Isabel Long Mystery Series

Chance Meeting Inspiration for Finding the Source

The “what ifs” kick in when I am about to start a new mystery. Like what if a woman who owns a junkyard wants Isabel Long to investigate the death of her father in a house fire? What if a baby was stolen from the front yard when her brother was lured away? What if a literary agent was shot in the head but survived? 

But for Finding the Source, the eighth book in the series, I had a real life encounter on the day of my mother’s funeral that inspired this book’s “what if”.

Hank and I had time before we had to be at the funeral home, so we took a walk through my hometown’s downtown. That’s where a man I didn’t know rushed toward me and announced, “My grandmother was murdered 46 years ago, and her case was never solved.” 

Naturally, I was intrigued.

I asked for his grandmother’s name and other details — no surprise given my background in journalism. Later, when I was back home, a little online research showed me the story was true. (By the way, Hank, a bit stunned, asked me, “How do you attract people like that?”)

In Finding the Source, Isabel and her 93-year-old mother Maria, her partner in solving crimes, are in the city of Mayfield where they are invited to lunch by a person from a previous case. (More on that in another post.) True to form, they are early, so they decide to take a little walk. There, they are approached by a homeless man who startles them with a story about finding his mother murdered when he was only twelve. 

True to form, I took my own experience and had my way with it in Finding the Source. I don’t know the background of the man who approached me. I didn’t even get his name. But what if Isabel is approached by a homeless man who has struggled with the murder of his mother, a seller of vintage books? What if it happened in Dillard, where Isabel must once again deal with its police chief?

Here’s a scene from that meeting. I will let Isabel tell you about it herself.

My attention refocuses on a man who walks fast across the library’s lawn. He has mostly white hair long past a decent cut that hangs almost to his shoulders, a full beard, and a purpose in his step. That determination makes me wonder if he is going to ask us for directions or more likely spare change since he appears rather under-dressed for today’s weather in a hooded sweatshirt instead of a heavy jacket. His jeans are worn at the knees. A backpack is slung over one shoulder.

The man stops a few feet in front of us, startling my mother who was concentrating on the library. As usual, I plan to take charge.

“My mother was murdered forty-three years ago, and her case was never solved,” the man announces in a loud voice.

Ma and I glance at each other. This was unexpected.

“Your mother was murdered?” I say, and the man needs no invitation to take another step closer.

“Her name’s Abigail. Abigail McKenzie. Mine is Tom, Tom McKenzie,” he says. “She was found beaten and strangled in our home. The cops back then did a lousy job investigating.”

Frankly, I am a bit stunned. I believe it’s the same for my mother because her mouth hangs open like she wants to say something but doesn’t know what. I study the man’s face, noting the stubble of whiskers and deep lines. Perhaps if I step closer, I might smell booze on his breath, but hold on, Isabel, let’s not jump to any conclusions. Keeping an open mind served me well as a reporter and now, as a private investigator. Maybe my mother and I simply appear approachable.

“I’d like to hear more,” I say.

“You do?” he asks with a tone of disbelief in his voice. 

I’m guessing he’s been turned away or ignored many times. Forty-three years? That could have happened a lot.

My mother pats my arm. 

“My daughter is a private investigator.”

“You’re a private investigator?” Tom McKenzie says. “You ever take cases like this?”

I have no idea how serious this man is or whether he’s dishing me a load of bull, but I can’t dismiss an opportunity to help a person do right. The people who have hired me have included a drug dealer, junkyard owner, and a noted poet. So, why not a perfect stranger who found me by chance on the street of a city I rarely visit? But I definitely would need a lot more before I seriously consider it. 

Here’s the link for Finding the Source if you would like to read it. And if you enjoy it, please leave a rating or a review. Thanks if you do.

Standard
mothers

Mothers in My Books

Happy Mother’s Day to moms everywhere. I could say the same to the many mothers who are characters in my books. Certainly, mothers and those mother-like people are important figures in our lives. The same goes for my fictional mothers who have to deal with the situations I cook up for them. Here is a rundown.

