by Lois Winston
The expression, “Truth is stranger than fiction” has been around for a long time. In 1897, Mark Twain published the travel book Following the Equator: A Journey Around the World. Chapter Fifteen included the epigraph, “Truth is stranger than fiction, but it is because Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities; Truth isn’t. — Pudd’nhead Wilson’s New Calendar.”
However, Twain wasn’t the first to come up with some version of the saying. Seventy-four years earlier, Lord Byron had Don Juan opine, “’Tis strange — but true; for truth is always strange; Stranger than fiction; if it could be told, How much would novels gain by the exchange!”
I’m the first to admit I’m a news junkie. I’m also a diehard eavesdropper, a skill I developed at a very early age. It was how I learned all sorts of interesting stories that the adults in my life whispered about behind closed doors.
And there was lots of whispering. Grandpa was the captain of a major metropolitan east coast police force. He was responsible for the apprehension of many mobsters back in the day. But one of his brothers was a bootlegger, and my grandmother’s brother was romantically involved with a woman whose family was in the Mafia.
With such a background, is it any wonder that the plots and characters in my books have drawn on elements of real events and people I’ve heard about, observed, or read about throughout my life? Case in point, Seams Like the Perfect Crime, the fourteenth book in my Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mysteries, which recently released.
For this book, I didn’t draw on memories of conversations heard in my childhood, though. Instead, I looked no further than across the street from a former house my husband and I bought in 1998. Over the years, I’ve had some very strange neighbors, but the couple who lived in the house across the street from us back then tops the list.
This past year, when I was mulling ideas for my next book, these neighbors came to mind. I wrote about them in one of my author newsletters and asked my readers if they thought I should put them in my next book. All who responded said I should go for it. So I did.
In Seams Like the Perfect Crime, readers will meet the very odd Barry Sumner, a half-naked man who spends hours each day mowing a small yard of weed-infested packed dirt until his mower runs out of gas. Truth is stranger than fiction. The character of Barry Sumner is based on the neighbor who lived across the street from us. That man had the same strange mowing habit. But lucky for him, he didn’t meet the same fate as the character in Seams Like the Perfect Crime.
An Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery, Book 14
When staffing shortages continue to hamper the Union County homicide squad, Detective Sam Spader once again turns to his secret weapon, reluctant amateur sleuth Anastasia Pollack. How can she and husband Zack Barnes refuse when the victim is their new neighbor?
Revolutionary War reenactor Barry Sumner had the odd habit of spending hours mowing a small patch of packed dirt and weeds until his mower ran out of gas. He’d then guzzle beer on his front porch until he passed out. That’s where Anastasia’s son Nick discovers his body three days after the victim and his family moved into the newly built mini-McMansion across the street.
After a melee breaks out at the viewing, Spader zeroes in on the widow as his prime suspect. However, Anastasia has her doubts. There are other possible suspects, including a woman who’d had an affair with the victim, his ex-wife, the man overseeing the widow’s trust fund, a drug dealer, and the reenactors who were blackmailing the widow and victim.
When another reenactor is murdered, Spader suspects they’re dealing with a serial killer, but Anastasia wonders if the killer is attempting to misdirect the investigation. As she narrows down the suspects, will she jeopardize her own life to learn the truth?
Craft projects included.
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