Tonya Kappes Killer Coffee Mystery Series: A Review by E. B. Davis

 

 

Murder, gossip, and freshly brewed suspense await in this charming small-town cozy mystery!

 

Welcome to The Bean Hive Coffeehouse in Honey Springs, Kentucky, where the coffee is hot, the pastries are fresh, and the gossip could make the strongest espresso seem weak. Roxanne Bloom, a spunky lawyer-turned-barista, has swapped legal briefs for brewing beans, opening the town’s first coffeehouse on the newly revamped boardwalk. Life feels perfect as she reconnects with her quirky Aunt Maxi, old friends, and even a spark from her teenage years.

 

But when Roxy finds Alexis Roarke—the beloved bookstore owner—dead among the stacks, a dark shadow falls over Honey Springs. With Aunt Maxi at the top of the suspect list and whispers of betrayal brewing in every corner, Roxy sets out to unravel the mystery before it ruins not just her aunt's reputation, but her new life in the town she’s come to love.

 

With a cast of lovable, quirky characters, small-town charm, and twists that will keep you guessing until the last sip, Scene of the Grind is the perfect read for fans of Laura Childs, Joanne Fluke, and M.C. Beaton.

Amazon.com

 

While I’ve been ever so patiently waiting for my hip replacement operation, I’ve not been able to read anything at all dark. Which has left me with lots of cozies to read. No hardship there! One author in particular, Tonya Kappes, has several series that I’ve liked, but I never read her Killer Coffee mystery series. The series is now on Kindle Unlimited and much to my delight has seventeen books—perhaps she’ll write more. 

 

As a reader, I like the series. The books are quick reads. There are great characters. The investigation doesn’t stagnate, and the case is satisfactorily solved. As a writer, I’m amazed by the series. Why? Tonya checks off all the right “stuff” in a writer’s box and an agent’s/publisher’s successful-series bag. Almost obnoxiously so, and yet—the books don’t cloy. So, the checkmark items: smart main character (MC) with multiple talents, weird backstory, a setting from childhood remembered happily, the old beau who never stopped loving her, the old quirky ladies around town who support the MC, the pets from the rescue shelter, the MC’s emotional connections, etc. Yes, if only all of us could put together all of those cozy mystery series elements—oh did I mention the MC owns a coffee bar with baked goods and there are recipes provided at the back of the books?

 

But why do they work? Just when the old boyfriend wants to immediately get married, the MC says—but wait, it’s been twelve years. We need to get reacquainted—so let’s not rush. If these books were in the romance genre, the books would be half the lengths because the MC would cathartically swoon and then cut to the wedding. But, these are mystery books, in which the MC may own a coffee bar, but she is also a former lawyer. Ha—good one Tonya. Not just a pretty face, and she can get the attention of the police and they aren’t condescending, just a bit respectful while trying to work the investigation a step or two behind the MC.

The MC’s dog is a schnauzer. Little, but easily vexed. No, the dog seems friendly enough and isn’t big enough to fight the MC’s battles, but he isn’t a cloyingly sweet pet. He’s got just enough cajónes to snap at the bad guys and cuddle with the girls. Of course, since the MC rescues a shelter dog, the boyfriend is easily convinced to do the same. He ends up with a Standard Poodle, not exactly a guy’s dog, but in a weird way the dogs end up with the opposite sex match that seems copasetic. 

 

Oh, and then estranged Mother comes to stay in the same town she professed to hate with a grudge against the MC’s beloved aunt. And dang if Mom has the best confession that changes everything.

 

It’s a good thing that MC serves coffee all day because she needs the caffeine to keep up with her life. Her day starts at 4:30 am all the while baking, serving customers, popping out with the help covering the store for her so she can solve mysteries, keeping the romance with the boyfriend brewing, adopting a dog, serving on committees, and volunteering at the rescue shelter.

 

It's a great series to lose yourself while your patience wears as thin.     

April Fools’ Day

By James M. Jackson

Early morning March 31, 2025, I crawled into bed at home after a forty-eight-hour return trip from Leh, India, which is in the Indian Himalayan mountains region of Ladakh and ten and a half hours ahead of my home’s Central Daylight Time Zone (CDT). My flights were from Leh to Delhi to Dubai to Chicago to Madison. I caught some sleep on the Delhi to Dubai four-hour flight. I grabbed a few hours more on the fifteen-hour Dubai to Chicago leg, and that’s where I set my clock and tried to convince my body everything was now happening in CDT.

The Chicago to Madison flight was delayed an hour and a half because the crew was arriving on a plane from Raleigh-Durham, and that flight was diverted south to avoid massive thunderstorms curving from Michigan down to below St. Louis. I fought to stay awake on that flight so when I got home, I could sleep instead of being invigorated by a “nap.”

That worked. After I emptied my suitcase and took a shower, my Oura watch says I was asleep one minute after I climbed into bed. I arose at 8:00 am to keep adjusting to the CDT and after breakfast looked at my to-do list, which I had not done while on vacation.

That’s when I discovered that my first Tuesday of the month blog for Writers Who Kill was due to go live at midnight the next day, and I hadn’t paid attention to that and written this blog before I left for India. Normally, I would write about my trip and illustrate it with several of my photos—but I purposefully did not take a computer with me so I would be mindful of the special place I was visiting and not spend lots of time going through my thousands of images to find the best ones.

What to write then? Well, it is April Fools’ Day, so I thought I would share an April Fools’ joke created by George Plimpton, a wonderful sports writer who is best known for his realistic accounts of competing against professional athletes of various sports.

For the April 1, 1985 edition of Sports Illustrated, he wrote a story “The Curious Case of Sidd Finch.”[i] Sidd was a reclusive 28-year-old Harvard dropout, trained by Buddhist monks. He was fluent in Sanskrit, played the French horn, and impressively could hurl a baseball at 168 miles per hour. (To understand how ludicrous this is, Aroldis Chapman threw the fastest recorded pitch on September 24, 2010, a blazing 105.8 mph.)

Back to the story, in which Plimpton reported the Mets had given Sidd a secret tryout. The Mets went along with the prank and allowed players and coaches to be photographed with a middle school art teacher who posed as Sidd.

