Mystery-minded

Writing in Paradise

My friend, mystery novelist Elaine Viets who lives there, says that Ft. Lauderdale is the farthest south you can live and still get meaningful work done. I’ve checked the maps, and my present location, 26° 35.51 N, 77° 00.36 W to be precise, is exactly 28 minutes of latitude — approximately 32 miles — north of Elaine’s condo in Lauderdale, so as a novelist, I figure I’m safe, but it’s not always easy writing while living in paradise.

We’re in a rented house on Dickie’s Cay, a tiny strip of land that forms the harbor that protects Man-o-War Cay, a settlement of boat-builders and church-going people with a year-round population of approximately 150. There’s a hardware store —“if we don’t have it, you don’t need it” — where items that went on the shelf twenty years ago are still for sale, with their original price tags. There’s one sit-down restaurant — best hamburgers in the world at the Hibiscus, my husband says — a couple of gift shops, a sailmaker’s shop where four ladies sit at ancient sewing machines turning out the most beautiful and practical canvas bags, and two groceries that don’t sell cigarettes or booze. No law against it, they simply don’t. Albury’s Harbour Market, where I shop, is the size of your average two-car garage, but I can’t think of anything that Phyllis doesn’t have — even half-and-half! — in that tiny, neat-as-a-pin store. I shop, she puts it on our tab, and we pay up at the end of the month. With a tab, I feel like I really belong.

No TV, no daily newspaper. There are no ATMs, the bank is open on Tuesdays from 10 to 2, and few cars. Rush hour is two golf carts meeting on The Queen’s Highway, an eight foot wide strip of concrete that bisects the narrow island.
There are no roads where we are on Dickie’s Cay, and our family “car” is an Avon dinghy — to go shopping or to eat out, we walk out to the end of the pier, climb down a wooden ladder, fire up the outboard and putt-putt across to Man-o-War.

On the porch of “Tradewinds” where I’m sitting right now riding a rogue wireless signal — thank you, whoever you are! — I’m finishing up my next Hannah novel, Dead Man Dancing, drinking a cup of coffee, and watching the sun come up. Just a few minutes ago, the first boat of the day came by, filled with Haitians from Marsh Harbour who come here every day to work building boats and houses, doing yard work, anything to earn a few dollars to send back to their families in Haiti. They are a friendly, hard-working people who often spend their lunch hours reading passages from the Bible aloud, and seem delighted when I speak to them in my passable French.

I’ve adopted a cat, “Dickie,” who showed up one day so hungry that he ate plain, cold spaghetti and bits of garlic bread. We don’t know what happened to his family, but he may be a boat cat who fell overboard and swam ashore. We’re feeding him to help protect the local bird population. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

And speaking of birds, as I was writing yesterday a hummingbird whizzed by like a giant wasp, reversed suddenly and hovered just two feet in front of my face, wings a blur. I’d seen hummingbirds visiting the yellow flowers on the oleander in the garden, but I couldn’t figure out what drew this little fellow to me, until I realized that on his side of my computer screen there is a brightly-lit white apple.

A sudden rainstorm followed by a rainbow, a sunset that sets the horizon ablaze, a tiger cat purring for the first time in who knows how long nestled against your side, and a hummingbird checking you out. As I said, there are distractions while working in paradise, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Originally published in The Lipstick Chronicles, February 2, 2008

We've been elfed!

Perhaps it's all the hectic preparation for Christmas that's gotten to me, or the fast-approaching deadline for the new Hannah Ives mystery, Dead Man Dancing, but at my house, it's silly season.  Exhibit A:  Marcia and Barry Get Elfed

Have a wonderous, safe and blessed holiday!  The next time I post, it will be from Man of War Cay in the Abacos, Bahamas, where the weather is warm, but it's not hard to get into the spirit of the holidays where poinsettias grow wild like this.

Elementary, my dear, uh, Barry?

On Sunday, December 9, Barry and I were part of a fabulous fundraiser for the Annapolis Symphony Orchestra called READ BETWEEN THE WINES – an afternoon of wine, cheese and mystery and romance writers.  Thirteen authors and a several hundred guests gathered in the atrium of Annapolis’ elegant Loews Hotel where each author was interviewed by Barry who’d been sweet-talked by You-Know-Who into volunteering as Master of Ceremonies. Tons of books were sold by Mystery Loves Company, our favorite independent bookstore, whose owner, Kathy Harig, generously donated twenty percent of sales to the Symphony.  Wine supplied by Mills Fine Wine & Spirits flowed freely, and a good time was had by all.

Several weeks before the event, Barry and I met a photographer at Galway Bay where I donned a trench coat, pulled on a pair of fishnet hose, and agreed to a publicity shot which made it into both the Capital and the Washington Post. 