ISABEL LONG MYSTERY SERIES

Isabel is a mother of three grown children — one of whom doesn’t approve of her sleuthing — but the major mother in this series is Maria Ferreira, who advises her daughter on her cases. Maria, who came to live with Isabel, turns 93 in the series. But despite her advanced age, Maria often accompanies her daughter to interviews. She could be called her ‘Watson’, a role she so enjoys. She says it’s boring without a case. Maria is a big reader of mysteries and smutty romances. She also has a great sense of humor, especially dealing with living in the sticks and Isabel’s choices in life. Maria is such a popular character, so many readers have begged me not to ever let her die. I promise.

Also in the series, two mothers are victims in the cases Isabel is hired to solve, including Finding the Source, the eighth book, coming out June 4. More soon on that book. Another mother had her infant daughter kidnapped from her front yard in Following the Lead.

THE SWANSON SHUFFLE

In my latest release, Bia Fernandes comes to work at Swanson House, a psychiatric halfway house. Among the former mental hospital patients are two mothers who suffered the tragic loss of their babies. The impact on their mental health was severe.

NORTHERN COMFORT

Willi Miller is a single mother living with her son in a small rural town. She does her best by Cody, who was brain-damaged at birth. Their home is a cabin left by the grandfather who took them in after Willi’s husband deserted them. The book begins with a tragedy: Cody dies when his sled sends him into the path of a pickup truck as Willi chases it down a steep hill. How Willi overcomes this tragedy and confronts a dark piece of her past is the focus of this story.

There is another mother in this book, Willi’s, who unfortunately is cold, selfish, and not a help at all during this difficult time for her daughter.

THE SWEET SPOT

Edie St. Clare is a woman constantly on the go in her small town, pretty and direct. You’ll find her on weekend nights at the Do-Si-Do Bar or behind the counter of her in-law’s general store. But Edie can’t let go of an old sadness — the death of her husband in Vietnam. She and her seven-year-old daughter Amber live next to her father, a crusty guy who runs the town dump, and her wisecracking aunt. Edie’s life changes dramatically when she is caught up in the town’s biggest scandal.

THE SACRED DOG

Verona Hooker is the ex-wife of Frank Hooker, owner of the bar he named The Sacred Dog. Actually, the bar used to be named for her, but he changed it in honor of his dog, Louise, after she left him. Verona is the mother of Crystal, who Frank considers as his own daughter although the actual father is a secret she keeps. Verona fled the town of Holden to get a fresh start but returns in this book. She realizes Crystal would be better off being closer to her father. Too bad things don’t turn out that way. By the way, Verona is a character in the book I am currently writing, The Unforgiving Town, a sequel of sorts.

PEACE, LOVE AND YOU KNOW WHAT

This is the second adult novel I wrote that is not set in the fictional hilltowns of Western Massachusetts. It is inspired, sort of, by my college experience. On her last weekend in college, Lenora and her hippie friends have a three-day bash where she has a great deal of “fun” with three guys. She’s on her way to Europe after graduation. Fast forward many months to the funeral of a popular professor, and everyone is surprised when Lenora shows up with a baby. She lives in a commune in the country.

THE TWIN JINN SERIES

Mira, like the other members of her family, is a magical being in this series written for middle grade readers. A jinn or genie, she is the mother of twins who are as gifted as she is with magical powers. Elegant and wise, she and Elwin helped the family escape from their evil master. But there are challenges to remaining safe as her children are mischievous and naïve.

MY BOOKS

That gives you a quick summary of mothers in my books . Here’s the link to my books on Amazon. By the way, the flowering bushes in the photo above grow in our yard.

Standard
Writing

A Writer’s Dedication: Commitment and gratitude

Dedication. As an author I deal with two. First, there is the commitment I make to transform an idea that popped inside my head into a book. This is a process that typically takes months of sitting at my computer, letting the words come together, typically 500 a day. Then there is the self-editing that often comes midway and certainly a few times after I reach the end. You could also factor in the business end of writing, that is, getting the word out about my books.

As part of that process, there is another form — choosing who I will honor with an official dedication. What person or persons have made an impact in my life, especially my writing, in some way? It’s my official and public form of thank you.

At this point I have sixteen books published, including the most recent The Swanson Shuffle. The next, Finding the Source, the next Isabel Long Mystery, set in the fictional hilltowns of Western Massachusetts, will be released June 4.