The subhead of the piece should have given the joke away with its absurdity and initial letters spelling out April Fools’ Day (He’s a pitcher, part yogi and part recluse. Impressively liberated from our opulent life-style, Sidd’s deciding about yoga.)

How could anyone fall for that? Well, the article purportedly led other teams to contact the Mets to learn more about this mysterious new phenom.

What’s your favorite April Fools’ Joke?

---

[i] Sidd Finch: A pitcher, part yogi and part recluse. - Sports Illustrated https://www.si.com/mlb/2014/10/15/curious-case-sidd-finch 

James M. Jackson authors the Seamus McCree series. Full of mystery and suspense, these thrillers explore financial crimes, family relationships, and what happens when they mix. To learn more information about Jim and his books, check out his website, https://jamesmjackson.com. You can sign up for his newsletter (and get to read a free Seamus McCree short story).

Just Hangin' - The History of the Humble Coat Hanger by Nancy L. Eady

Today, we will take a brief respite from talking about writing to discuss useless information you can use to impress friends or colleagues at cocktail parties. Or better yet, maybe one of your characters can use the information to impress their friends, enemies or colleagues when necessary. 

In the first Indiana Jones movie, there is a wonderful scene where the heroine, who has been taken captive by the Germans, is seated in a tent when the chief questioner for the German walks in. With ominous music flowing in the background, she stares up at him in horror as he pulls out a heavy piece of metal, divides it into three sections, pops it outwards, then slowly assembles it—into a coat hanger. Everyone in the theater grinned as they shared a collective sigh of relief. Have you ever wondered who came up with the coat hanger? 

Several websites (all of whom, I think, were copying Wikipedia’s entry) say that Thomas Jefferson was believed to have invented a forerunner of the wooden clothes hanger. However, the foremost authority on all things Thomas Jefferson, the Monticello website, disagrees. According to the Monticello website, there is no evidence that Thomas Jefferson invented the individual clothes hangers similar to what we use today, but he did invent the most ingenious closet gadget which allowed him to hang and access over 48 sets of coats, waistcoats and other clothing with ease. The device, alas, has not withstood the ravages of time. 

One of the first patents for a device similar to today’s coat hangers was issued in 1869 to O.A. North, from New Britain, Connecticut. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to find that patent or the drawing that should be with the patent—records that old at the United States Patent Office are listed by year, classification and patent number only rather than by key word. Over 13,000 patents were issued in 1869 alone!

Until 1903, coat hangers were made of wood supported by other materials. The ubiquitous wire coat hanger was first designed by Albert J. Parkhouse in 1903. Parkhouse was an employee of the Timberlake Wire and Novelty Company in Jackson, Michigan. His co-employees were unhappy because the company did not have enough coat hooks, so many of their heavy winter coats would fall to the floor during their work shift. Mr. Parkhouse grabbed a length of wire, twisted it so that one end had a hook on it, there were two ovals below that, and then the other end of the wire twisted around the stem of the hook.

In keeping with the custom of the day, Parkhouse’s employer, Timberlake, patented the idea and reaped the profits. After a few years, Albert Parkhouse (perhaps realizing that it is cold in Michigan in winter and not that cold somewhere else) moved his family to Los Angeles, where he started his own wire novelty company. He died at 48 from a ruptured ulcer.

Over the years, other patents have been issued for designs that improved the original one, to where today the variety of coat hangers is expanded. However, the wire coat hanger is the champion of them all, beloved by dry cleaners everywhere and collecting (or breeding, I find more likely) in our closets in prolific amounts.

Do you have any useless information you feel like sharing today? 

Justice, Not Forgiveness: Why I Write About the Cost of Revenge

By Janelle Marie

Somewhere along the way, I stopped believing that forgiveness is always the answer. Maybe you have, too. Maybe you’ve looked at the world—at the headlines that make no sense, at the way justice often feels like a privilege rather than a right—and you’ve thought: What if I were in their shoes? What if I lost everything? What if the system failed me?

That’s the space where my writing belongs.

I came to fiction later in life. I spent years carrying stories inside me, but I didn’t start writing them down until I turned sixty. By then, I had lived long enough to understand how easily the world can turn cruel, how quickly everything can be taken from you. And I had met people—real people—who didn’t have the luxury or ability to “move on.”

That’s why I wrote Eternal Ashes, the first in my five-book thriller series about justice, vengeance, and what both can cost.

The Making of an Avenger

At the heart of my series is Sofie. She isn’t a detective, a lawyer, or a vigilante with years of training. She’s a mother, a woman who built a life she loved—until it was stolen from her. And when the system offers her nothing but hollow words and legal dead ends, she decides to take matters into her own hands.

Sofie’s story isn’t just about revenge; it’s about survival. It’s about the choices we make when there are no good ones left. It’s about what justice looks like when the law fails to provide it, and you feel like you must build your own justice.

I’ve always been drawn to stories about people who refuse to be victims. Crime fiction is full of brilliant detectives and relentless prosecutors, but I’m fascinated by the ones who don’t have a badge or a rulebook—just a fire burning in their chest that they can't ignore, and a line they’re willing to cross.

But there’s always a cost.

The Thin Line Between Justice and Vengeance

As I write this series, I find myself asking uncomfortable questions. How far would I go for justice? When does revenge stop being righteous and start being something else—something darker? How do you tell the difference? 

Those are the questions Sofie faces throughout the Ash & Rage series. Her journey doesn’t end with a single act of vengeance. That’s why this is a five-book series, not a standalone. Each installment digs deeper into the consequences of her choices. Each book pushes her further into the shadows, forcing her to confront the person she’s becoming.

Because justice isn’t clean. And sometimes, once you step into the fire, there’s no coming back.

Why I Write About This

There’s a reason stories about revenge resonate with so many of us. We live in a world where justice often feels out of reach. Where the guilty sometimes walk free and the innocent can suffer. Where grief builds when there’s no resolution, no accountability.

Fiction lets us explore what real life so often denies us: the chance to do something. To see someone fight back. To make the guilty pay.

But revenge isn’t a fairytale. It’s messy. It changes people. And that’s what I want to explore in this series—not just the satisfaction of retribution, but what it really costs.