Meanwhile Barry … well, just take a look. 

Thanks to my author friends – Donna Andrews, Ellen Crosby, Mary Ellen Hughes, Maria Lima, Clyde Linsley, Sally Mackenzie, Katherine Neville, Sandra Parshall, Mary Jo Putney, Lucia St Clair Robson, Daniel Stashower, and Tracy Anne Warren -- for donating their time and their talents to make this event a whopping success!  I urge you to buy their books early and often.

North to Alaska!

An Alaska Diary

Tuesday.  Bouchercon, a.k.a. The World Mystery Conference, was held this year in Anchorage, and since I’d never been to Alaska, I was eager to go.  After what seemed like an endless plane ride, connecting through Minneapolis, I arrived in Anchorage mid-afternoon on Tuesday, checked into the Hilton, and began lookin’ round.

Alaska is due north of Hawaii (!) but appears to be 4 hours ahead of the East Coast and in its own time zone, called the Alaska Time Zone, so we're on AKDT.  The sun set around 7:30 last night, but at 7 a.m. this morning, it’s still pitch dark outside and dawn is a l-o-n-g time coming. The St Laurence Islands and the Aleutians are on the same time zone as Hawaii, but do not practice daylight savings time, so they are currently two hours ahead of the rest of Alaska, and an hour ahead of Hawaii. All of which explains my confusion about where to set my watch.

Anchorage is built on a flat plain near the harbor, with wide straight roads. There are some skyscrapers in the city, primarily hotels, but most of the city consists of two and three story businesses, giving the place a small-town feel. It's industrial, too -- tankers coming and going, railroad yards, warehouses, factories and processing plants. At the airport, more than half of the planes coming in and out are cargo planes. All night, I heard the train whistles moaning, a sound that this l'il ole Midwesterner finds comforting.

We are framed by spectacular mountains in the Chugach Range, more than 13,000 feet high. Most of the early conference arrivals are here to take advantage of the tours, like one that goes to 21 glaciers, or the Kenai fjords boat trip which is on my agenda for Wednesday.

Dinner my first night was at Phyllis' Cafe and Salmon Bake a couple of blocks from the Hilton, opposite JC Penny. Formica tables and 50s-style chrome, Phyllis's pegs low on the ambiance meter, unless you're a fan of over-the-sofa-sized wildlife paintings of wolves, sled dogs, grizzlies and Eskimo. Dinners were “moderately” priced in the mid-20s, the halibut I had was fresh and delicious, and although they had a monster "early bird" snow crab special — tempting! — I simply didn't have the strength to wrestle with my food. SJ Rozan and I dined with James Sallis and his wife, both from Phoenix.

Off now to find coffee at the Kobuk Coffee Company; highly recommended by my cab driver. There is a Starbucks in the hotel, but that's, like, so ordinary.

Wednesday.  If folks in Anchorage start their workday before ten, they do so without coffee from Kobuk’s. Long before sunup, I trudged out in a light drizzle only to discover that Kobuk does not open until ten.  Later in the day I went back and had a truly splendid cup of cappuccino (TIP: head for the back of the store) and also purchased my “what did you bring me, grandma?” souvenirs at their wonderful native-craft gift shop.

After pocketing my credit card, I hustled off for my first program, a panel on staying alive in this crazy business where I shared the dais with Charlaine Harris and Thomas Perry.  Long-time friend, Charlaine, told me about “a shop that is YOU, Marcia,” so I just had to visit Pia Sweaters, where they sell the most outrageously beautiful Icelandic sweaters and coats. You can see the result in the Kenai snapshot below.  In town for less than 24 hours, and the credit card is already getting a workout.

Dinner tonight was with my long-lost cousins — honest.  I hadn’t seen Jake Tuckerman and his younger brother, Murray (sons of my mother’s older brother, also named Jake) since 1957, so it was a real treat to find them both living in Anchorage.  We had dinner at Simon and Seafort’s where I watched the sun set over Cook Inlet behind Mt. Susitna. Pure magic!

Thursday. Had breakfast with my agent, who is encouraging and supportive in every way, including leading me to a shop she'd discovered (Style of Russia) where I found truly unique souvenirs.  After lunch, I took notes for nearly three-hours at a Sisters in Crime Board meeting, where the discussion was seriously enlivened by passing around a box of Alaska Wild Berry Jelly Center Chocolates — visit their website if you dare! —and a panoramic view of Cook Inlet and the mountains beyond. 

