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The Femmes Fatales welcome Katherine Hall Page!

posted by Dana

I think I first met Katherine Hall Page through the New England chapter of Sisters in Crime, and like everyone who has the good fortune to meet her in person, I was immediately struck by Katherine's kindness, her generosity, and her encyclopedic knowledge of mysteries, mystery writers, and writing in general.  That was even before I had the chance to get to know her wonderful Faith Fairchild books!  This spring, I was lucky enough to get my hands on an early copy of her new book of short stories, Small Plates, and I can guarantee that you're in for a treat, which, with Katherine, means fine writing and mouth-watering recipes!  Katherine, welcome to the Femmes Fatales Blog!

I have always loved to read short stories. I think the first that I recall grabbing me (Louisa May Alcott’s A Garland for Girls didn’t pack the same wallop) was Saki’s “The Open Window.” And definitely “The Last Leaf” by O.Henry was an early favorite. It still brings a lump to my throat. And then “The Pearl Necklace” by de Maupassant, required reading for the 1%. And so many more over the years: Melville, Dorothy Sayers, James Thurber Willa Cather, Oscar Wilde, Eudora Welty, Alice Munro, Carson McCullers. John Cheever, J.D. Salinger, James Joyce, Shirley Jackson, Agatha Christie, Flannery O’Connor, Ellen Gilchrist, Laurie Colwin, Wodehouse, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and the master, Robert Barnard. Heresy, but am not and have never been a Hemingway fan.

So, I loved reading them—but not writing them. I have always found short stories much more difficult than a novel. In the introduction to Small Plates, I quote Henry David Thoreau: “Not that the story need be long, but it will take a long while to make it short," and Edgar Allan Poe’s “A short story must have a single mood and every sentence must build towards it.” Taken together, these are a fine summation of the challenge posed by short story writing: that paring-down process, the examination of each word essential for a satisfactory result. I’d also add a reminder based on Strunk & White—nowhere is omitting needless words more essential!

Having said all this, it was hard, but I loved writing the stories in Small Plates. The form was very freeing and although my series character Faith Fairchild appears in some, there are many new faces. I think readers will be surprised, and I hope delighted, by the tone of some of the stories. Dark—I like to think of them as Agatha Christie and Shirley Jackson sitting down together for a drink.

The settings for these stories range from coast to coast in the United States and across “The Pond.” Although I have set books in other countries, most of my short stories seem loath to travel, except in terms of time. One of them takes the reader to a century still bathed in gaslight.

The individuals who people these stories are an assorted lot. A man who longs for widowhood, dreams of the attention from the casserole brigade—good women lining up at his door with hopefully unburnt offerings and perhaps themselves an offering as well. A newlywed discovers her husband’s ingenious hiding places for objects like spare keys. One spinster turns to friends for help with the supernatural. Another unmarried lady, who raises goats on an island off the coast of Maine, finds a baby named Christopher in her barn on Christmas Eve. In another Maine story, an elderly lobsterman proves to be an extremely acute observer.  Faith and husband Tom encounter an ideal couple on vacation in Cape Cod and she takes an immediate dislike to them. Why?

In another tale, Faith and her sister team up to safeguard a bride in peril. And her own culinary prowess is tested as Faith tries to avoid being “Sliced” in a cut-throat mock reality cooking show.

The title of the collection, Small Plates, refers to the length of these servings, but also to the pleasure ordering tapas, or two appetizers instead of an entrée, often provides. It is my hope that the tastes here will linger long on the palate.

Katherine Hall Page is the author of twenty-one adult mysteries in the Faith Fairchild series and five for younger readers. She received the Agatha for Best First (The Body in the Belfry), Best Novel (The Body in the Snowdrift), and Best Short Story ("The Would-Be Widower"). She has been nominated for the Edgar, the Mary Higgins Clark Award, the Macavity, and the Maine Literary Award for Crime Fiction. She has also published a series cookbook, Have Faith in Your Kitchen, which was nominated for an Agatha. A native of New Jersey, she lives in Massachusetts and Maine with her husband.

 

Who Gets the Fur Baby?

By Elaine Viets

What’s the deal with pet custody?

It’s the new legal gravy train.

Pet custody is a major part of Catnapped!, my new Dead-End Job mystery.

Helen Hawthorne and Phil Sagemont, husband-and-wife private eyes, are the in-house investigators for lawyer Nancie Hayes.

She gives them a wake-up call on the subject at five a.m. when Nancie says, "It’s a custody case. We think the husband’s violated the visitation agreement. We need you to get her back."