I write for those who have ever felt powerless. For those who have ever wondered what they would do if they had nothing left to lose. And for those who, like me, don’t always believe that forgiveness is the only path forward.

Justice doesn’t always come wrapped in a neat little package. Sometimes, it has sharp, sharp teeth.

And sometimes, that’s the only kind that matters.

You can learn more about Janelle Marie and buy her book at:

Website: www.janelle-marie.com

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/223500016-eternal-ashes

Book link: https://books2read.com/u/mKkdr5

From Celebrities to Criminals: Gay and Lesbian Performers in the Roaring Twenties

by Skye Alexander

“The job at Marco’s restaurant seemed a godsend. Best of all was the dapper piano player who entertained diners on Friday and Saturday nights. Smitten by his panache, talent, and sleek good looks, Lizzie flirted with him shamelessly. But although he was friendly enough, he never encouraged her affection. It took her longer than it should have to figure out why.” – Running in the Shadows

When I started writing Never Try to Catch a Falling Knife, the first book in my Lizzie Crane Jazz Age mystery series set in the mid-1920s, I decided to make the pianist in my protagonist singer’s band gay. That would enable them to work together companionably, without the complications of a romantic relationship. I also saw this as an opportunity to depict a close friendship between a gay man and a straight woman, especially in Running in the Shadows, the fourth book in my series in which the pianist’s former lover is murdered and he’s a suspect. Additionally, I enjoyed creating tension between Lizzie’s beau and her friend, showing the two men’s initial suspicion of each other and their jealousy, but not in the ordinary sense.

As the series evolved, I became interested in how people at that time viewed homosexuals–– men and women both––and what challenges they faced. During the early part of the Roaring Twenties in Manhattan, where my characters live, the subject of homosexuality gained popularity in novels, plays, and nightclub acts. Harlem’s Rockland Palace’s Hamilton Lodge hosted elaborate drag balls that drew thousands of attendees including high-society notables. New York’s prestigious Savoy, the Astor Hotel, and Madison Square Garden held drag beauty contests. Cross-dressing men and women performed in Times Square and Greenwich Village as well, during what was known as the “Pansy Craze.” 

Then in 1927, the State Legislature banned the appearance and discussion of gay men and lesbians onstage. Musicians, actors, and others risked having their careers ruined if their sexual preference became known. Anti-sodomy laws had been on the books in all states in the US since the end of the Revolutionary War, but now police earnestly enforced those laws. People found guilty of engaging in non-reproductive sex were sentenced to prison––up to ten years in New York, twenty in Massachusetts. The laws weren’t repealed nationwide until a Supreme Court decision in 2003.

When I began writing my fifth book in the series When the Blues Come Calling (scheduled for September 2025 release from Level Best Books), I learned that on June 11, 1926, police raided a Greenwich Village teahouse known as Eve’s Hangout, owned by a lesbian couple, Eva Kotchever and Ruth Norlander. Popular with artists, writers, and intellectuals including Anais Nin, Henry Miller, and Emma Goldman, the nightspot had become a haven for lesbians and counterculture types. Supposedly, a sign at the entrance said “Men admitted, but not welcome.” Police confiscated a self-published book of stories written by Kotchever (aka Eve Adams), titled Lesbian Love. She was arrested, found guilty of obscenity, and imprisoned in Welfare Island’s workhouse. Seventeen months later, she was deported to her native Poland, and in 1943 she died in an Auschwitz concentration camp. 

Her story became part of my book, for surely if my characters had been real people they would have known Eve Adams and frequented the teahouse. Not only did relating her sad fate allow me to share a story of discrimination unknown to most people outside Manhattan, it also gave me a chance to depict a friendship between my straight heroine and a notorious lesbian, at a time when such relationships could be dangerous.

Currently, I’m working on the seventh book in my Lizzie Crane mystery series, which centers on NYC’s fashion industry in 1927. As my tale unfolds, I expect to discover more about the prejudices LBGTQ+ individuals faced a century ago and how some of those problems still exist today.

About the Author

Skye Alexander is the author of nearly fifty fiction and nonfiction books. Her stories have appeared in anthologies internationally, and her work has been translated into fifteen languages. In 2003, she cofounded Level Best Books with fellow crime writers Kate Flora and Susan Oleksiw. So far, her Lizzie Crane mystery series includes four traditional historical novels set in the Jazz Age: Never Try to Catch a Falling Knife, What the Walls Know, The Goddess of Shipwrecked Sailors, and Running in the Shadows. The fifth, When the Blues Come Calling, is scheduled for release in September 2025 and she’s working on the seventh book now. After living in Massachusetts for thirty-one years, Skye now makes her home in Texas. Visit her at https://skyealexander.com

Vanity Plates by Nancy L. Eady

When I was a young attorney, one of my mentors told me that a good question to put on every juror questionnaire (in those courts where they’re allowed) is “Does the juror have a bumper sticker on the car and if so, what is it about?” The reason, he told me, was that someone had to believe strongly in something to be willing to slap a bumper sticker about it on their car. I suspect that’s even truer about vanity license plates (some of you may call them personalized plates.) 

I have a love/hate relationship with them. I’ve never understood the attraction; why pick a license plate that will make it easy for the police or other drivers you might irritate to remember who you are? On the other hand, I’m always intrigued to figure out the hidden message the owner wants to convey in seven symbols at seventy miles an hour. 

Mark had his third surgery on his knee last week. This time it was a “complete revision.” That means they took out the new knee from December and replaced it with a different one less prone to infection. He spent four days in the hospital, and I wound up spending more time than usual either in the parking garage at the hospital or on the road, so I started writing down some of the vanity plates that caught my eye. 

SOROR is an old friend. She (I think of the owner as “she” because I think SOROR stands for sorority) parks on the parking row ahead of me, which is on a hill above my car, so I see SOROR almost every day. The plate hangs out on a nifty white two-door Mercedes Benz convertible. 

Some plates are easy to figure out. CMEFLY probably wasn’t the smartest choice if you don’t want the police to notice you if you’re speeding. I did wonder who VNGNCE has it in for, and whether JCB IV stands for JCB’s fourth car, or whether JCB is the fourth JCB. Football fans have their fair share of plates, too; those of us familiar with the SEC can figure out GODOGS on the special Georgia license plates that State of Alabama offers for purchase, and MES4UA on the compatible University of Alabama plates is self-explanatory. 