Not having anything I absolutely had to do after that, I went in search of Oomingmak, the Musk Ox Producers' Co-operative.  They organize rural villagers into knitting circles that make scarves and nachaqs out of quiviut, which is musk ox under fur.  Qiviut (pronounced "kiv-ee-ute") is the color of café-au-lait, downy soft, light, and warmer than any other "wool" on the planet.  NOTE:  The hats are w-a-y expensive, but two days later, I was high bidder on one that had been donated to the Bouchercon auction, so I got a hat and helped a good cause, too.

The opening session for the conference began at 6pm, with Anthony award nominees announced.  I was introduced as one of 29 authors who had volunteered to go "to the bush" as part of the Authors in the Schools program organized by Alaska Sisters in Crime, chaired by the amazing Anne Rothe. (See below.)  The highlight of the opening session was a welcoming speech by the governor of Alaska, Sarah Palin, who is a young, attractive, charming, and very funny woman!  (At least her speechwriter is!) The whole proceedings were then blessed/purified by shaman Kenny Timberwolf Gardner, dressed in robes and fur, carrying an abalone shell of burning sage, the purifying smoke from which he wafted over the crowd with an eagle feather.

We had a full moon tonight over the mountain ... something that really stops your heart ... and impossible to capture on film unless you're, say, Ansel Adams with a $5000 camera.

Friday.  "Achieving Critical Mass," my panel with authors Roberta Isleib, Irene Marcuse, Gayle Wigglesworth, and Rebecca Tope, was surprisingly well-attended.  Apparently the audience had figured out what the topic meant --  where we get our ideas.  I had a quick lunch (gourmet box-type are provided daily as part of our Bouchercon registration), then joined author Roberta Isleib for a bike ride on the amazingly beautiful coastal trail.

Roberta had an appointment, so she reluctantly turned back at the 4.5 mile point, but I continued on to the end, which was about 9 miles, then retraced my steps, for a total of 18 miles. I saw bald eagles, a mother/daughter moose team, birds, spectacular mountains, mudflats, meadows.  The weather was cloudy, but not terrible cold, and I was comfortable the whole time in my silk long johns, turtleneck and a fleece jacket, with gloves and hat. 

Here's a picture of me on the trail at "Hannah Cove"!  The mountain in the background is Mt. Susitna.  You can also see that the tide in Cook Inlet is w-a-y out!  The mud flats are extremely dangerous -- warning signs all over -- like quicksand, I imagine.

The round trip took 3 hours, and I arrived back at the hotel in just enough time to return the bike, shower, change and go to the St Martin's cocktail party, followed by the Berkley party, followed by the Harper/Collins dinner.  Dinner was at the Marx Brothers Café , a fine restaurant in an historic house just half a block from the hotel, small and cosy -- I don't believe they could have had more than 14 tables total.  Seafood was delicious, and I was ravenous after the bike ride.  Good to sit next to my editor, Sarah Durand, and across from Barbara Peters from Poisoned Pen.

Saturday.  Gathered up my aching bones (and sore butt) early this a.m. to have breakfast with Sarah Durand, my editor at Morrow/Avon, and learn what she's up to.  She's been concentrating on tie-ins, i.e. getting people to write novelizations of movies.  Someone I know just did the novelization for the Elizabeth: The Golden Age which is about to be released. Not sure I'd want to do that kind of thing -- VERY short deadlines — but you know me, I’ll try anything once.

This afternoon I'll be sitting in the Mystery News booth for a while, then there is the banquet tonight where the Anthony winners will be announced. Tomorrow I leave for Seward in a rental car.  To show you how small-town it is up here, I'm picking up the car behind somebody's apartment building, the back left door is unlocked, and the key is under the mat.  There is a number to call if I can't find the car, and ask for Rosie.  LOL.

Tuesday.  I'm still in Alaska as part of the "Authors to the Bush Program".  Found a wireless connection at the Seward Community Library and have a free afternoon, so I'm trying to catch up with my email!

Located the rental car without a hitch, and drove the 130 miles to Seward along the most heart-stoppingly beautiful coastal road, stopping so many times to take pictures that it's a wonder I got here at all!  A highlight -- pit stop at Estes Brothers Grocery in Moose Pass for a fine, fine cup of cappuccino. 

The folks here in Seward couldn't be nicer.  Absolutely everything is taken care of by volunteers:  the rental car from the owner of the local Hertz franchise, the B&B from the proprietor, every meal courtesy of the Friends of the Library (dinner last night included the mayor of Seward, Vanta Shafer), volunteer chauffeurs, all organized by the indefatigable Patty Linvale, Director of the Seward Community Library.  My talk at the library was well-attended, even though it conflicted with the annual School Board Meeting, but as one woman told me — ‘they never give us the funding we ask for, anyway, so I’d rather come hear you.’ 