"How old is the kid?" Phil said.

"It’s not a kid; it’s a kitten," Nancie said. "Four months old."

"A kitten!" Phil said. "Call Animal Rescue."

"This isn’t any ordinary cat," Nancie said. "It’s a pedigreed Chartreux, a show cat owned by Trish Barrymore."

Trish is the socialite married to Smart Mort Barrymore.

"Trish and Mort are in the middle of a bitter divorce," Nancie said. "They’re fighting over everything: Who gets the two mansions, the Mercedes and the Ferrari, even the antique cigar case. The only thing they’ve agreed on is the shared custody of their cat, January’s Jubilee Justine."

"Why did they agree on custody of the cat, if they fight about everything else?" Helen asked.

"They care about Justine’s welfare," Nancie said. "Pet custody is tricky. The court regards pets as property. Some judges won’t order visitation for the other pet parent. Get the wrong judge, and it’s like asking if you can visit your ex-wife’s couch."

Helen and Phil met Trish less than an hour later at Nancie’s office. Pale blond Trish looked like she was mourning her potential loss in a black lace dress that cost as much as a summer vacation.

"Custody cases are always difficult," Nancie said. "But despite your differences, you and Mort worked out an agreement for Justine."

"We did it for the emotional well-being of our child," Trish said. "Justine has a brilliant future as a show cat. She’s a pedigreed Chartreux. They’re known for their smoky gray fur and copper eyes. We explained that Mommy and Daddy still love her, they just can’t live together anymore. She seems to be coping well.

"We know we’re not the only couple in this situation," Trish said. "Britney Spears and K-Fed and Jennifer Love Hewitt and Ross McCall fought over their fur babies."

"So did another Barrymore," Helen said. "I read that Drew Barrymore and Tom Green had a custody dispute over their Labrador."

"Those Barrymores are no relation. They’re actors." Trish spit out the word.

"I guess if you don’t have children, you have to fight about the pets," Phil said.

"Tell that to Jon and Kate Gosselin," Nancie said. "The reality show stars had eight kids and still fought over their dogs."

"Please, please bring my baby home," Trish said.

"Is this case for real?" Phil asked after the weeping Trish left

"Very real," Nancie said. "If you think Trish and Mort are hard to take, you won’t believe the Laniers of Tennessee. When they split, the wife said she deserved custody of the dog because she kept it away from ill-bred bitches – her words  – and made sure the dog went to a weekly ladies’ Bible class."

"Was it a lady dog?" Phil asked.

"I have no idea," Nancie said, sharply. "Mrs. Lanier wouldn’t let anyone drink around the dog. Mister Lanier said he deserved custody because he taught the dog how to ride on the back of his motorcycle and never drank beer around him. The court gave the couple joint custody. Each spouse got the dog six months at a time."

"I would have bought the dog a beer and given him to someone who wasn’t so crazy," Phil said.

                                ***

"The behind-the-scenes look at the show cat world is worth the price of admission alone in this witty cozy," says Publishers Weekly. 

Buy your copy of Catnapped! from Barnes & Noble, Amazon, or your favorite independing bookstore. The links are here www.elaineviets.com

The World of Mary Stewart (1916-2014)

The English novelist Mary Stewart died recently at the age of 97. She had a long and distinguished career, beginning with the publication of her first novel, Madam, Will You Talk?, in 1955. Her debut established the hallmarks of her suspense novels: an intelligent, capable heroine; a vivid sense of place; and an engrossing and suspenseful adventure with a dash of romance. In her first novel Stewart introduced the modern romantic suspense novel, and other writers soon followed: Victoria Holt, Phyllis A. Whitney, Barbara Michaels/Elizabeth Peters, and Jane Aiken Hodge (to name but a few and all favorites of mine).

More suspense novels followed, all bestsellers, and Stewart sold in the millions around the world. In 1970, however, she shifted gears (rather abruptly, to the minds of her publishers and her immense fanbase) and published The Crystal Cave, the first in a trilogy of novels to feature Merlin, the Welsh magician and advisor to Arthur of Camelot. Stewart's gifts as storyteller quickly won over skeptics, however, and her Arthurian novels brought her many new readers. She went on to write more tales of romantic suspense and novels for younger readers as well.

I can't remember which Stewart novel I read first, but I think it was Airs Above the Ground, in a Readers' Digest condensed books edition. Though I loved the Merlin trilogy, my favorites are the suspense novels. When I read one of them, I walk the same streets, see the same sights, as her characters. She has a sense of place that is extraordinary. Another thing I admire is that she never backs away from danger or from putting heroines in situations fraught with suspense.