TIPP RN was halfway hard – I guessed that TIPP is a nurse, but I can’t figure out what TIPP might stand for. All I can think of is “Tippecanoe and Tyler too” and I’m 99.99% sure that’s NOT what the real TIPP is thinking about. 4DABOYS is enigmatic; I get that it means “for the boys,” but is the car for the boys of the family to use, and if so, what do the girls get to drive? Or does it mean something else?

Others were more obscure, including 58ANUMY, JILARU, GPS865, A1HDHM and RYBKA3. I’d appreciate any thoughts on those you care to share.  

Have you ever thought about using a vanity plate as a tool to help paint the portrait of a character? I don’t think I’ve ever seen it done, but like a bumper sticker — only more expensive—the vanity plates tell the viewer what the owner of the plate cares about. 

You Did What?? Using the Unexpected in Crime Fiction by Connie Berry

 

Authors of crime fiction face a number of challenges when our sleuths are not police professionals. Witnesses aren’t required to speak to them or to cooperate in any way. They can’t arrest anyone or threaten the bad guys with fines or jail time. There’s no badge to give them authority or organized back-up to call on when the situation spins out of control.

So what techniques can our characters use to deal with a bad guy who’s hostile and potentially dangerous? I faced this problem in my current WIP, A Grave Deception, the sixth Kate Hamilton Mystery (December 9, 2025). What psychological techniques could Kate use to deal with a belligerent and lethal adversary?

If you Google the problem (as I did), you’ll be told the secret is to build rapport. Fine if you have all the time in the world. But what if your sleuth must act immediately? That was my dilemma.

Fortunately, I remembered something I heard at a writers’ conference years ago. A panelist mentioned a story he’d heard on National Public Radio [Invisibilia, July 21,  2016] about coping with an unexpected attack. Here's what I remember of the story:

    One warm summer night, a group of friends was having a backyard picnic when a man burst in, wielding a gun and shouting, "Give me your money or I'll start shooting." Naturally everyone froze, and the worst part was no one actually had any money at the time. The night was sure to end in disaster until one of the women spoke up: "You look like you're having a bad day,” she said. “Would you like to join us? Sit down. Have a glass of wine." 

    Like flipping a switch, the look on the man's face changed. He put his gun in his pocket, sat down, and accepted a glass of wine. "This is good wine," he said, and then, "I think I've come to the wrong place." Later he asked, "Can I get a hug?" Several people hugged him. Then he apologized and walked out, carrying the glass of wine, which they found, placed carefully on the sidewalk.

The psychological technique used by this brave woman is called “non-complementary behavior.” The explanation is simple.

Complementary behavior means people tend to mirror each other. If someone treats you warmly, you are warm back. If they display hostility, you respond with hostility.

Non-complementary behavior means reacting in an unexpected way—breaking the pattern. Conflict is inevitable, but how we respond is powerful. Flipping the switch.

I’d used this technique before, I realized, in the second Kate Hamilton mystery, A Legacy of Murder, when one of the characters—Lady Barbara Finchley-fforde—responds to a crisis with non-complementary behavior. Her unexpected response is the pivot point that leads to the resolution of the crisis. I didn't have a name for it at the time. Now I do, and this time Kate used the technique.

Game-changer. 

Have you experienced—or demonstrated—non-complementarity? What was the result? How might you

use the concept in your WIP?

A G.G. Kind of Day, Guest Post by Lynda Allen

 Menopause. 

There, I said it. When I started going through perimenopause nine or ten years ago (who can remember?), no one wanted to talk about it. Seemingly out of nowhere I was a completely different person than I had been. I’d spent years developing a personal practice of meditation and peace. I was happy with the person I was. Then I began to transform into a grumpy, angry person I didn’t recognize. I didn’t know at first that it had anything to do with perimenopause. I hate to admit it, but I wasn’t even familiar with the word. All I knew was I had become a much grumpier version of myself, and I didn’t like this new me very much. 

 

Once I realized what triggered the mood swings, I tried talking to friends about it. Crickets. No one wanted to discuss it. Not even my doctor. In the end, I did two things that helped transform the perimenopause/menopause journey for me. First, I gave my moody personality a nickname, Grumpy Gal, or G.G. for short. Naming her gave me a way to bring some lightness and humor to the situation, and it also gave me a way to warn my husband about the kind of day I was having. I could just tell him, “I’m having a G.G. kinda day,” and he'd know what to expect, which meant mostly to stay out of my way. The second thing I did was write about my experience.

 

I’d been contemplating writing a mystery for some time, and while pondering story ideas, I had a menopause inspiration. I decided if I had to put up with hot flashes every day (which I still do) and put up with G.G. on a regular basis, I would make good use of them both. Rather than letting menopause drain away who I had worked hard to become along with my sanity, I decided to harness it with humor and honesty. I asked myself, “What if menopause gave a woman a superpower?” From this, the Liv Wilde Mysteries were born. 

 

While I wanted to write the kind of stories I love to read, I also wanted to find a way to provide a spark for conversations about menopause among women. So, I set out to do both. In the series, Liv experiences hot flash induced psychic visions which help her solve mysteries. Finally, a way to make hot flashes useful! They aren’t all that useful for Liv when they first begin, but with the input of her circle of women friends, she gradually learns to understand and interpret her visions to aid others and to solve mysteries. 

 

Each book in the series features a dinner party that Liv and her friends refer to as their “Monthly.” Their gatherings provide opportunities for them to address the menopause-related issues they are in various stages of facing. It was important to me for them to have a space to talk with honesty and humor about what women deal with as they get older. Plus, it’s such fun to write their conversations about the aging process. 

 

Now, menopause is (forgive me) a hot topic in the zeitgeist. I’m grateful we have reached a point where the topic is being discussed more openly. Perhaps Liv and her friends may even feel safe enough to talk about menopause outside of their Monthlies. For now, I hope the stories will entertain and provide fodder for conversation. 

 

Let’s kick off the conversation here with two questions. What would you nickname your perimenopause/menopause personality? What superpower do you wish menopause would give you?

