Isabel Long Mystery Series, Working the Beat

Why I Write Mysteries

Another find while cleaning out my computer: this post I wrote last June for author Val Penny’s website. Val, who writes the Edinburgh Crime Series, is a fellow mystery writer at darkstroke books. This post has been updated since it was written while I was in the middle of writing Working the Beat, my newest book Isabel Long Mystery Series.

Hey, before I go further, just as the image above suggests, Chasing the Case, no. 1 in the series is available for free for Kindle readers on Sunday and Monday, Feb. 27-28, only.

Who doesn’t love a good mystery? I surely do, whether it’s in a book, a movie or TV show (especially from the UK), and on occasion, real life. And a few years ago, I decided I would create my own, and thus the Isabel Long Mystery Series began.

Let me back up a little. I didn’t start writing mysteries. I was drawn to what I would call literary fiction. I have completed five in that genre, two of which have been published. I have also delved into kids’ books, including one that is bilingual.

But it was after a close friend, Teresa Dovalpage, who is also an author, wrote her first mystery that I told myself to give it a try. And from reading and watching so many mysteries, I believe I figured it out from the get-go.

First, mysteries need someone who solves them. In my case, it’s Isabel Long, who uses the transferable skills of her former profession as a journalist to be a private investigator solving cold cases in the rural area where she lives. (Full disclosure, I have been a journalist for 35 years, and I long decided I could easily be a lawyer, detective, or if I were brave enough, a spy. I officially retired from that profession on Feb. 4.)

Isabel is smart, nosy, and a bit sassy, and people who know me would likely say I channel myself a bit through this character. But that’s where the similarities end. She’s a recent widow, mother of three grown kids and grandmother to a little one. Her personal life changes after she starts working as a part-time bartender at the town’s only bar and she becomes involved with its owner.

I gave Isabel an unusual sidekick, he 92-year-old mystery-loving mother who lives with her. (My real-life mother, now 97, is the inspiration.)

In the first book of this series, Isabel decides to solve a very cold case, one that happened 28 years earlier when a woman in her small town disappeared. It was also her first big story as a rooky reporter.

The setting for the series is the sticks of Western Massachusetts in the U.S., which I know well since I’ve lived there much of my life. The characters are not based on anyone real, but I feel they could easily live there. Many stay around through the series.

One important thing about watching or reading a mystery is that I want to be fooled until nearly the end. Please keep me guessing but don’t make the distractions and dead ends obvious. Give me characters who are complex and interesting. I love when all of that happens. I hope to do the same for my readers.

I will share a secret. Just like Isabel, I don’t start off knowing whodunnit. It’s as much a mystery to me as it is to her and we solve it together — an experience I find extremely satisfying.

As for writing book no. 5 in the series, Working the Beat … a few years ago, I went to a demolition derby at a local country fair. Something clicked inside me when a friend mentioned a derby might be a good place to find a body. That was all I needed to get started. The same goes for Isabel.

Working the Beat had a Jan. 27 release. I am already into the next one, tentatively called Finding the Lead. The lead or lede is a term for the opening sentence or paragraph of a news article, summarizing the most important aspects of the story. If you got to the end of Working the Beat — thank you — you’ll know who hires Isabel next to solve a 50-year-old mystery.

ABOUT THE PHOTO ABOVE:

A reminder about the freebie promo. Here’s the link: Chasing the Case on Amazon

LINKS:

Here is the one for Val Penny’s website: https://www.valpenny.com

And the one for my books on Amazon: Joan Livingston Books on Amazon

 

 

 

 

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Isabel Long Mystery Series, Working the Beat

Women of Mystery

Specifically, I am writing about those women who appear in my Isabel Long Mystery Series. My characters become very real to me, so real I let them stick around through the series. Of course, a few are one and done in a book. Two were already dead by the time Isabel got to investigate how that happened. Today I will write about five of the women in Working the Beat, No. 5 in the series, whichIG Working the Beat copy incidently has a Jan. 27 release. (I will be writing about the men another time.)

