in himself?

Free short story: Just Right

Just Right

Saturday, July 11, 2015

When the doorbell rang, Kristen Beach checked her watch. Right on time. She liked that. Her last boyfriend, Lawrence, had been chronically late; her ex-husband, Daniel, had always been fifteen minutes early.

She chuckled, thinking of Goldilocks, and hoped Kevin Brodie would be just right.

She opened the door. Kevin was already smiling; his smile grew wider when he saw her. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself. Come in.” Kristen closed the door behind Kevin. “I just have to grab my purse.”

Kevin trailed after her to the kitchen, where her purse sat on the counter. “You look great.”

“Thanks. So do you.” And he did. He was wearing a blue polo shirt, that matched his eyes exactly, and pressed navy chinos.

To her surprise, Kevin blushed a bit. Maybe he was unused to getting compliments. Kristen figured that his ex, Abby, hadn’t been too complimentary.

Apparently she hadn’t been complementary either. Too bad for her, but good news for Kristen.

She locked the house and followed Kevin to the driveway, where he opened the door of his Honda Civic for her and said, “I hope this doesn’t offend you.”

“Having a door opened for me? Of course not. Thank you.” Kristen grinned. “As long as you don’t mind if I open doors for you sometimes.”

He laughed. “I don’t mind.” He circled the car and got in, noting with approval that she’d already buckled her seatbelt.

Kristen had gone hiking with Kevin and a group of friends a couple of times and had attended Jamie’s wedding with him eight days ago – but this was their first real date. They were going to Eugenio’s, a small Italian restaurant on a side street of West Hollywood that was just casual enough to be comfortable. The choice was another point in Kevin’s favor. Her first date with Daniel had been at a trendy, incredibly expensive place where a miniscule amount of food was presented on an enormous plate, and the final bill had been over two hundred dollars. Her first date with Lawrence had been at a seafood dive in Santa Monica with peanut shells and shrimp tails on the floor.

Eugenio’s was just right.

Kevin navigated through the winding streets of Bel Air toward Beverly Glen Boulevard. He glanced at her in amusement. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be in your work clothes or not.”

Kristen laughed. Her work clothes consisted of pencil skirts, silk blouses and stilettos – the sexy librarian stereotype. Tonight she was wearing a linen tank top and ankle-cropped pants with ballet flats. “No – like you said, those are my work clothes.”

“Why?”

She glanced at him, surprised. “Why do I wear those clothes to work?”

“Yeah. I’m curious.”

“It’s a costume.” She shrugged. “When I became a librarian, I decided to mock the stereotype. Now – it’s my professional signature, I guess.”

“Is that how you want to be known?”

She cocked her head at him. She hadn’t been sure how Kevin would be as a one-on-one conversationalist since they’d only been together in large groups. So far, she was impressed. “That’s how I want to be known at work. I find it intimidates certain personality types, both students and coworkers, who need to be intimidated.”

He nodded. “It’s a power statement.”

“Yes. Like a gun and badge can be.”

“Some cops see them that way.”

“You don’t?”

He thought about that a minute. “I suppose the badge is a power statement. It’s the symbol of the power of the law enforcement system that backs us up. The gun – no. It’s just a tool for me.”

Kristen knew that Kevin had been forced to kill a guy who’d taken another man hostage a couple of years ago. She didn’t want to get into that discussion with him tonight. “Jamie tells me you have a degree in philosophy. That seems unusual for a police officer.”

The corner of his mouth tipped up in a smile. “I’m sure there are others, but I’ve never met them.”

“Why did you choose that?”

“I thought it was the best way to study ethics.”

“Ah. Makes sense. You knew you wanted to be a cop?”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “It’s a middle child thing. We develop a strong sense of justice from a lifetime of receiving the short stick.”

Kristen laughed. “I’ve met your dad. I doubt that you were terribly neglected.”

“You’re right, I wasn’t. Dad and my grandfather did a pretty good job of keeping things equitable. But I see, in my own family and in others, the first-born is special and the baby is special. The middle kid or kids are just along for the ride.”

“Are Jamie and your older brother closer to your dad?”

“Marginally, yes. Jeff lives in the same town as Dad, and Jamie had a year of Dad to himself when I went off to college. And, the past few years when I was with Abby, we spent a lot more time with her family than mine. Dad and I are close, don’t get me wrong – I’m only talking about a degree or two of difference.” He glanced at her. “Where do you fall in the family dynamic?”

“I’m the oldest of two, but my brother is ten years younger. I was an only child for a long time.”

They pulled into the small parking lot beside the restaurant; Kristen got out of the car rather than wait for Kevin to open the door for her. Kevin gave her a knowing smile as he came around the car – he’d noticed.

She figured there would be very little that she could hide from Kevin, even if she wanted to.

Which she didn’t.

 

Once they were seated, a basket of garlic bread between them, Kevin said, “You know a lot about my family already. You met most of them at Jamie’s wedding. I don’t know anything about yours.”