Monday after classes, one of the volunteers drove me up to Exit Glacier, so called because it is the easiest "exit" if you happen to be up on the Harding Icefield.  As if.  The hike to the base of the glacier was releatively effortless, and standing at the foot of this living, breathing, monster ice thing was truly amazing.  It's actually blue!  The trees in the valley below are turning yellow, so you've got these incredible panoramas -- gray of the river bed (almost completely dry at this time of year), yellow trees, evergreens, red moss on the mountains, snow peaks.  Stunning.  Coming down off the mountain, I saw the most incredible rainbow ever -- wide and bright, arching across the mountains.

“Dairy Hill Lodge”, the B&B where I'm staying, has a large room with two double beds, a kitchenette, a sofa and two chairs, and a bath, all in spotless polished pine.  The owner, Kathleen Barkley, has instructed that whenever I leave, I’m to switch on the light and make sure there are no bears on the porch.  That doesn’t happen in Annapolis!  Kathleen and her husband, Jim, also own the Alaska Saltwater Lodge, so if you need a place to stay while visiting Seward, call Kathleen!

But the reason I'm here, is the kids! --  the high school yesterday, the middle school today.  Everyone was so well prepared for my visit; in fact, Laura Beck, the middle school teacher I was working with this morning has just been voted Alaska Teacher of the Year.  How cool is that?

I've just left the elementary school where I did a presentation for both the 5th and 6th grades classes, the last of which was a lively discussion initiated by the 5th graders on murder mysteries I could set in Seward based on 1) an old children's home/TB hospital ruined in the earthquake; 2) a woman murdered in a bathtub (stabbed?  shot?  strangled?  the stories varied) at the Van Gilder hotel. 

I've had a ball, but I am soooo ready for a break after having been on the road for a week!!  Tomorrow is my treat -- the 6 hour cruise on the Kenai Fjords -- and it looks like the weather is going to be sunny and just about perfect.

Wednesday.  Ann Rothe and her husband, Tom, came down to Seward to join me for the six-hour boat trip to the Kenai fjords.  Ann put the whole Authors in the Schools program together, and Tom is Waterfowl Coordinator for the state of Alaska.  What a gorgeous day!  Seals sunning on rocks, the Aialik Glacier "calving" in a major way.   On the way back to Seward, the boat stopped where there is a resident pod of killer whales, but we were stunned to find that instead of one pod, there were many — a once-a-year "super pod" event, orcas, 60-70 in number, swimming, diving and puffing around our boat.  I took a video with my mini-camera, and all you can hear on the soundtrack is me repeating, ‘ohmahgawd, ohmahgawd, I can’t believe it!”

After a delicious seafood dinner in Seward, and an overnight at Ann and Tom’s home in Eagle River, Anne drove me to the airport, just as the sun began to rise, setting the sky on fire.  Alaska’s way of telling me, “You-all come back now, hear?”

The Queen, at your service

Barry and I have just returned to Annapolis after spending the entire month of August away.  We had a blast (see below), but it’s good to be back, to see how much our grandchildren have grown in just six weeks, pet my cat, catch up on some yardwork, cook in my own kitchen … 

Our voyage to England was beyond wonderful!  Thanks to that generous retirement gift from Barry’s former students (36 years worth!) we boarded the Acela for New York City where we stayed at the Waldorf Astoria, ate fabulous food, and saw “Xanadu,” a hysterical new musical based on an outrageously bad movie from 1980 about a painter and his muse (Olivia Newton-John) who find love at a roller disco in Los Angeles.

The New Yorker raved: “so ridiculously brilliant, so lavish and sublime … it’s probably the most fun you’ll have on Broadway this season," and the New York Times called it “heaven on wheels, in leg warmers.”  We couldn’t agree more!  Would love to see it again.

The next day, we were whisked away by shuttle to Brooklyn where we boarded the Queen Mary 2 for a gala seven day, six night crossing to England.  A steward who already knew our names welcomed us to our stateroom (with balcony!) where we found complimentary champagne chilling in a bucket  … from the minute we stepped aboard, it was the royal treatment all the way.   Each night we dined in the elegant Britannia Room where the service was impeccable, the food five-star, and the conversation with our tablemates, stimulating.  Three dinners aboard were drop-dead formal, followed by dancing in the Queens Ballroom.  Barry and I even took ballroom dancing lessons so we could step out in style.  In fact, everything on the Queen Mary 2 is done with style and class; we felt like characters in a play, and loved every minute. I’m afraid the QM2 will spoil us for air travel forever.  Another advantage over flying?  They advance the clocks an hour each day so when you arrive in the UK – no jet lag! 

As retirement gifts go, a cruise on the Queen Mary sure beats the heck out of a gold watch!