ISABEL LONG: Isabel is a private investigator who uses the skills she acquired as a former long-time journalist to solve cold cases in the fictional hilltowns of Western Massachusetts. And so far, she’s really good at it. Readers learn all about them through her eyes and sometimes snarky humor. She’s a rather recent widow, who ended her year of grieving by taking on her first case: solving the disappearance 28 years earlier of a woman in her town. She also tends bar Friday nights at the Rooster, the only watering hole in her tiny town. That’s how she hooked up with its owner, Jack, a local guy. They have what I would call a fun-loving relationship. She’s got a family — three kids, one granddaughter and her mother who lives with her — and Jack doesn’t. He worries about her getting hurt on the job, yes, it’s happened, but she tells him she just needs to be smarter.

MARIA: Maria is Isabel’s mother, so most of the book she’s known as Ma. She turns 93 during the series. She came to live with Isabel when both of them were tired of living alone. It’s been an adjustment for Maria, coming from the Eastern part of the state. Like her daughter, her Portuguese heritage is important. Isabel calls her mother, her partner in crime, because she helps her solve cases. A big fan of mysteries, in books and on the screen, she gives Isabel wise counsel and enjoys the excitement. I was inspired by my own mother, who is 97, to create Maria.

ANNETTE WATERS: Isabel calls Annette the “Tough Cookie” but never to her face although frankly, she would like the nickname. Isabel met Annette in the series’ second book, “Redneck’s Revenge,” when she asked her to investigate the death of her father, who died when his shack of a house caught fire. He was supposed to have been too drunk. Annette is a mechanic who owns Rough Waters Garage and Junkyard. She’s also a single mother with an adult son, who she tries to help with a job and direction. Besides working hard, Annette likes to play hard, and if she sees a man she likes, she’s not shy about it. She hasn’t had a steady guy, well except for one brief marriage. The Tough Cookie doesn’t take crap from anybody, is a serious wise-cracker, and in Working the Beat, she drives in the demolition derby.

MARSHA DUNLOP: Marsha has been with this series right from the first, Chasing the Case, when she was a person of interest. She is a first cousin of Annette, and it is Marsha who turns her onto to Isabel for help. She’s usually with her cousin, and in fact, the two of them bought a convenience store in the middle of nowhere, but the Pit Stop does well because they sell gas, booze and cigarettes. Marsha’s nickname? The Floozy. I don’t know why Isabel came up with that one because Marsha has a steady guy, but it’s stuck.

SHIRLEY DAWES: Shirley is a new character. She hires Isabel because she doesn’t feel her beloved grandson died by accident — falling into a ravine while everybody was watching a demolition derby at the Titus Country Fair. Shirley has had it tough. She married a no-good abuser who fortunately died, but not before making her and their two children’s lives miserable. Her drug-addicted daughter left Lucas with her mother, and Shirley tried her best to give him the good life her own kids didn’t have. She’s rough around the edges, a little deaf, and a hoarder. I’m surprised Isabel didn’t give her a nickname.

Here, I’ll give you an excerpt from Working the Beat. Here Isabel and her mother meet Shirley, who approached them at the Titus Country Fair.

Shirley stays sitting when she sees us approach. I make our introductions, and then we take the seats opposite her at the picnic table. I make sure I’m in Shirley’s direct line of vision in case she reads lips.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” I ask.

Shirley works her mouth a bit.

“It’s about my grandson, Lucas. Lucas Page is his full name. He was killed here four years ago and whoever did it didn’t get caught.”

“Here in Titus?”

She gives her head a shake.

“I mean here at the fair. It was after the demolition derby, the first one they had. They found Lucas’s body the next morning behind where everybody watches, in the woods up there. They said he must’ve been drunk and fell down in the rocks. His head was hit real bad I was told.”

“What was he doing on the hill afterward? Was he alone?”

“That’s what I want you to find out.”

This story’s coming back to me now. I was the editor of the Daily Star then. We reported on an unattended death at the fair in a story that made the front page, and then like Shirley said, it was ruled an accident because of a brain injury, although she protested that in a story we ran, too.