Kristen smiled, thinking of her parents. “My mom and dad were born about ten years too late. They had Woodstock values in the Wonder Years generation. They met in college, at the University of Washington. My mom got pregnant with me near the end of their sophomore year, so they got married. They were twenty when I was born.”

“So you were born in Seattle?”

“Yes, and raised there until I was nine. My dad went to medical school at UW and did his residency in family medicine there.”

“Your dad’s a doctor.”

“Yeah, but he’s worked for the health department his whole life. When he finished residency, we moved to Yakima. They still live there.”

“They’re still married?”

“Yep.” Kristen grinned. “Still hippies, too. Your sister-in-law Valerie reminds me a lot of my mom, except my parents are vegans. Mom has a degree in elementary education, but she chose to stay home. She has a huge garden and organized some of the first co-ops and CSAs in Yakima. A CSA is -”

“Community-supported agriculture. Val’s into that too. She’s not a vegan, though.”

“Neither am I.” Kristen smiled at the server, who’d come to take their order. “I’ll have the lasagna.”

Kevin ordered eggplant parmesan and handed the menus to the server. “You get along with your parents?”

“I do. They’re terrific people.”

“Sounds like it.” Kevin’s expression became mischievous. “Were you a rebel?”

“Ha! Not growing up. I didn’t have anything to rebel against. My parents are the most open-minded people you’ll ever meet.” Kristen took a second piece of garlic bread, noting that Kevin seemed to approve of a woman with a healthy appetite. “No, I was a band geek through high school and college.”

“What instrument?”

“Flute and piccolo. Did you ever play an instrument?”

“No.” Kevin took another slice of bread for himself. “We had money for either sports or music. Not both. We all chose sports.”

“Ah. I ran track in high school, but that was pretty inexpensive.”

“Jeff went to Stanford on a track scholarship. He ran cross-country.”

“Wow. He must have been good.”

“He was.”

“You played baseball, right?”

“Yep. That’s how I paid for UCLA.”

“You must have been good, too.”

Kevin looked a bit self-conscious but didn’t downplay it. “I was.” He didn’t seem to want to talk about that. “Why journalism?”

Kristen smiled wryly. “Being raised by my parents, I was an idealist when I got out of high school. I wanted to be an investigative journalist, to expose wrongs and make things right.”

“You wanted to see justice done.”

“Yes. Like you. But my first job out of college was writing copy for the teleprompter at a TV station in Spokane, and I realized I liked to write. I enjoyed the challenge of using the least words to convey the most information. One of the station managers, a woman who acted as a mentor for me, suggested that I go on for a master’s degree to improve my job prospects. I decided I wanted to get out of Washington, so I applied to USC’s Annenberg School, and got accepted. That’s how I came to LA.”

“Is your master’s in journalism too?”

“No, I switched to communications management. Messaging, essentially. I had the idea that I wanted to work as a consultant to nonprofits that needed help with their message.”

“Did you?”

“Briefly. I got a job at County/USC Hospital in media relations. I met Daniel there, and after we got serious he didn’t want me working there anymore. So I resigned, but I was bored. I started casting around for something else to do, and a friend suggested library school.”

“Was Daniel controlling?”

“He could be. His concern in that instance was mostly for my safety. At that point I wanted to be with him enough to do what he asked.”

“He worked at the hospital?”

“Assistant chief of neurosurgery.”

Kevin whistled softly. “High-powered.”

“Yeah, he was. He was also a year younger than my father.”

He chuckled. “That must have gone over well with your dad.”

Kristen grinned. “Not so much.”

“How long were you married?”

“Eight years. Twenty-six to thirty-four. How about you?”

“Five years. Twenty-two to twenty-seven.”

“Did you meet your ex in college?”

“Yeah. Jennifer. She was a kindergarten teacher and eventually a hoarder.”

Kristen winced. “Ouch.”

Kevin huffed a laugh. “Yeah, no kidding.”

 

They talked for hours, about their jobs, their marriages, their families. The time flew. Before Kristen knew it, they were the last people left in the restaurant. Kevin asked for the check. Kristen said, “Will you let me leave the tip?”

He smiled. “Sure.”

She left a generous tip – which seemed to please Kevin – and they walked to the car. He said, “I hate that I have to end the evening early, but I have to drive to San Diego tomorrow morning.”

“Oh. Family stuff?”

“No, to interview a suspect.” He opened the car door for her again, then circled to his own side. “Remember the day we met? The Jane Doe we had in Benedict Canyon?”

“I remember. She was shot in the chest.”

“Yes. Jon and I are going to talk to the woman who paid her killer.”

Kristen stared. “Someone had her killed?”

“No. Someone had an acquaintance of hers killed, and she got caught in the crossfire.” Kevin shook his head, his expression grim. “I’ll tell you all about it one of these days.”