I first read and loved My Brother Michael as a teenager -- it's probably my most favorite -- but when I reread it years later as an adult, I understood the implications of one particular scene that I had missed before. The heroine is witness to a disturbing act of violence (she is hiding at the time and doesn't see the act itself), but she is forced to listen to it. It's not terribly graphic, but then, it didn't have to be. Stewart didn't back away from real -- and ugly -- violence in her books, though some would dismiss them because of the elements of romance.

Another book I love is Nine Coaches Waiting, in which a young woman, Linda Martin, puts herself in grave danger in order to save the life of a child. This is a gripping novel, but again some might slight it because of the romantic overtones. I find this amusing, because there are plenty of novels of "romantic suspense" for men, like the James Bond novels or Tom Clancy's technothrillers. The difference is that, while James Bond feels he has to save the world in order to be a hero, Linda Martin believes it's important to save the life of one child (without a fancy gadget in sight).

That, to me, is the core of Mary Stewart's marvelous suspense novels. I hope she will continue to be read for many years to come.

THE EXCITEMENT OF FILM . . . NOT

I don’t know how many of you have had a chance to experience the incredible, electric excitement of being on a set for a television show or a movie, but I want to share with you the innermost feeling I have when I get to do so.

After the first couple of times, it’s boring. Yes, I said boring. The first time, I was carried along by the pleasurable feeling of being in with the in crowd. The crew darted here and there, the lights were carefully set, the director called “Action,” and the actors know their lines and shift positions as directed. I had my headset on so I could hear, too, since the actors were in a closed room in a house set. Luckily for me, I was positioned so that I could see the screen on the monitor, so I knew what was happening.

After the first scene, I thought, “Great! So interesting!” And then, with minor variations every time, the actors repeated their scene, over and over. Sometimes with a different emphasis, or with a slightly different emotion. But they always sat at the same point, stood at the same point, and exited the room at the same point, because that’s also part of being an actor.

Between scenes, the actors sat in their chairs and texted, or played games on their phones. Because that’s what people do.

When I first began to meet actors as part of “True Blood” coming to the screen, I was extremely nervous. These were gorgeous, talented, sophisticated beings. Like many people who have seldom been on stage and never been in a beauty contest, I was inwardly freaked out. It took a few conversations for me to get the picture. Yes, they were all attractive, or at least charismatic, and they were all talented . . . on the screen. One on one, they were people who had a talent different than mine. They worried about the same things: their relationships, their apartments or houses, the heavy traffic in Los Angeles, how they were going to earn their next paycheck in an industry that is known for discarding talent on a whim.

When all is said and done, I believe that acting and writing have a lot of similarities. They are both uncommon and specific talents. Both fields, writing and acting, involve a lot of rejection. They both require role playing . . . because what is creating a bookful of characters, if not a sort of role playing? Though one profession demands you be around people all the time, and one demands a solitary work station, they’re both forms of art.

Maybe next I’ll go follow a painter around.

Charlaine Harris

One good woman - well, two.

Catriona writes: When Edgar Allan Poe, the great grandaddy of us all, wrote about doppelgangers, it was never the start of a party. In fact "the counterpart self" in mystery fiction as a whole seldom bodes well.

I'm happy to say that in real life, a mirror self is a delightful person to have in one's life.  Or at least in my life.  Because my mirror self is the thoroughly charming Aline Templeton: English teacher, headmaster's wife, journalist, radio and tv writer, mother, grandmotherm and justice of the peace - which always sounds like such a splendid thing to be.

It's okay, I know what you're thinking - we could be cast as cousins but hardly twins.  But listen to this: when I first met Aline in 2005 I was living on a farm in Galloway writing about a detective in Perthshire with a Dalmatian, while Aline was late of Perthshire, had a Dalmatian and was writing about a detective who lived on a farm in Galloway.

We even considered teaming up as a double-act for a while (and calling ourselves The No.2 Ladies Detective Agency) until wiser thoughts prevailed.

For a while after I left Galloway for California, I couldn't bear to read any of Aline's (it's pronounced AH-leen, by the way) Margery Fleming series. The landscape descriptions were too good and the homesickness too sharp. I'm fine now, just in time for all of the Big Marge series coming to the US - yay! Bad Blood is the newest one and I can't wait to dive in.

Margery's a wonderful character - a truly good woman. Not sickly sweet but fully-rounded and deeply moral.  I don't wonder for a minute how someone like Aline thought of her.