“Now, I remember you, Shirley. You came to see me in the newsroom. You said you were frustrated the police didn’t seem to be looking that hard into your grandson’s case and you wanted us to do that.”

I think back and hope I treated this woman nicely.

“Yeah, I did. You said newspapers don’t do that kind of work.”

“No, not the one I worked for.”

“But I heard about what you’ve been doin’ now as a private investigator. Your last case was a doozy. Read about it in the paper.” She crooks a thumb toward Annette and her son, still talking with his admirers. “Course, there was Chet Waters. Maybe you can do what the cops couldn’t or wouldn’t do.”

“You mean find out what happened that night with your grandson.”

“Yeah. I heard you get paid for doin’ this. I wanna hear how much. I ain’t got a lot. But this is important to me. I loved my grandson. I’m the one who brought him up after his mother gave him to me. He was hangin’ around with a rough crowd in those days. Tryin’ to fit in. Here. Let me show you his picture.”

Shirley reaches for the purse on the seat beside her. The purse is vintage style, off white with a smart clasp on the top, no zippers, something my mother would use. I am guessing Shirley holds onto things. She removes a photo from her wallet and hands it to me.

“I took it at Christmas, the last one we had,” she says.

Lucas Page’s face smiles at me. He’s young, blue-eyed, and with the kind of features that would label him a good-looking guy. His most distinctive is the red hair that’s short on the sides and long enough on the top so it has a bit of curl. But back to that smile. He was happy to pose for his grandmother.

“He was a handsome young man,” I tell Shirley.

She swipes away a tear.

“Yeah, he was.”

I glance at my mother. She’s interested, of course. The questions are forming in my brain, but this isn’t the time to ask them. Already a parade of people I know have passed by with a wave, a hello, and a curious expression on their faces as they wonder why in the heck my mother and I are talking with this woman. They’re just being nosy New Englanders as usual.

“Shirley, we’re interested, but this isn’t the best place to talk. We need some privacy. How about my mother and I come to your home to talk this over?”

“What’d you say? My house?”

“Yes, your house. Well, you could come to ours if you prefer. We live in Conwell. But it would help us if we could see where you and your grandson lived. I should also tell you that if I’m interested in taking your case, I have to clear it with my boss. Do you know Lin Pierce?” I pause as she nods. “He gets a small cut of whatever I make. So, he has a say.” I register the concern in Shirley’s narrowed eyes. “Don’t worry. He hasn’t turned me down yet.”

“I understand,” she says. “Can’t do it tomorrow. I’m helpin’ out in the kitchen here. Monday mornin’ work for you?”

Ma and I exchange glances.

“How about ten?” I say.

Shirley nods.

“Ten, it is. Do you mind if I make a copy of your grandson’s photo with my phone?”

“Go right ahead if it helps.”

I place the photo on the table and remove my cell phone from my bag to take a shot before I hand the photo back to Shirley.

“Here you go.”

Shirley leaves us after she gives me directions to her house in West Titus. She lives on one of those dead-end dirt roads, hers is the last house, that’s also likely one of the last to be plowed in the winter and impassable at times in the spring because of the mud. But she’s probably one of those people who doesn’t mind because she wants to live out of the way of everybody. I don’t have to worry about road conditions this time of year. The road’s been graded recently she told me.

I wait until Shirley is out of earshot as she moves inside the crowd that’s wandering the fairgrounds. She stops first at the pumpkin display, where Annette and Abe are still hanging out.

“What’s your opinion, Ma?”

“I like her. She’s a little rough around the edges like a lot of the people we meet here,” she says. “But it’s about time we found a new case. It was getting a little boring.”

I smile. My 93-year-old mother is game for a new mystery to solve.

LINK TO WORKING THE BEAT: Starting Jan. 27, you can buy the book in two versions: Kindle and paperback. Here’s the link: mybook.to/workingthebeat And thank you if you do.