 

Lynda Allen is the author of the Liv Wilde Mysteries in which menopause is a superpower.
Lynda proudly infuses her writing with her Jersey Girl sensibilities and aims to create stories imbued with heart and humor. She lives in Fredericksburg, VA, where her mysteries are set, with her husband, their cat, and the many incredible eagle friends who pay them frequent visits. When she’s not writing about hot flash-induced psychic visions, she also writes poetry and is an artist. 

 

Website: https://www.lyndaallenwrites.com

Newsletter: https://mailchi.mp/27b1d7f287b7/flashes-of-insight

Tracing an (Un)common Thread by Martha Reed

One of the side benefits of reaching my ‘advanced age’ is the hindsight perspective that naturally developed.

When I started my writing life, I set my John and Sarah Jarad Nantucket Mysteries series in the world I knew mostly because I was a newbie author learning how to construct an 85,000 word novel and the idea of also creating an entirely brave new world setting was simply too daunting. I distinctly remember thinking that relying on the constraints of an island setting would be helpful since my characters couldn’t wander off.

With the Nantucket series I explored the superficial themes I already knew: revealing deep dark family secrets; overcoming class prejudices and distinctions, and searching for a place to call home. I plucked my characters wholesale from the WASPy New England setting. I trimmed out the slang and the cussing. Everything about writing these Nantucket Mysteries felt as comfortable as slipping into my favorite pair of slippers.

But once I had the craft mechanics of writing a novel under my belt, I got restless. I felt the need to push myself in a new direction, to explore more meaningful and topical themes and subjects. I mentioned this new restlessness to a sympathetic friend at the 2014 Long Beach Bouchercon convention. She took one look at my Wonder Bread cookie cutter characters and suggested that I explore adding some diversity, and she was right.

Next came an intriguing new consideration: Who were my new diverse characters going to be?

And so my disgraced ex-detective Jane Byrne blew into New Orleans on her Ducati motorcycle. First thing she does is run smack dab into Gigi Pascoe, my true force of nature transgender sleuth.

At the time I thought I was being very creative and original inventing Gigi Pascoe, as if I’d made Gee up out of whole cloth all on my own. Then a recent Facebook pop-up ad reminded me of the Julie Andrews and James Garner movie Victor/Victoria which I know I saw with some college friends in 1982. Rewatching the classic movie on Netflix reminded me of how much I’d loved it. Spoiler: Julie Andrews plays a woman disguised as man disguised as a woman to survive. Here’s a fun clip: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j6bAIylJx4s

Talk about gender fluidity! After the rewatch I wondered: Had that movie planted an early and forgotten seed in my subconscious mind? Once posed, that question dropped me down a deeper rabbit hole to a Science Fiction class I took at the University of Missouri in 1977. From that syllabus I remember reading Ursula K. Le Guin’s stunningly brilliant novel The Left Hand of Darkness. In that story an alien human emissary is assigned to Winter, a world where the inhabitants can change genders.

This book was so impactful that although it’s been almost five decades and probably a dozen cross-country storage moves, and the binding glue has dried out and the pages are loose, I’ve kept my paperback student copy in my personal library.

Holy heck. How far back did this gender fluid character suggestion go?

How about you? Are there any character traits or settings that you consitently look for or use?

Teen Girls by Nancy L. Eady

When my sisters and I were navigating our teens, my mother would say (outside of our hearing) that every 13- and 14-year-old girl should be marooned on a shrinking ice floe. After I had my own 14-year-old girl, I understood what she meant. In the middle of all the angst of my daughter’s 14^th year (she’s 23 now) I wrote this poem: 

To All Frustrated Parents of Teens

The 14-year-old mind
Is a strange, wondrous thing;
No one can account
For the thoughts which it springs.

One moment high fashion
Has it enthralled;
The next, finding rations
Puts flights to all else.

It has not a filter,
At best, one too late;
Arguments it adores
Much too much to forsake.

It wades only in shallows,
Concerns chill it not,
Yet strong loves wells deepen,
As do new, wondering thoughts.

When its parents despair
Through long suffering in vain
That wisdom shall ever
Elude this young brain,
A small touch on their shoulder,
A hug in the mall,
A smile on a cold day,
A kindness, too small
To affect fates of nations,
But which heartens those close,
A keen observation that
Will pierce other's boasts,
Reminds family present
That hope is not lost.

This mind will grow wiser
With the age of its host.

Have you tried writing a teenaged character? What challenges and rewards have you found in doing so?

Sleuthing Safely by Guest Blogger Edith Maxwell

Be sure to read all the way to the bottom for a giveaway!

Thanks so much to Annette for inviting me over to celebrate next week’s release of Scone Cold Dead! I’m thrilled that my thirteenth Country Store Mystery will finally be out in the world. 

It’s no spoiler to tell you that protagonist Robbie Jordan is weeks away from giving birth to her first baby. And since this is the Writers Who Kill blog, by extension it’s also the “Writers Who Write Characters Who Catch Killers” blog, right? 

I have been eight-plus months pregnant twice, although it’s been a few decades. I can tell you, if I had to be amateur sleuthing and getting myself into predicaments while waddling around as big as a house, that killer would not have been caught. (As a short person, I was delighted to eat for two from day one. Trust me. Gaining fifty pounds on a relatively slim pre-pregnant five-foot-one frame does, in fact, make one resemble a house.) 

The Country Store Mysteries are gentle, cozy, foodie mysteries. My unwritten contract with my readers says I won’t seriously imperil Robbie’s life, justice will be done, and equilibrium will be restored to the community. So, how did I keep Robbie safe as she tries to figure out who killed the stranger in her Aunt Adele’s sheep pasture? 

For one thing, Robbie never ventures into dark basements or tunnels alone or with anyone else. That said, in one scene she does a lot of prep in the restaurant for the next day. She locks up and walks to her car, which is parked near the barn behind her country store. This book takes place in mid-November, and it’s dark by five-thirty in Indiana. The motion-detector light times out, and she fumbles with her gloves on for her phone. When she glances up, she spots a man standing next to her car. 