And now here's Aline herself, letting us in on one of the dusty corners of a writer's life.

Aline: Analogies have had a bad name since Alan Bennett, now a celebrated British playwright, did a satiric sketch in a student revue called Beyond the Fringe where he portrayed an Anglican priest giving a sermon: ‘I often think life is like a tin of sardines.  There’s always that little bit in the corner that you can’t quite get out.  Is there a little bit of sardine in the corner of your tin?  I know there is one in mine.’

So I’m taking a risk in saying that starting a new book always feels rather like moving to a new house. I’ve see the floor plan, I’ve had a couple of quick visits to check it out and on that basis I’ve made lists, clipped articles, gathered samples, considered décor and colour schemes, decided in my head where the furniture would go.

But even after all the preparation it feels strange and uncomfortable when I actually move in.  I liked the old house, I knew all its nooks and crannies and I’d worked hard at getting it just the way I wanted.  And all my friends liked it too, when maybe they won’t like the new one as much.

Now I’d better stop before someone reports me for cruel and unusual treatment of an analogy, but I think it does to some extent work.

You live for such a long time with a book; you know the characters like intimate friends.  You may worry all the way through about whether the plot will work as it should and live with the dread that you’ve been too clever and will find yourself ‘baffled’ like the policemen in the early detective stories but once you’ve reached the end and realise that it’s fine, working on the final edits is a delight. [This is a minority view - CMcP]

In fact, it’s probably my favourite part of writing a book, apart from the occasional stretches when the characters take over and I feel as if I’m just taking down dictation.  When I’m spotting mistakes, checking continuity (were her eyes blue or brown?), deciding about colons versus semi-colons and taking out commas only to put them back in again, it’s like slipping back each time into a nice cosy cardigan and I could go on forever.  Oh yes, my editor almost has to prise my fingers off the ms to get me to stop.

But the new book – oh dear.  Perhaps it’s only me, but once the previous book’s been published and people are pleased with it, I become absolutely convinced that the next one can’t possibly be as good. It’s such a stunted thing, just a few chapters on a computer file, compared to its magnificent predecessor, resplendent in its hardback clothing.

Then a funny thing happens.  As I settle into it, get to know the characters, think of some new twists to the plot, live in the setting, I start getting fond of it.  I begin to believe that perhaps it’s  - ssh!- even better than the one before.  I’m comfortable with it.  At home.

So then you know what happens.  I finish it, and I’m on the move again.

 You can catch up with Aline and read up on all eight Big Marge procedurals at her website - and you'll get some wonderful views of Galloway too.

May Book Reviews

from Mary

 

Good Heavens, it has been a superlative reading month. I love it when that happens. Every book read was outstanding. All but one are from writers who are new to me.

I loved the stories and especially the protagonists which were of unusually high caliber. A little steampunk here, a little comic relief there, a little magic over yonder. Well-bred Victorian ladies. Inbred undead Southern trash. And an astoundingly beautiful literary work whose central character is a clockwork female, set in the 1600s in rural France.

Oh YEAH, baby. That's what I'm talking about. Life is GOOD. :)

 

 

DOUBLE WHAMMY by Gretchen Archer is just the ticket when you're in the mood for a fun read. Don't take my word for it. Here's what Janet Evanovich said, "Funny & wonderful & human. It gets the Stephanie Plum seal of approval."

Davis Way is a young woman who needs a job. Like a lot of people these days, she has been applying everywhere she can think of and with no luck for a long time. Her finances are in terrible shape, thanks to her ex ex husband (divorced him twice) who drained her life savings. Her dad is the police chief in the tiny town of Pine Apple, Alabama, and she does help him some at the office. But in such a small place, there's not much hope of a real full-time job.

When Davis gets an interview for a security position in Biloxi, Mississippi, she's happy but not too happy because it's at a casino. Still, it's something. Someone is rigging the Double Whammy game and Davis is hired to work undercover to find out who.

Down-to-earth and lots of fun.

 

 

 

LADY OF DEVICES by Shelley Adina is first in the Magnificent Devices series set in Victorian London. Young Lady Claire, daughter of a Viscount, is more interested in scientific experiments and the workings of steam-powered machinery than her upcoming graduation and subsequent "season" and presentation to the Queen. She wants to study at Oxford. Her mother wants her become engaged to a rich titled gentleman immediately if not sooner.

Claire's life of privilege comes to an abrupt end when her father kills himself after losing the family fortune through bad investments. Her distraught mother and infant brother return to the family's ancestral home in the country, Claire stays to clear out the London house which must be sold. But when a mob of angry investors come to rob and pillage, she has to run for it, making her escape in her Dad's steam-powered landau.