 

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Isabel Long Mystery Series, Working the Beat

An Author’s Dedication

Authors have two kinds of dedication. There’s that stick-to-it-iveness required to write a story and stay with it from inspiration to the end. Then, there are the dedications we authors choose to give our books — on the page, the third and right after the one with the copyright info. It’s our way of saying thanks to the people who have been supportive or inspirational and often both.

In the past, I’ve dedicated my published books to my husband, Hank and family members, plus friends, Teresa Dovalpage and Fred Fullerton, writers who have been big supporters.

For Working the Beat, I chose Steve and Diane Magargal, as you can see by the photo above. The Margargals are the former owners of Liston’s Bar and Grill in Worthington — a hilltown in Western IG Working the Beat copyMassachusetts where I lived 25 years before moving to New Mexico.

Liston’s was a friendly place where Hank and I used to go Friday nights to dance and imbibe. Last year, Steve and Diane sold the bar they had owned for 21 years to a group, who tore it down with the intention of rebuilding and reopening Liston’s, which first opened in 1933.

The Isabel Long Mystery Series features the Rooster Bar and Grille, along with other bars, like Baxter’s and Red’s Corner Lounge. (Actually all of my adult fiction has a bar. I’ll be doing a post about that.) But while what happens at the Rooster is strictly fiction, I recognize that going to Liston’s — as well as another now long-gone Worthington bar, the Drummer’s Club, and working as a bartender at a restaurant that replaced it for a while — was great research and a whole lot of fun. The Margagals were great hosts.

As I’ve said numerous times, I take what I know and have my way with it. Just to be clear to people I may know from Worthington who guess otherwise: everything and everybody in my books are made up, including the owner and patrons of the Rooster. Honest to you-know-what.

But in dedicating Working the Beat to Steve and Diane, I wanted to recognize all of those great nights out and for providing inspiration. Thank you very much.

AN EXCERPT FROM WORKING THE BEAT

In the book’s first chapter, Isabel and Jack, who owns the Rooster, are playing cards. It’s a dead night at the bar since most everybody is at the Titus Country Fair for truck pull night. For those unfamiliar with the series, Isabel Long is the book’s narrator.

Jack shuffles the cards.

“Ready to get beat again?” he jokes.

But before I can answer, I hear two women laughing at the front door, two voices I would recognize anywhere. Cousins Marsha Dunlop and Annette Waters, aka the Floozy and Tough Cookie, are yakking it up.

“Where in the hell is everybody?” Marsha yells.

“At the Titus Country Fair, where else.” Jack puts down the deck. “Can I get you ladies somethin’ to drink?”

Annette snorts.

“Ladies? He sure got us wrong.” She waves her hand. “We’re all set for now. We just came by to see Isabel.”

The two of them move closer, one on either side of me. Both are wearing summer country casual, that is, tank tops and jeans, although Annette’s is a lot tighter than her cousin’s. She’s obviously on the prowl tonight. My keen sense of smell detects they’ve already imbibed in a few beers or something stronger, and maybe a few tokes of weed. Marsha’s bushy mane of hair tickles my shoulder.

“Me? What for?”

“You goin’ to the fair tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’m taking my mother in the afternoon.” I glance at Jack when he coughs. “And then, I’m going with Jack to the demolition derby. Gotta see you in action, Annette. Heard you’re quite the driver.”

The two women make snorting laughs. Annette will be driving a car she and her son, Abe, fixed up. From what I’ve been told, this is the fifth year the Titus Country Fair has held a demolition derby, which the fair’s board decided correctly would pump up attendance. As Annette told my mother and me when we were at her garage not that long ago, she’s competed in the last two years, the first year on a dare. She was the first woman to compete in the derby. Now, there are a few other like-minded females who enter, although she claims they aren’t up to her driving skills. Her team’s name? Wild Woman. It could be Wild Women since Marsha helps on the sidelines, and yeah, they certainly fit that nickname. But both liked the name Wild Woman better. Ma and I saw the car, painted black with shocking pink lettering on the trunk: “Rough Waters Garage and Junkyard” and “Dear Old Dad Chet Waters.” It definitely looks like something a wild woman would drive.