Her newly found Mama Bear instincts assert themselves, and she resolves the situation safely. After that, her husband Abe begs to let him drive her to work and home, which she refuses. She does promise to park in a valuable customer spot near the front door in full view of the street and lit by the streetlight. Even then she is confronted by someone who seems threatening. Robbie’s Mama Bear rears up again, making the person drive away. Later, smart Robbie further resolves to travel about in only in full daylight. 

There’s another scene where Robbie stops during the day to check out something unusual that she spots next to an abandoned house on a country road. 

I slowed at a derelict two-story brick farmhouse on my right. The west-facing building sat alone next to a field of stubby cut cornstalks. Its four ground-floor windows and center-placed door were boarded up. 

But when something spooks her, she drives away. Playing it safe whenever possible, she doesn’t return until she has company in the form of her long-time friend Lou, who is back for a visit. 

Let’s hope our sleuth has learned a thing or two. Counting the two novellas along the way, “Christmas Cocoa and a Corpse” and “Murderous Mittens,” this is her fifteenth case – and my thirty-sixth published novel! 

Readers: What tricky situations have you gotten yourself out of? Do you play things safe when you might face danger or run toward it? I’d love to send one commenter a copy of the new book. 

***

In Scone Cold Dead, country store and café owner Robbie Jordan is just weeks away from giving birth, and it seems Robbie and her husband, dad-to-be Abe, aren’t the only ones grappling with anxiety. A stranger is causing a stir in town and Robbie’s Aunt Adele appears unusually preoccupied at the baby shower. But when someone finds a body in the ram field on Adele’s sheep farm, it’s Robbie’s turn to be worried. Especially after Chief Buck Bird uncovers a troubling link between Adele and the possible murder victim. Robbie has no choice but to knit the clues together and solve this mystery before anything else gets flocked up . . . 

Maddie Day writes the Country Store Mysteries, the Cozy Capers Book Group Mysteries, the Cece Barton Mysteries, and the historical Dot and Amelia Mysteries. As besotted first-time Grammy Edith Maxwell, she writes the Agatha-Award winning historical Quaker Midwife Mysteries and short crime fiction. She’s a member of Mystery Writers of America and a proud lifetime member of Sisters in Crime. Maxwell/Day lives north of Boston with her beau and their cat Martin, where she writes, cooks, gardens, and wastes time on Facebook. Find her at her web site, at WickedAuthors.com, and at Mystery Lovers’ Kitchen

Seven Deadly Writer Sins

 by Kait Carson

I may have to borrow from Jimmy Buffett here if I run out of ideas, but hey, Jimmy, I remember you crooning at Bubbas, so ‘nuff said. Those of you who did not go to or hang out at the University of Miami in the early 1970s will have to make up your own stories. No, I did not know Jimmy Buffett, although I spent a lot of time listening to him when he played at Bubbas. I liked his style and Bubbas was across the street from my dorm. I did meet him one night in Sint Maarten. I was recovering from dengue fever, didn’t recognize him. When he introduced himself, I thought he was pulling my leg, and when he crooned Margaritaville just for me, I told him not to quit his day job. I doubt he’d ever thought of it again, but it’s a memory I cherish. Jimmy, I’m glad you didn’t take my advice, but a cappella? You didn’t sound like you!

How does that relate to writing? “Bank of Bad Habits” just played on my Spotify account and I realized writers have their own seven deadly sins. Thanks again, Jimmy, for the spark of inspiration.

#1 Thou shall not head hop. 

“What is head hopping?” Mavis asked. 

How can she not know? Peter wondered. She does it all the time. 

Jack shook his head in amazement and bit his tongue. Those two would argue over which way to screw in a lightbulb. 

“I have whiplash,” Kait moaned.

#2 Thou shalt not hide clues from your readers.

The key to keeping your books from hitting the wall when readers get to the end is to always play fair. This is harder than it sounds. When the sleuth stumbles across, uncovers, or develops a clue, the reader needs to have the information at precisely the same moment, even if they don’t realize the importance of the event. As a writer, I always feel as if a kick line of Rockettes is surrounding the fireworks shooting neon colored clue. My beta readers generally don’t have the same impression and only have the head-slapping aha moment at the end of the book when it all comes together.

#3 Thou shalt not make thy victim a saint.

Everyone has good and bad points. While the victim does not have to have a fatal flaw, he or she needs to be flawed enough to be a believable human. Those flaws may or may not be the reason he needs killin’, but they will generate empathy with your readers.

#4 Thou shalt not make thy criminal Satan.

Even a murderer’s dog loves him. See above for good and bad points. It’s essential that your criminal is human, and can hide in plain sight among the suspects, which brings me to number 5.

#5. Thou shalt not point thy finger at only one suspect.

Multiple suspects are required. Draw them out as if they are each the perpetrator and give every suspect motive, means, and opportunity. No one did this better than the two Dames, Agatha Christie and PD James. 

#6 Thou shalt not forget to resolve thy red herrings.

I read a book once that had more loose ends than my first attempt at knitting. Suffice it to say, I did not pick up another by that author. So, even if you don’t have a solution for a particular red herring (and there are times when life can imitate art) honor your reader and have your protagonist at least acknowledge it.

#7 Thou shalt not forget that writing is best accomplished in anticipation of chocolate and wine, or the libation of your choice.

There’s got to be some reward for long hours of sweating blood over your keyboard. A treat at the end of the day is a great motivator.

Writers, do you have a different list of sins? 

Readers, do you notice writerly transgressions?

Kait Carson writes the Hayden Kent Mysteries set in the Fabulous Florida Keys and is at work on a new mystery set in her adopted state of Maine. Her short fiction has been nationally published in True Romance, True Confessions, True Story, True Experience, and Woman’s World magazines. Her short story, Gutted, Filleted, and Fried, appeared in the Falchion Finalist nominated Seventh Guppy Anthology Hook, Line, and Sinker. She is a former President of the Guppy Chapter of Sisters in Crime, a member of Sisters in Crime, and Guppies. Visit her website at www.kaitcarson.com. While you’re there, sign up for her newsletter and receive a yummy, authentic, key lime pie recipe. 