Several books have been dedicated to family, including my husband Hank, our six children, and two grandchildren. My late mother, Algerina Medeiros, is on that list since she was a big reader and it turns out, the inspiration for Isabel Long’s mother.

Then there are friends who deserve mention. 

Teresa Dovalpage inspired me to write mysteries after I read hers — A Havana Mystery Series among others. We met in Taos, New Mexico, and I fondly remember talking and drinking Cuban coffee at her home. Teresa has encouraged me as I negotiate the publishing world.

I met Frederick Fullerton in college, and our friendship has continued these oh-so-many years with nearly daily emails, often about writing and the books we’ve read. He published two books this year, a novel, The Writer of Unwritten Books, and a collection of short stories, The Prisoner & Other Stories.

Karen Westergaard and Victor Morrill are hilltown friends who deserved to have a hilltown book dedicated to them, Northern Comfort. I have so enjoyed our conversations in their welcoming home and gardens.

John McCann and Helen James are two medical professionals who have given me wonderful healthcare. Talk about dedication.

Steve and Diane Magargal are the former owners of Liston’s Bar in Worthington, where we used to live. Nearly every Friday night, Hank and I went there for music, dancing, and comradery — a fun night out. Liston’s is the inspiration for the Rooster Bar in my Isabel Long Mystery Series, but the characters are all made up. Honest. By the way, after Steve and Diane sold the bar, it was bought by a group of locals, who tore it down and had it rebuilt. 

The Swanson Shuffle is dedicated to two teachers from my childhood — Irma Darwin and Donald Graves. 

Irma was my fourth-grade teacher who was the first to encourage me to write on my own, making up short stories and one-act plays. I assigned parts to my classmates, and we practiced at recess. Later, we performed in front of the class. I don’t remember what I wrote, but I do the feeling of using words to tell a story.

I met Donald in fifth grade when I was among the students selected from our town’s elementary schools to attend an enrichment program in science and creative writing held Wednesdays. I bet you can guess which class I preferred. Donald’s approach to creative writing was a deeper way for me to express myself. Frankly, I had to wait until I was in college to get anything similar.

So who earned a dedication for Finding the Source? It’s my secret until June 4.

Standard
The Swanson Shuffle

Who’s Who in The Swanson Shuffle

As promised in my last post, I will share info about residents who live at Swanson House — the psychiatric halfway house in my new novel, The Swanson Shuffle, which has an April 30 release. Yikes, that’s getting closer.

I confess the characters I create in my novels are real to me. I know how they look, speak, and act. That’s true of the residents who live at Swanson House.

First a little info. Except for one, the residents are former patients from a public or private mental hospital. They pay minimal rent and have a job, typically at one of the factories in town. The residents are expected to keep up with their meds and have regular visits with a shrink. They have a few household chores.

Bia Fernandes, who tells this story, gets into being their helpmate despite zero experience. She also likes the residents, actually more than the other staff members, Ben, Nina, and Paul — with good reason.

Here’s a brief look at several.

Lane is a smart 20-something who came to Swanson from an upscale private hospital when the insurance runs out. He compiles his observations in small notebooks with titles like Twisted People. This from Debbie, the staff member Bia replaces: “Lane’s a smart goofball. His folks have bucks. I don’t understand why they let him stay in a dump like this.”

Kevin, the youngest resident, maybe 18, is Lane’s sidekick. If Lane is doing something, Kevin is with him — like going on the weekly grocery trip with Bia. He’s thin, with short brown hair, ears that stick out, and really bad skin. Not much is known about his background. The kid hardly talks. He’s a listener.

Angie is one wild woman, who claims to have been a groupie to big rock stars. She doesn’t hold back on her comments or actions. As Debbie warns Bia: “Don’t believe a damn word that comes out of Angie’s mouth. She’ll brag about being a groupie. She was probably a stripper or maybe a hooker. She’s just found a good place to hide out for a while.”

Jerry is the house’s cool guy who grew up poor in a New Jersey city. He got into drugs, and all the old stuff started coming up in a troubling way. He began hearing what people were thinking, and as Debbie tells Bia, “Nothing good’s going to come from that.” Jerry has a relationship of sorts with Angie. But he has goals beyond Swanson.