“Just be careful,” my mother told her.

“Don’t you worry about me, Maria. I’ll just smash whatever car gets in my way,” she responded with a cackle. “This is my third year. I’ve figured things out.”

Now, inside the Rooster, Annette gives my arm a playful punch.

“What’s up?” I ask her.

“Glad to hear you and your mother will be at the fair in the afternoon. Make sure you go to the exhibit hall at around two. You won’t be disappointed.”

“Did you grow something?”

She laughs.

“Sure did, but nothin’ I could show at the fair. This is somethin’ else. Just come. Okay?”

This is unlike Annette to be so coy, but I’ll go along with it. My mother and I’ve grown fond of her ever since I took on her case to prove that her father, Chet wasn’t too drunk to get out of his shack of a house when it caught fire, that someone had it in for him. It was my second, and it brought me in touch with a rather rough crowd, country style, including the Beaumont brothers, Gary and Larry, notorious drug dealers who still manage to get away with it. But like the Floozy and Tough Cookie, I grew to like the brothers when I got to know them better for my third and fourth cases.

But this isn’t the time to linger. Annette’s expecting an answer.

“My mother and I can do that. We’ll see you there. Promise.”

She nods.

“Good. Hey, we’re heading to the fair now. Horse pull night.”

“Didn’t know you were such a fan,” I say. “I thought machinery was more your style.”

“She’s too much,” Marsha says as she gives her cousin a chop to the arm.

The Tough Cookie is all grins, which is a refreshing change from her usual scowl, well, except when she’s on the hunt for a man here at the Rooster or some other drinking establishment. Annette’s got her hair pulled into a nice ponytail and she’s wearing earrings, small gold hoops. She sure smells a lot nicer than her cousin. Now, I get it. She’s hot on one of the guys at the horse pull.

“So, who’s the guy you’re rooting for tonight?” I ask.

Ouch, now it’s my turn for a slap to the arm. I’m glad I’m out of that cast.

“You sure got me all figured out, Isabel,” Annette says with a snort.

The Tough Cookie mentions the name of a Semi-Regular Rooster who has a working farm one town over in Penfield. As I recall, he has a side business installing septic systems.

“Isn’t he married?”

“Was. Anyways don’t forget about tomorrow.”

LINK TO BUY WORKING THE BEAT:

Working the Beat has a Jan. 27 release. Here’s the link: mybook.to/workingthebeat

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Isabel Long Mystery Series, Working the Beat

What’s Behind the Title?

Working the Beat is number five in my Isabel Long Mystery Series. Like the other books in this series, that title popped into my head. It’s a bit of a tribute to Isabel’s former career as a journalist, first as a reporter and then as an editor. And I would be remiss in not stating my long career has been in that field.

As I can attest,  a reporter has a beat, whether it’s a topic such as higher education or crime, or one that’s geographic. A good reporter will work that beat to find and report stories — staying with them until the end.

When I was a reporter, I covered a rural area in Western Massachusetts for a daily newspaper. One might think there wouldn’t be any news in a town of say a thousand people, but as I found out, there was plenty to write about‚ even crime. I developed a list of reliable sources. I kept my ears and eyes open for possible tips, finding them sometimes in unexpected places. I was friendly when I needed to be. And a good listener. Yes, I put being nosy to a good cause.

Yes, these are transferable skills. And those are what Isabel Long uses as a private investigator.

In Working the Beat, Isabel is at a country fair with her mother when she is approached by a woman who says her grandson’s body was found there four years ago. Shirley Dawes raised Lucas after he was abandoned by his drug-addicted mother. She did better by him than she did her own children, when she was married to a no-good abuser.

As Isabel learns, the  young man’s body was found in a ravine after he apparently fell during a demotion derby. Nobody saw what happened. But Shirley doesn’t believe it was an accident.

Once again, Isabel is a sucker for a sad story.

She begins this case doing a thorough interview with Shirley. She speaks to people who knew Lucas. Then there is that file of clippings she snagged the day she lost her job at the newspaper.