On arrival at Southampton we simply walked off the ship, the messy business of customs and immigration having already been accomplished on board by Her Majesty’s Immigration Officer, at sea, somewhere  south of Greenland.  At the terminal were met by sailing friends (Phil and Suzanne Watkins, owners of Tradewinds, the property we rent on Dickies Cay in the Abacos) who whisked us away for a weekend on their 37-foot sailboat, Calypso.  Calypso is moored on the Beaulieu River (that’s “Bew-Lee”), and the Watkins had arranged for perfect weather for some exciting sailing on the Solent, near the Isle of Wight, smack dab in the middle of Cowes Race Week.  After a driving tour of the New Forest ("New?"  It was established by William the Conqueror in 1079), Phil and Sue dropped us off in Portsmouth at the home of our longtime friends Admiral David Bawtree and his wife, Ann, who drove us to London and turned over the key to their London flat on Rampayne Street, just across from the Pimlico tube station. 

In London, we spent a delightful week going to museums (Any cats in the audience?  Leave now.  The mummies at the British Museum were a real hit, particularly with the Japanese tourists!)

Saw “Wicked” which we enjoyed, although we were seated in the nosebleed section.  (CULTURAL ALERT:  The "stalls" are the best seats in a London theater, not the "dress circle".  Who knew?)  We were also able to tour the State apartments at Buckingham Palace – a real treat as they are open only for the several weeks in the summer when the Queen is at Balmoral in Scotland.  On Sunday, we attended services at St Brides, Fleet Street, which had a wonderful choir.

After London, we took a bus to Oxford where I attended the annual Crime and Mystery Weekend at St Hilda’s College, always a highlight of my summer.  Heard interesting and informative talks on the theme "Strong Poison," met old friends, introduced Barry to Colin Dexter (a big thrill for Barry as he always sympathized with hard-drinking, classical-music-loving, never-quite-getting-the-girl Inspector Morse), and I was thrilled to be able to chat with one of my idols, PD James.  On Sunday, as is the custom, we attended services at St Cross, the church where Lord Peter Wimsey married Harriet Vane. 

After St Hilda’s, we drove south to Pickford House, a favorite B&B in Beckington, near Bath, for a week of pampering by owners, Ken and Angela Pritchard (The food!  The wine!) while attending the beautiful and inspirational “Music in the Liturgy” festival at Edington Priory.  Built in 1352, the priory survived Henry VIII, the Reformation and even the Victorians pretty much intact.  To attend Compline at 9:15 pm when the sanctuary is illuminated solely by candles, to hear a dozen perfectly-matched men’s voices singing plainsong chant -- magical!  The priory is nestled in a fold at the base of Salisbury Plain, and on the last night the full moon rose over the plain, shining through the stained glass windows.  How do you spell "awe"????  While in Somerset, we visited ancient Glastonbury where I finally got to climb the Tor, and where else but Glastonbury can you find an "Internet Falafel Bar?"

We visited Wilton House (which displays a lock of Queen Elizabeth I's hair), and made side trips to Devizes, Bath, and one of my favorite towns, Bradford-on-Avon, where the Bridge Tea Rooms serves the finest cream teas in the land, and Alison at Quire will sell you not only greeting cards but fine wool; you can even see pictures of her sheep.

After Edington, we drove via Hay-on-Wye (the Welsh town of bookstores!) to the beautiful medieval village of Ludlow in Shropshire where we were guests in the gracious Edwardian home of our dear friends, Carol and Rory Chase.  Carol (better known as the mystery novelist, Kate Charles – Secret Sins is available now at fine bookstore everywhere!) had arranged dinner parties, shopping (!), tours and outings for us; we had a marvelous time.  Ludlow boasts a famous castle, historic St Laurence’s Church (the final resting place of A.E. Houseman -- "Or come you home of Monday when Ludlow market hums..." A Shropshire Lad), but is probably better known for its food.  Every meal that Carol and I prepared was made almost entirely of fresh, local produce – meat from the butcher, cheese from the cheese shop, vegetables from the farm, and milk (with cream still floating on top) delivered directly to her door.  Heaven!

Another highlight was the “Black and White Villages Trail”, a circular drive along a route that took us through village after picturesque village in rural Herefordshire.  This tour particularly interested me because I am a diehard fan of the Merrily Watkins mystery series by Phil Rickman which are set in Herefordshire.  Merrily lives in “Ledwardine” which bears more than a passing resemblance to Woebley.  Compare this photo I took in Woebley to the cover of the paperback edition of Wine of Angels and you’ll see what I mean.  The highlight of our day was an invitation to join Phil and his wife, Carol, for tea at their medieval farm near Peterchurch, in the heart of the Golden Valley.