Priesthood of the Disposal of Unwanted Critters by Nancy L. Eady

 Have you ever noticed the many hierarchies that surround us? A simple example is the hierarchy of the line—the first person in line goes first, the second person gets to go next, etc. There are even a few of us who will, on occasion, step forward to correct a person who dares to challenge the hierarchy by cutting in line. Such an event follows the principle of proportional palatability – the chances of being corrected, and the violence used in said correction, are directly proportional to the amount of time spent in line and the importance of the item the line is for.

At our house, we have hierarchies too. The Priesthood of the Disposal of Unwanted Critters is one of them.

The first and foremost High Priest of the Disposal of Unwanted Critters is Mark. If he is home, the hierarchy stops there. I’m not sure where the rule is set out – in the United States Code, the Code of Alabama, the Eleventh Commandment, the United Nations Charter or the Code of Hammurabi – but somewhere it says that the male of the house shall remove all unwanted critters, dead or alive, from the household if he is at home. It makes perfect sense to me and Kayla, although Mark may not agree. Unfortunately, unwanted critters are notoriously inconsiderate, and they do appear when Mark is not around.

When it comes to killing and removing spiders and roaches, if Kayla and I are home alone, I become the High Priestess of the Disposal of Unwanted Critters.  And I hate killing spiders and roaches – not because I think they deserve to live in peace, but because deep down I know that at any minute they can grow taller than a house and kill me along with all that I love or, even worse, actually fly (roach) or run (spider) on me. I was over 40 before I ever killed one – and that out of desperation because Kayla and I were alone.

Over the years, we have owned eight dogs. Only one of them cared about birds. Mandy was an unusual dog anyhow: a basset hound/husky mix. She had many personality quirks, one of which was killing any bird brave enough to venture onto the screened-in porch. The first time it happened, Kayla and I weren’t quick enough, and in less than ten seconds, the poor mockingbird that had, alas, strayed from its normal habitat onto the porch, was lying on its back with its feet straight up in the classical dead bird pose. Kayla showed up right afterwards, having heard the scuffle. I was shivering with the willies and asked her what we were going to do with the bird. She rolled her eyes, at which point she was appointed Acolyte in charge of the Disposal of Dead Birds, which she did with aplomb. Alas, she refuses to take on the mantle of High Priestess to deal with spiders and roaches, leaving me stuck with the job if Mark is not present. 

How do you use hierarchies in your writing, or do you?

Getting Edited, An Inside View by Marilyn Levinson

Sending a completed manuscript to my editor is always a joyful occasion. Finally, my novel is finished and after going over it three times, I know it's in pretty good shape. After writing twenty-three books, I'm attuned to the pacing, my characters' development, the complexities of the mystery, and other aspects of the plot. Still, I'm handing over the novel I've been working on for nearly a year. This action renders me completely vulnerable as, with open arms, I tell my editor "Have at it. Edit me, criticize and correct me so this book will appear before readers in its best possible form.

A month ago, I sent my editor Death On Dickens Island, the first book in my new series. Creating all new characters in a setting I'd invented required a good deal of work, much more than writing a second or any follow up novel in a series where everything is already established. I was used to being edited "lightly"-- asked to add a line or two to explain a character's action or to delete lines where I repeated myself -- but this book, which my editor and both wanted to get just right, required more.

She asked me to elaborate a bit regarding the impact my sleuth's short marriage had on her and why she'd left her son in her parents' care for twelve years. I was going to bring in my sleuth's best friend from high school in the next book, but my editor thought it best to bring her in earlier, and so I did. There was an issue regarding a legal matter I agreed it best to change, and to make a character a suspect, at least for a short time.

The problem that took the most time to correct was fixing the sequence of days. For some reason, while writing I lose track of the days of the week and I'd managed to skip a few. To resolve this problem, I ended up extending the time frame another week. But that was fine, and it gave me the opportunity to include my sleuth's outing with her old friend. I'm ashamed to admit that this is the second book I've written where I lost track of the days and had to rework them. My editor assured me that I'm not the only author to do this. At least I didn't change any character's name midbook as I've done once or twice in the past.

I addressed all the points my editor had questioned and felt needed attention, and they passed with flying colors. Now I await the Copy Editor's corrections, which center around comma usage and words I'm never certain if they're a compound word, two words, or hyphenated words. But that's some weeks off. Getting edited is a vital step in the process. It helps to assure that readers will receive my novel in its best possible form.

New Series For Heather Weidner By E. B. Davis

 

Veronica Mars meets The Golden Girls as event planner Cassidy Jamison and her four sixty-year-old employees race to solve a rocker’s murder before the curtains close on their show and their business.

 

When Cassidy Jamison inherited her late grandmother’s event planning business, she also inherited her grandmother’s friends—four sixty-year-old women known around town as the Pearly Girls—as part-time employees. Now Cassidy barely has time to breathe between spending every waking hour trying to keep her business afloat and the Pearly Girls out of trouble and focused on event planning.

 

So when she lands a three-weekend event complete with a chart-topping band, she’s thrilled. Until she and her chihuahua mix Elvis find the body of the Weathermen’s lead singer in her venue’s koi pond. With the help of the not-so-helpful Pearly Girls, Cassidy must stave off the bad publicity, navigate the prying questions of the local police department, and solve the murder before the media frenzy shutters her business for good, and takes one of the Pearly Girls with it.

Amazon.com

 

Heather Weidner’s Murder Strikes A Chord is a strong start for a new series. It’s a cozy mystery set in the Virginia mountains featuring a likeable main character, Cassidy Jamison, who often must untangle the messes of her late grandmother’s friends, the Pearly Girls, whose heydays were in the 1970s and 1980s. She has a dog, Elvis, who needs walks. This shouldn’t be a problem, but with a 70s era rock band living temporarily on her event property in trailers, Elvis finds trouble without shaking a paw.

 

Weddings and corporate events may cause trouble, but an oldies rock festival spread over three weekends starts with murder.  Cassidy must investigate to clear the Pearly Girls and the reputation of her business while dealing with a condescending county Deputy.