Isabel works the beat meeting reliable sources from her other cases like the Old Farts in the back room of the general store, cousins Annette and Marsha, even the Beaumont brothers. Her timing is spot on — the demolition derby is the night she meets Shirley. I call that reporter’s good luck or in the case of Isabel, a P.I’s good luck.

As Isabel pursues this case, she encounters new persons of interest — an unsavory group who quickly become suspects. She also uncovers a secret about Lucas and a possible connection to another mystery.

I admit I am not brave enough to be a private investigator. So, I do it vicariously through Isabel Long.

By the way Working the Beat has an official release of Jan. 27 although the Kindle version is available for pre-order. (Soon on paperback.) Thanks for your support. Here is the link: mybook.to/workingthebeat

ABOUT THE PHOTO ABOVE: The covers for the books in my Isabel Long Mystery Series, designed by Laurence Patterson, co-publisher of darkstroke books.

 

 

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Isabel Long Mystery Series, Working the Beat

Working the Beat Ready to Pre-Order

Yes, indeed, starting today Kindle readers can pre-order Working the Beat, number five in my Isabel Long Mystery Series. Then magically my book will appear on their device Jan. 27, perfect timing for those in the Northern Hemisphere who are stuck inside for the worst of winter. Fans in the Southern Hemisphere can add it to their summer reading list.

Why would I want you to do a pre-order? According to Amazon, pre-orders contribute toward a book’s sale rank even before its release, which gets the word out to more readers.

To make it easy here is the link: mybook.to/workingthebeat.

Now, paperback fans are wondering: what about us? I will let you all know when they will be available, which will be long before Jan. 27.

Currently, I am still in the editing process with Miriam Drori, who has been the editor for my series. But as long as we have the cover, created by Laurence Patterson, and the synopsis for the back of the book, edited by Stephanie Patterson, we are good to begin pre-orders. The Pattersons are the brains behind darkstroke books, my publisher.

So what is Isabel Long up to in Working the Beat? She happens to be at the Titus Country Fair when she is approached by an old woman who says her grandson’s body was found four years earlier after the demolition derby. The cops say he slipped and fell down a ravine when everybody was fixed on cars smashin’ and crashin’ in the pit. Shirley Dawes doesn’t believe it.

Once again Isabel is a sucker for a sad story. Shirley Dawes brought up Lucas Page after his drug-addicted mother abandoned him. She tried to make up for the awful childhood her own kids had because of her late husband, a no-good abuser. And by what people say Lucas was a good guy.

So as Isabel pursues this case she relies on reliable sources she met during her other cases — those characters I couldn’t bear to let go like the Old Farts, Tough Cookie, the Floozie, the Beamont brothers and Dancing’ Dave. Oh Cyrus Nilsson aka the Big Shot Poet returns. Isabel meets new people, a rather unsavory group country-style who soon become suspects, and uncovers a couple of secrets. And turns out Lucas might be tied to another mystery — a string of break-ins in the hilltowns that happened months before he died.

Yes, Isabel and her 93-year-old mother, Maria, her “Watson,” are in the thick of it.

Here’s an excerpt. Isabel and her mother are at the Titus County Fair. Abe, the son of Annette Waters aka the Tough Cookie, won the pumpkin-growing contest with one weighing over 500 pounds. Shirley Dawes has already approached Isabel and now is waiting to talk with her at one of the picnic tables.

Shirley stays sitting when she sees us approach. I make our introductions, and then we take the seats opposite her at the picnic table. I make sure I’m in Shirley’s direct line of vision in case she reads lips.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” I ask.

Shirley works her mouth a bit.

“It’s about my grandson, Lucas. Lucas Page is his full name. He was killed here four years ago and whoever did it didn’t get caught.”

“Here in Titus?”

She gives her head a shake.

“I mean here at the fair. It was after the demolition derby, the first one they had. They found Lucas’s body the next morning behind where everybody watches, in the woods up there. They said he must’ve been drunk and fell down in the rocks. His head was hit real bad I was told.”

“What was he doing on the hill afterward? Was he alone?”