It was difficult to drag myself away from Ludlow and our excellent friends; to drive through traffic moving at break-neck speed along the M-4 to London’s Heathrow Airport and the flight home.   I’m already saving up my frequent flyer miles for next summer!

@ Your Library

In June, I had the good fortune to be invited to Bloomington/Normal, Illinois, home of State Farm Insurance, Illinois State University, Beer Nuts, La Bamba ("Burritos as big as your head")  and -- more importantly -- Toni Tucker and Terri Ryburn who I'd met through our mutual friend, mystery author, Kate Charles, whose mother still lives in Bloomington. 

I had a wonderful time delivering the keynote address for the Community Cancer Center's Annual Survivors' Dinner, followed the next afternoon by a talk at Milner Library, a model university library which, due to the talents of the Assistant to the Dean of University Libraries, my friend Toni Tucker, had been recently honored by the American Library Association with the coveted John Cotton Dana Award for excellence in public relations.

Kate, an honored alumnae of Illinois State, had told me how royally I'd be treated there, and she was absolutely right.  And how could I not feel like a star when a professional photographer appeared to take pictures of me for a library READ poster, modeled on the Celebrity READ posters put out by the American Library Association? 

So, like Orlando Bloom, Alan Rickman, Renee Fleming, Sean Connery, Dakota Fanning and dozens of others (including Kate!), I've got a READ poster of my very own.  As a former librarian, I couldn't be prouder!

Sailing with Friends

As you know from reading this blog, my husband retired in December.  An avid sailor, his idea of a fab retirement trip was to pack up a few “necessities” in a duffle bag the size of a pillowcase, climb aboard our ancient Tartan 37 sailboat and set sail down the Intracoastal waterway from Annapolis to Fort Lauderdale — a distance of 1200 miles — and from there, another hundred miles or so across the Gulf Stream to the Bahamas.

I thought it’d be fun, too.  Research, I smiled to myself, envisioning a novel — no! — a whole series of mystery novels, set along that scenic waterway.  Assassins in Albemarle. Bodies in Beaufort.  Corpses in Charleston.  Deaths in Delray Beach.  So, I packed up my laptop and went along.

After provisioning, there’s barely enough room for two people on a sailboat — imagine living for six months in a space the size of your average bathroom.  A radio, of course, but no TV.  And no high speed internet, either, although wireless signals can pop up in the unlikeliest of places.   I was sitting cross-legged on deck somewhere in the vicinity of Vero Beach one day, tapping out chapter three of the next Hannah Ives mystery when email suddenly started pinging into my mailbox.  “Sail in circles!” I shouted to my husband.  “This area’s hot!”

The usual place to get free internet while cruising is an independent coffee shop, or the town’s public library.  It was at a public library in Myrtle Beach, SC, in fact, that I learned from my agent of a hardback deal (hurrah!) for Dead Man Dancing and the Hannah mystery after that.  By Myrtle Beach, too, I’d read to the bottom of my modest, space-restricted TBR pile, so the mystery section of the library looked enormously inviting.  I longed to dive right in, but, alas, what library is going to lend a book to someone who plans to sail into the sunset the following day? 

While doing a load of laundry in Charleston, South Carolina, I learned a life-saving fact.  Marina laundromats are the lending libraries of the cruising sailor.  Here’s the deal:  you take one, you leave one.  At Charleston City Marina, I left Margaret Maron’s Rituals of the Season on a shelf over the coin-operated dryer and picked up R is for Ricochet, which I’d somehow missed when it first came out in 2004.  I left Sue Grafton in Isle of Hope, Georgia where I snagged a copy of Rochelle Krich’s Blues in the Night which kept me happily engrossed all the way to my next laundry day in Fernandina Beach, Florida.  There, Rochelle was traded for a well-thumbed copy of Dead Before Dark by Charlaine Harris. When Elaine Viets wrote High Heels are Murder, I doubt she imagined anyone would be plucking it off a rickety bookshelf on a tropical island in the Bahamas but I did, in Hopetown in the Abacos, leaving Ellen Crosby’s Merlot Murders in its place.  And at the marina on nearby Man of War Cay, I picked up a plumply waterlogged copy of Carolyn Hart’s (appropriately titled!) Set Sail for Murder (in hardback!) thinking, “Today’s my lucky day!”

Then I really got lucky.  One morning while listening to the Abaco Cruisers’ Net, I heard about Buck a Book.  Open Monday-Wednesday-Friday from 10 to 1 and staffed by Mimi Rehor and a string of volunteers, Buck a Book turned out to be a battered, turquoise shipping container plunked down under a palm tree in a muddy parking lot opposite The Conch Inn in Marsh Harbour, capital of the Abacos.  Mimi accepts book donations and sells them to sailors like me for a buck each, all to benefit the gravely endangered wild horses of Abaco.