“Okay.” One of these days. That sounded promising.

When they got to the house, Kevin walked her to the door and waited while she unlocked it and turned off the alarm. She turned to him and said, “I’ve enjoyed this so much.”

“I have too. I hope we can do it again, soon.”

“I’d like that very much. Good luck in San Diego tomorrow. Let me know how it goes.”

“Thank you. I will.”

For a second, Kevin seemed to be considering what to do. Kristen flashed back to Daniel, who’d cooly and formally kissed her knuckles at the end of their first date, and Lawrence, who’d laid a long, sloppy kiss on her and had wanted to spend the night.

Kevin grinned and held out his fist. Kristen laughed and bumped his fist with her own.

He got in the car and drove away, waving. She waved back, smiling.

Just right.

Thoughts on titles

Another title I enjoy. By CovertAffairs22 (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

I’ve been lucky with my titles. Only two have been duplicates, that I know of. Played to Death was a title of a mystery written in 2014; it always comes up above my Played to Death in Amazon’s results. Talked to Death was the title of a book about the murder of a radio talk show host, Alan Berg, in Colorado.

I’ve never had too much trouble thinking of titles, once I got past the first one. I went round and round with my friends, trying to decide which of several options would work best for the first title. We finally decided that the “To Death” title would work well for a series. And I think it has.

I’m changing a title now – what was going to be Pictured to Death is going to have another name. I mentioned before that there’s not much mystery and it’s very short, so I’m going to publish it here on the blog. Freebie!! :D But keeping the title “Pictured to Death” didn’t seem right, since it wasn’t going to be a published book. I didn’t want people to be confused.

So I’ve changed the name – to Photographs and Memories. Those of you who are around my own age may recognize that as the title of an old Jim Croce album and song. How can I use that, you might ask? Fortunately, titles cannot be copyrighted. That’s why you can have two or more books with the same title, two or more movies, etc. I wouldn’t be able to use the lyrics to a song, but I can use the title.

So, in June, you’ll be getting serialized installments of Photographs and Memories, formerly known as Pictured to Death.

In case you weren’t clear, it’s about photographs. :D

Another one bites the dust

I’ve been forced to abandon another book.

Well, I wasn’t forced. I did it voluntarily. But I had to do it. Toured to Death is not going to happen.

I wrote the outline for the book as part of NaNoWriMo, and thought it would work. However, when I began actually writing the thing, I realized that I hated it, and you all would too. It was depressing, it was nearly impossible to include any humor, the “tour” would drag us all through Scotland again, and the premise was flawed.

The idea was that Pete’s aunt would give the guys a ten-day tour that she’d won in a raffle. The tour would occur during Jamie’s sabbatical, so he was flatly opposed to it. In order for the book to happen, Pete would have to go against Jamie’s emphatic refusal and say yes to his aunt.

I decided he wouldn’t have done that. So – no tour, no book.

Believe me, we’re all better off. :)

The print publishing process

“Hoe’s one cylinder printing press” by A.H. Jocelyn – History of the Processes of Manufacture 1864. Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons – https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Hoe%27s_one_cylinder_printing_press.png#/media/File:Hoe%27s_one_cylinder_printing_press.png

So here’s more detail about my foray into print.

Back in December I got into a discussion on the Facebook Gay Mystery page with a reader who said he hated e-books, loved bibliomysteries, and would read the Jamie books in print if they were available. I told him I’d explore the possibilities.

I’d always avoided print for two reasons: first, a friend who had been through the process told me it was horrible, and made formatting for Smashwords seem like child’s play. Second, I knew I’d have to charge more for print books, and I didn’t want to.

But, with at least one guaranteed sale, I figured it was worth it to investigate.

What I found was fascinating.

Createspace is the website where everyone I know has gone to self-publish in print. Like Kindle and Smashwords, it’s free – as long as you stick to the basics. The Word files for the books were easy to upload. The covers were trickier. I didn’t have the expertise to format the existing e-covers for the print books, and getting help with it would be $99 per book.

There goes any profit.

As a result, the covers are different. There are elements of the e-covers in the print covers, in that in some cases I was able to use the same photo, and in others a similar photo.

But even though the covers are different, the books are the same.

Another interesting finding: Createspace is an Amazon company. The books can be bought both through the Createspace site and the Amazon site. When the purchase is made through Createspace, I make $2.00 more than I do with an Amazon purchase.

Same company. But Amazon is poaching $2.00/book from the author, even though it’s the same company.

Sheesh.

One more thing: Createspace sets the minimum charge for the book, based on the length. As a result, I can’t charge the same price for all the print books like I can with the e-books. The first three are $7.99, but the fourth, Researched to Death, is longer. It’s $9.99.

Anyway! The first four books in the JBM series are now available in print, if you’re interested, at Createspace now and at Amazon in a few days. I will probably continue and get the rest of the existing books out in print by mid-year.