“That’s what I want you to find out.”

This story’s coming back to me now. I was the editor of the Daily Star then. We reported on an unattended death at the fair in a story that made the front page, and then like Shirley said, it was ruled an accident because of a brain injury, although she protested that in a story we ran, too.

“Now, I remember you, Shirley. You came to see me in the newsroom. You said you were frustrated the police didn’t seem to be looking that hard into your grandson’s case and you wanted us to do that.”

I think back and hope I treated this woman nicely.

“Yeah, I did. You said newspapers don’t do that kind of work.”

“No, not the one I worked for.”

“But I heard about what you’ve been doin’ now as a private investigator. Your last case was a doozy. Read about it in the paper.” She crooks a thumb toward Annette and her son, still talking with his admirers. “Course, there was Chet Waters. Maybe you can do what the cops couldn’t or wouldn’t do.”

“You mean find out what happened that night with your grandson.”

“Yeah. I heard you get paid for doin’ this. I wanna hear how much. I ain’t got a lot. But this is important to me. I loved my grandson. I’m the one who brought him up after his mother gave him to me. He was hangin’ around with a rough crowd in those days. Tryin’ to fit in. Here. Let me show you his picture.”

Shirley reaches for the purse on the seat beside her. The purse is vintage style, off white with a smart clasp on the top, no zippers, something my mother would use. I am guessing Shirley holds onto things. She removes a photo from her wallet and hands it to me.

“I took it at Christmas, the last one we had,” she says.

Lucas Page’s face smiles at me. He’s young, naturally, blue-eyed, and with the kind of features that would label him a good-looking guy. His most distinctive is the red hair that’s short on the sides and long enough on the top so it has a bit of curl. But back to that smile. He was happy to pose for his grandmother.

“He was a handsome young man,” I tell Shirley.

She swipes away a tear.

“Yeah, he was.”

I glance at my mother. She’s interested, of course. The questions are forming in my brain, but this isn’t the time to ask them. Already a parade of people I know have passed by with a wave, a hello, and a curious expression on their faces as they wonder why in the heck my mother and I are talking with this woman. They’re just being nosy New Englanders as usual.

“Shirley, we’re interested, but this isn’t the best place to talk. We need some privacy. How about my mother and I come to your home to talk this over?”

“What’d you say? My house?”

“Yes, your house. Well, you could come to ours if you prefer. We live in Conwell. But it would help us if we could see where you and your grandson lived. I should also tell you that if I’m interested in taking your case, I have to clear it with my boss. Do you know Lin Pierce?” I pause as she nods. “He gets a small cut of whatever I make. So, he has a say.” I register the concern in Shirley’s narrowed eyes. “Don’t worry. He hasn’t turned me down yet.”

“I understand,” she says. “Can’t do it tomorrow. I’m helpin’ out in the kitchen here. Monday mornin’ work for you?”

Ma and I exchange glances.

“How about ten?” I say.

“Ten, it is. Do you mind if I make a copy of your grandson’s photo with my phone?”

“Go right ahead if it helps.”

I place the photo on the table and remove my cell phone from my bag to take a shot before I hand the photo back to Shirley.

“Here you go.”

Shirley leaves us after she gives me directions to her house in West Titus. She lives on one of those dead-end dirt roads, hers is the last house, that’s also likely one of the last to be plowed in the winter and impassable at times in the spring because of the mud. But she’s probably one of those people who doesn’t mind because she wants to live out of the way of everybody. I don’t have to worry about road conditions this time of year. The road’s been graded recently she told me.

I wait until Shirley is out of earshot as she moves inside the crowd that’s wandering the fairgrounds. She stops first at the pumpkin display, where Annette and Abe are still hanging out.

“What’s your opinion, Ma?”

“I like her. She’s a little rough around the edges like a lot of the people we meet here,” she says. “But it’s about time we found a new case. It was getting a little boring.”

I smile. My 93-year-old mother is game for a new mystery to solve.

I hope this inspires you to read Working the Beat, number five in the Isabel Long Mystery Series.

 

 

 

 

 

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