Inside the cramped, dimly-lit space, with a computer screen glowing bluely in one corner and a dissenting fan keeping the stagnant air gently moving from another, I checked out the shelves:  Steven King, James Patterson, Michael Critchton, Patricia Cornwell, Nora Roberts and the usual suspects were there, for sure, but I’m happy to report that books written by authors I actually KNOW were more than generously represented on Mimi’s shelves.  I greedily stocked up on Denise Swanson, Christopher Fowler, Nancy Martin, Jerrilyn Farmer, Chassie West, Donna Andrews (how on earth had I missed Click Here for Murder?), Andrew Taylor and half a dozen more, paying for them with a twenty dollar bill, and please keep the change, Mimi.

I’ve been home since mid-June, catching up on paperwork and getting reacquainted with my cat, Tommy, who’s presently sulking under the bed, just to punish me.  I was away for six months, but in all that time, thanks to my fellow cruisers, I never really felt out of touch with my friends.

[Originally posted to Poe's Deadly Daughters, July 14, 2007]

His Final Bow

On Sunday, December 10, my husband took his final bow after conducting his last (the 70th!) performance of Handel’s Messiah. 

“I wanted to go out on [Messiah] for a number of reasons,” Barry writes in a letter to his singers and former singers.  “I have always felt that the Chapel represented the heart and soul of the Naval Academy. It’s a great heroic space, a wonderful place in which to make music on a big scale, a larger-than-life event.  The fact that the program doesn't change means that generations of mids and audiences share a common experience that hasn’t altered much over the years, except that we have gotten better supporting instrumentalists and soloists in recent years than in the earlier days. 

“And I wanted to go out on a program that involves our men and women, because I wanted so much to see the women achieve a measure of success approaching that of the guys.  This is happening at the Academy, but it is happening very slowly, and it's largely a reflection of the relative sizes of the talent pools.  If you're one of the girls, know that your success is really important to me, but I want you to succeed on your own terms, not as some sort of honorary guy.  Enough of politics.

“The Messiah was sold out as it has been for many, many years; it sold out in about a week, and yet we keep this concert a virtual secret.  Imagine that — a concert that sells 4000 tickets without telling anyone.  I know it's listed on a few community calendars, but by the time they come out, the tickets are gone.  That’s what I call a popular concert.   For many years now, we've been performing with members of the Annapolis Symphony Orchestra — a professional orchestra — and they love the experience. The energy and passion of the mids is contagious, and the orchestra plays with such heart as a result, it's truly inspiring.

"Several years ago, we became the recipients of a very generous grant that provides underwriting for our soloists such that we can attract the top soloists from the Metropolitan Opera in New York City.  They're literally the best in the world, and the soloists this year were among my favorites from the past 10 years.  They, like the orchestra, are captivated by the midshipmen, the Chapel, the whole exciting, electric thing; and every one of them brought friends and family.  This is an interesting point.  During the past year, our soloists have performed all over the world with the greatest conductors, orchestras, and opera companies of our time, yet this is the performance that they want to share with friends and family.  That's a powerful affirmation that what we do here is really special, even for those performing at the highest professional levels, so all of you who have been singing, know that you have been part of something that is well known and well appreciated even at the Metropolitan Opera.

"The social events held this December in honor of my retirement were two:  a small but star-studded dinner hosted by the Superintendent in Buchanan House that included the Chief of Naval Operations, the Secretary of the Navy, the Navy Inspector General, the Academic Dean and other distinguished guests; and following the Sunday performance, a very fancy banquet hosted by the Naval Academy with major league food and drink — open bar, always dangerous with our singers — a string quartet for very civilized background music, speeches by former Mids, the Supe, my old and dear friend, Professor David White, with whom I did so many musicals; Monte Maxwell, my successor as Chairman; all spoke very emotionally.  I was presented with several awards, including a commendation from the President, the Distinguished Civilian medal from the SecNav, an official Naval Academy chair, a check (I have your names, and thanks to you, Marcia and I will embark on a Queen Mary Atlantic transit), some wonderful "Memory Books" containing mementos culled from hundreds of photographs and letters from Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan, Bush I, Clinton, Bush II, Rickover, Perot, Arleigh Burke, Sinatra, Carson, former Supes and ‘Dants,) and programs from high level events and photographs from those same events, really a remarkable collection.  Those in attendance at this event wore about 40 stars — this is my cumulative Admiral/General count — and many dear and close friends and family.  Daughter Laura, husband David, and Ben, Jon and Abby; Sarah (the youngest of the Talley daughters) came all the way from Jakarta with Thomas (3 years) and Joseph (5 weeks) to be a part of it, and there was a major exodus eastward of my brothers and sisters from Texas. 