Who else is at Swanson House? Alice, who is much older than the other residents, falls asleep mid-sentence. Caroleclaims doctors stole her baby. Then there is Big Jim and Little JimStanleyand Brian both have mother issues. Mark is the new guy.

Here’s a scene early in The Swanson Shuffle. Bia, who is spending the night as part of the interview process, plays cards with some of the residents.

Stanley deals me a lousy hand. No face cards, and I get low numbers and four suits. We’re playing for matchsticks. I haven’t won once although I came close when Jim’s three-of-a-kind beat my pair of aces. They tell me they used to play cards in the wards all the time.

“Don’t feel so bad,” Jerry says beside me. “We’ve had lots of practice.”

Jerry pushes against Kevin’s cards. All night he has to be told to keep them up. Kevin bats his lashes, and the skin around his acne reddens when he’s reminded.

Lane’s feet jump beneath the table and kick mine.

“What’s he got this time?” he asks.

“Never you mind,” Jerry says.

“I’ll take three,” I say.

Everybody laughs. They know I’ve got nothing, and the cards I’m dealt don’t help. I can’t even get a pair.

“Maybe we should be playing for money,” Jerry says, whistling as he lays two cards on the table.

Lane grins when he gets his.

Jim squints at him across the table. “Lane, you’d make a better poker player if you didn’t give away your cards. Don’t you know what a poker face is?”

“Poker face,” Lane says.

“Look at Kevin.” Jim nods. “He has the perfect poker face. Nobody can tell what’s going on inside. Now, if he can just keep his cards up, he’ll do fine.”

Kevin shoots Jim a grateful grin. The kid hardly talks. He’s a listener. Ben said Kevin is not quiet, he’s silent. He calls him Kevin the Spy.

I fold. Not even the best bluffer could fake their way out of this one. Jim is next, and he goes to the sink to fill the kettle for Sanka. He stands by the stove, waiting for the water to get hot enough while the others play out their hands. Jim marches in place because he takes the same drug as Lane. So does Stanley. They go every two weeks to get a shot at the hospital. They take Lane with them.

Angie enters the kitchen and begins circling the table. A bandana holds her hair, so it forms a lumpy halo around her head. She wears a long shift of paisley fabric with a v-neckline so low anybody could see her breasts.

“You gonna play all night?” Angie asks me on the third go-round.

“Why? You want to join us?”

Angie holds a square piece of paper by her side so no one else can see it. She sniggers.

“Nah, I wanna show you somethin’.”

“Hey, Jim, deal me out of the next hand,” I say. “I’ll be right back.”

Angie tips her head. She wants me to follow her into the pantry, and when I do, she yanks the pull chain on the bare bulb overhead and shuts the door. She lifts the paper.

“See. There.”

I bend closer. It’s a terrible photo of a man and woman, too dark, and whoever took it didn’t hold the camera steady. It could’ve been at a party or a bus station or any place really. I study the photo, and then Angie’s face. She thinks I should recognize these people. Angie frowns when the guys in the kitchen let out a roar. Somebody had a big hand.

“Is that you?” I ask.

“Yeah, me and Mick Jagger. It’s in New York. See his arm around me?”

I can’t see the arm, but I think I recognize her hair.

“When were you in New York?”

“When Mick was on tour. They let me go backstage. Neat, huh?”

She smiles when I tell her, “Yeah, really neat.”

Here’s the link to The Swanson Shuffle to buy as an eBook or paperback. Thank you if you do.

Standard
The Swanson Shuffle

 The Swanson Shuffle:  Bia Tells This Story 

When I began writing The Swanson Shuffle, I wanted people to experience this story along with the protagonist, Bia Fernandes. Hence, the book is written from her point of view. And I do it in present tense so the reader is discovering what will happen next along with Bia. (By the way, the official release for The Swanson Shuffle is April 30.)

So who is Bia Fernandes? Two years out of college, she wants to try something more meaningful than the job she has. So, she applies for a position living and working in a psychiatric halfway house. Here, I will let her tell you herself.