 

Please welcome WWK blogger Heather Weidner.       E. B. Davis

You had described Ivy Springs as being nearby Harrisonburg and Staunton, but then it took Cassidy over two hours to get from Ivy Springs to Harrisonburg. Where is Ivy Springs? Ivy Springs is a fictitious town in the Blue Ridge Mountains between the Waynesboro/Staunton area and Harrisonburg. Cassidy’s property has a wonderful view of the nearby mountains and the valley. Interstate traffic is iffy along the I-81 corridor, and the locals often take the backroads, and depending on that traffic it can take much longer than the zippy speeds of interstate driving.

 

The name of the main band headlining the three-weekend festival is the Weathermen. The first thing I remembered from the 70s era was a radical student group called the Weathermen, then later the Weathermen Underground. Did you mean to make that association? Did you model the band around a real band from that era? I didn’t purposely name them after the Underground Weatherman. I was looking for a band name that reminded me of that error. Maybe there was something subconscious in my choice.

 

Cassidy inherited the property and event-planning business from her grandmother. What happened to Cassidy’s parents? It’s not revealed in this book, but they passed away in a car accident when she was younger, and she moved in with her grandparents. Her grandfather died shortly after that from cancer. Cassidy went away to college and her first job in marketing, and she returned to Fern Valley when her grandmother passed away.

The Pearly Girls were friends of Cassidy’s grandmother. How did they get their name? The Pearly Girls were besties since 4H and elementary school. When they were in junior high school in the era of Camelot, they wore pearls all the time. It was the age of elegant fashion, Jackie O, Barbie, and Audrey Hepburn. An obnoxious classmate dubbed them the Pearly Girls, and the nickname stuck.

 

One of the Pearly Girls, Aileen, says that Ivy Springs can get “stuffy.” What does she mean by that? Ivy Springs is very traditional and prides itself on its small-town ways. Sometimes, the free-spirited Pearly Girls bump heads with the others to judge their “non-traditional” behavior. (Southern women were often taught to be seen and not heard. The Pearly Girls believe that “Well behaved women seldom make history.”)

 

I’ve seen the police assisting with private functions like traffic patrol for funerals and such, but I hadn’t realized that they could actually be contracted for specific services outside of their duties. Is this normal? Do they raise additional funds for themselves this way? I think it depends on the jurisdiction, but when my dad was an officer, non-management personnel were allowed to volunteer for paid assignments (paid by the company requesting the support) for security, funerals, traffic control, or school events.

 

What is Cassidy’s property like? There are mountain views, views of forest, woods, a grotto, garden, pond, and an amphitheater. What’s a grotto? How large is the property? There are about fifteen acres on her property. The farm used to house the dairy barn, and an old honky-tonk that burned down in the 1980s. There is also a cave and a rocky grotto area near the serenity garden. The grounds shift from the green manicured garden to a more hilly terrain with craggy rocks and surfaces that surround the fairly large cave. In a later book, Cassidy figures out how to incorporate the cave into her event planning business.

 

Is Cassidy in her late twenties? If so, why does she have a “childlike” voice? She is in her late twenties. She does have a more contemporary vocabulary and a more casual way of speaking. Sometimes, when a member of another generation spends a lot of time with those a little more seasoned, it creates the feeling (whether intentional or subconscious) that they feel that they are seen as younger. Cassidy tries to navigate the generation gap. Sometimes, she’s quite successful, and other times outsiders can spot the divide.

 

After the lead singer is murdered, the band decides to continue playing the festival. It’s very unusual to have another member of the band be able to take over the lead singer’s position. Was this a point of contention in the band? Were the two in competition? This band was always in competition with each other. At first, they were all for one and one for all, but as they grew more successful, the competition was stiffer, and they all wanted song writer or lead singer credits (like the Monkees or even the Beatles).

 

At one point, the town council holds a meeting to decide if they should continue with the festival. I was surprised since I thought Cassidy had contracted with the promoter for the festival. Was it somehow a three-way contract among the promoter, who signed on the bands, Cassidy, and the town? Since the festival was held on private property, how could the town bar Cassidy from holding it? Did they require some permit? Would the murder be a violation? It was Cassidy’s event, but she always tries to schedule things that bring business to Ivy Springs. She’s always looking for partnerships with restaurants, photographers, caterers, wineries, and other local businesses. And Ivy Springs is a small town with an active gossip grapevine. Many of the town folks feel that they have a say in anything that goes on in the area.

 

At times, Cassidy acts as though the Pearly Girls are adolescents and she is their guardian. Isn’t this a bit superior of Cassidy? The women are in at least their 60s. Cassidy tries hard to navigate the generation gap. She gets the feeling sometimes that the ladies still see her as a teenager since they were peers of her grandmother and were around for most of Cassidy’s childhood. She’s not trying to be condescending or abrupt. There is some personal growth with her and the Pearly Girls as the series develops.

 

Cassidy initially decides to investigate because one of the Pearly Girls is treated like a suspect. When the evidence shows she didn’t have the height or strength to do the deed, why did the police continue to question her? The sheriff is close to retirement age, and he has his sights on some other local political jobs. He likes quick and easy investigations, and he’s pressuring his team to wrap it up as soon as possible. He also has a grudge against some of the Pearly Girls, and that dust-up comes to light in a future book.

 

Cassidy is attracted to one of the deputy sheriffs. At times, he seems attracted to her and flirts, but then he undoes all the magic by treating Cassidy with condescension and failing to recognize that her business is her business and anything affecting it. Will he ever understand or are they destined to be friction buddies? Cassidy does like the deputy. He’s handsome and interesting, and then he turns into “Dudley Do-Right” and offers long-winded lectures. At the end of this book, Cassidy has two possible suitors. No spoilers, but she does make up her mind in book two, Murder Plays Second Fiddle.

 

Off the leash, Elvis finds trouble, running right to the wrong places. Is this a good or a bad thing? Should Cassidy keep closer rein of Elvis? Aren’t there bears up there, too? She does need to keep an eye on Elvis. He’s a high-energy Chihuahua who thinks of himself as a Rottweiler with no fear. He’s tiny, and she doesn’t want him to get trampled, lost, or fall prey to the local predators like hawks, coyote, or the occasional bear.

 

What’s next for Cassidy and Elvis?  Cassidy, Elvis, and the Pearly Girls are back for more adventures in Murder Plays Second Fiddle and Murder Whets Its Whistle.