If words are not enough, check out:  Barry's Retirement Photo Album

"In spite of all the festivities, for me the great moment(s) were, as always, the soaring of the spirit in the music of the Messiah; and this time, it took on a little added passion with everyone really striving for the finest they could achieve.  You all know when that happens, it transcends the ordinary. There could be no finer, more joyous, or more noble way to take a last bow, than with this great work sung by the great midshipmen choruses, in the Chapel.  What a way to go!  Those who have sung it I know understand.  That performance can be a transforming event, and none of us are quite the same after singing it together."

<>

Fred Cohrs, a varsity singer from Barry's first year, 1971-1972, has posted  Messiah Photos and Audio Clips for those of you who missed (or would like to revisit) the performance.

On December 27, Barry and I will begin working our way down the intracoastal waterway aboard Troubadour with a target of Ft Lauderdale.  We'll wait there for a good weather window, then cross the Gulf Stream heading for the Bahamas. 

<><>

If you live along the route, come sail with us for a day or so, or let us know where you are, and we'll get together either on the boat or at your place, and raise a glass and share a memory or two.

Hollywood, here I come!

In early November, along with eighty of my traditionally published crime-writing colleagues, I was  invited to attend "Sisters in Crime Goes To the Movies: Selling Your Book To Hollywood," which turned out to be one of the best conferences I've attended -- ever.  Sponsored by Sisters in Crime national, organized by the Los Angeles chapter, and subsidized by Author Coalition funds, participants stayed in funky hotels in the heart of old Hollywood and attended sessions at the Writers Guild of Los Angeles where we met the best screenwriters, agents and producers in the biz, including those responsible for such great TV shows as Law & Order, Monk, Deadwood, CSI ... the list goes on and on. 

After checking into the Beverly Laurel Motor Hotel near the intersection of Fairfax and Beverly, I joined Sujata Massey and Caroline Hart for an evening event at the Cerritos Public Library, a stunning new $40 million facility that might well have been designed by Walt Disney, but that would be a slap in the face to Charles Walton and Associates of Glendale, California who were actually responsible for this, the first titanium-clad building in the United States. 

The next morning, we toured Sony Studios, and in the evening drove to Encinitas for a well-attended program for the American Association of University Women at Barnes and Noble.

The following morning, we were guests in the audience of The Dr Phil Show (honestly, some of those people need to GET A LIFE!!), then spent all day in the classroom, learning from top pros in the business how to pitch our novels.   The secret? Twenty-five words or less.  High concept.  "Bambi meets the Godfather" or "Miss Marple meets The Perfect Storm."  Like that.

Saturday found us scattered throughout Los Angeles for group signings at area bookstores.  I appeared at the Mystery Bookstore with a dream panel -- Anne Perry, Naomi Hirahara, and  Sujata Massey, an event that was later featured as Picture of the Day in Publishers Weekly.

Satruday night we attended a private screening of Showtime's Dexter (ooooooh ... hands-covering-my-eyes scary) and finally, on Sunday, were given the opportunity to pitch our novel to a real producer, from well-known independents to senior executives at studios like Universal and Dreamworks.  Fingers crossed!

Hannah Ives is back!

If you've read this far, you know it's been a bittersweet fall for the Talleys with family sorrows and joys managing to keep us completely off-kilter.

In September, Morrow/Avon published my 6th Hannah Ives mystery, THROUGH THE DARKNESS, and I'm happy to report that it made it onto the bestseller list of the Independent Mystery Booksellers Association.  

Hannah's son-in-law, Dante, has finally realized his dream, opening Dante's Paradiso, a luxury day spa located on the waterfront in Annapolis' Bay Ridge community.  After the gala opening ceremony -- Kendal Ehrlich, wife of the Maryland governor, cuts the ribbon -- a tragic event turns life upside down for the usually intrepid Ives family. 

The plot is plucked -- as mine usually are -- straight from the headlines, but the research I did for this book led me down dark and twisted paths I never expected, and came, quite literally, w-a-y too close to home. Official Press Release

I've published several short stories this year, too.  May I recommend "Home Movies" in Baltimore Noir and "Driven to Distraction" -- inspired by a too-long road trip from Maryland to Florida with my husband, Barry -- which won an Agatha Award for best short story, appears in Chesapeake Crimes Two, and was recently reprinted in The Deadly Bride and 21 of the Year's Finest Crime and Mystery Stories. 

At present, Hannah and Paul are off learning ballroom dancing (!) while I write a standalone thriller set in Annapolis at the historic William Paca House.  Stay tuned!