I called Swanson House after I saw an ad in an alternative weekly. The pay is $115 a week plus free room and board. No experience necessary. This job sounds more interesting than the one I now have doing piecework for a wholesale jewelry business in Cambridge. I sit at a bench soldering silver circles for eight hours, and there are only so many dangly earrings and bangle bracelets you make before you forget this job is supposed to be creative. You think of rich girls with tanned arms buying them in some beach boutique and believing they’re getting that hippie look down, but they don’t have a clue.

And I will never ever work another job that requires an apron and comfortable shoes. I did that in college, carrying trays of pizza and beer to frat brothers slumming it at a townie bar, and summers, waiting on tourists in fish joints on Cape Cod.

The halfway house takes in patients from mental hospitals, so hopefully, they can make the transition. Also, at this the time, 1974, Massachusetts was in the process of closing its mental hospitals. Many patients were released to halfway houses like Swanson House, where the staff has no experience or training.

Here’s Bia again. Another decision she is about to make is dumping her longtime boyfriend.

I think I might have this job. Even so, I haven’t given my notice yet, but I have it all mapped out in my head. I’ll bring enough to make my room comfortable and store the rest at my parents’ house. They don’t want me to work here, my kid sisters told me, but they’ll keep quiet about it. It’s their way.

My soon-to-be ex-boyfriend Danny has the same idea. He told me when we were at the New Year’s Eve party it wouldn’t be a safe place to live. One of the guys could go crazy and rape me. He asked me what I know about working with the mentally ill, that talking somebody down from a bad acid trip doesn’t count. He reminded me about the Psych 101 class I hated and how I begged the professor to give me a C, so it didn’t ruin my GPA.

Danny does have a valid point. Most of what I know about mental illness is what I’ve read in books or seen in movies like The Snake Pit, that really old one in which the actress Olivia de Havilland goes crazy, and a pipe-smoking doctor tries to figure out what went wrong in her life. Naturally, it had something to do with her childhood. When she gets better, the movie plays the song, “Going Home,” which gets me all choked up.

Actually, I’ve been to a mental hospital many times. One grandfather spent his last six years in one, not Alden, but another state hospital closer to where he lived. Every Father’s Day, we took my grandmother, who was happy to put up with her husband only once a year, to visit him. We had a picnic on the hospital grounds and brought my grandfather a carton of Lucky Strikes as a gift. He took my sisters and me to the canteen for ice cream. His friends wanted to meet us, and those men scared us.

What I like most about Bia is that tries to see the good in people. The woman she will replace calls the residents “dented cans,” as in, those dents are permanent. Bia chooses not to believe that.

Her job requires her to give rides for those residents who don’t have a car to work and doctor appointments. Bia helps them draw up the week’s menu for the house’s cook and go grocery shopping. She engages with the residents in such activities as card games, volley ball games, field trips, and watching the news about Watergate. There are weekly meetings. She and the three other staff members interview potential residents.

Bia enjoys relating with the residents. She’s actually very good at it. I will be sharing posts about those characters like Lane, who compiles his observations in small notebooks with titles like Twisted People; Angie, who claims to have been a groupie to rock stars; Jerry, the ultra-hip ex-carny; Carole, who says doctors stole her baby; and Alice, who falls asleep mid-sentence.

Here’s a scene during Bia’s weekend visit that is part of the interview process. Staff members Ben and Nina, plus the residents are having dinner together. Tonight’s menu is pancakes and sausages. Bia, who is a vegetarian, skips the sausages.

Angie drops back onto her chair, and then she gets busy using the side of her fork to cut the pancakes into soggy chunks. Her mouth is full when she says, “Bia, did I tell you I hung out in New York with Mick Jagger? Yeah, the lead singer with the Rolling Stones. Of course, you know who he is.”

Anybody who remains at the table doesn’t say a thing to cross her.

“Of course, I do. He’s a big deal,” I say.

Angie’s smiling.

“I hope they hire you,” she says loud enough for Ben at the end of the table to hear.

Is it an easy job? No. Some residents struggle badly. The three other staff members at Swanson have their own problems, especially one who gets too close to the people they are supposed to help. But it’s a meaningful experience for Bia, and I hope for those read this book.

Here’s the link to The Swanson Shuffle. Thank you.

Standard