Unfortunately, the roads at midnight are dark with few gaslights to help her see where she's going. She is waylaid and attacked by thieving ruffians. When she wakes up on the cobblestones, her money and the landau are gone. She has nothing and no one to help her.

And that's when a wonderful story begins. I love the way Claire's adventures here and in the next two books change her life and bring out who she is meant to be.

 

 

The 2nd book, MAGNIFICENT DEVICES, continues the story as Claire and her new "family" work to better their situation. Claire assists a respected scientist with a new invention that will revolutionize railroad steam engines.

 

 

In book #3, HER OWN DEVICES, Claire and entourage are invited to accompany a Lord's family to America in his personal state-of-the-art airship. The Wild West provides many opportunities and disasters. Along the way, relationships face many challenges, and simply surviving isn't guaranteed.

I'm thrilled to see that #4 is now available. Plus two more are in the works!

 

 

THE WIZARD OF LONDON by Mercedes Lackey is the 5th book in her Elemental Masters series which I adore. We see a different side of Lord Alderscroft, the wizard in the title, of the British Elemental Masters Council, who appears in previous books.

The Harton School for Boys and Girls isn't your ordinary boarding school. It's for children with very special abilities, like mind reading and seeing dead people. Isabelle and Frederick Harton bought the school building in a bad part of London because that's all they could afford. Their compassion and love for the children more than make up for financial deficiencies.

As the extraordinary talents of two new students grow, they come to the attention of a very bad magical entity that tries to kill them. Isabelle Harton knows she must alert the Masters Council and ask for their help. However, it's not at the top of her list of Things I Want To Do. That's because when she was a young girl in love, she was crushed when her suitor suddenly jilted her with no explanation. He was none other than Lord Alderscroft, now head of the council.

Another engaging and heart-warming story in a great series.

 

 

MY LIFE AS A WHITE TRASH ZOMBIE by Diana Rowland is a book I admit I have avoided. I read all the great reviews and thought, Yeah, well ... it's not for me. Not crazy about white trash. Really really dislike zombies so it's just not going to happen.

What changed my mind was the audiobook. It was an Audible Daily Deal and cheap, so I took the chance. I have to say, I'm glad I did.

Audio-wise, they couldn't have chosen a better narrator. Alison McLemore not only sounds the part, she puts herself into the role and does a fantastic job.

I'm in awe of the way Diana Rowland wrote that part, with the main character, Angel Crawford, telling her story with zero self-pity. She's a drop-out, an addict, has no family support and no hope for a better life. And she's wonderful.

She's also quite profane. So if you listen to the audio, you might want to turn down the volume on your smartphone when out in public. I speak from experience. :)

 

 

This weekend, WISCON, the feminist science fiction/fantasy convention, is going on in Madiscon, Wisconsin. I had hoped to be there for it but couldn't make it. Like many other book conventions, WISCON nominates books in various categories for awards every year. RUPETTA by N.A. Sulway is one of those nominees.

It's hard to think of a way to describe this book. It begins at an isolated farm in an alternate rural France around 1640. There, a father and daughter create a mechanical companion/helper they call Rupetta. The daughter is given the special duty of 'wynding' Rupetta's heart regularly, and this duty is passed down from daughter to daughter in each generation.

The story goes back and forth in time, with some chapters told by Rupetta and others by characters in the future.

Interesting, different, yes. But what sets this book apart is the extraordinary beauty of every single sentence. Every thought, every tiny glimpse of nature, every nuance of emotion, it's all beautifully described and in such a way that you sink into the words and feelings of the characters.

No surprise then that Nike Sulway, the Australian author, has a PhD in creative writing and and has received prestigious awards for her work.

Gorgeous and highly recommended.

 

 

Please share your recent book recommendations in the comments below this weekend. We can never have too many books in the to-be-read stacks!

 

 

The Road Not Traveled

by Leigh Perry / Toni L.P. Kelner

It's not that I have any particular regrets with the way my life has gone, but sometimes I do wonder what would have happened if I'd made some different decisions along the way. What would my life be like?

If I were a normal person, I'd just speculate, and maybe discuss the possibilities with friends, but being a  writer means I can back up and take some of those other paths. At least in my fiction.

Take the theater, for instance. Not the pro theater, but acting in school. I did try out for a couple of plays but ended up wimping and not actually being in the shows. I don't even remember why, exactly. Something about friends who'd auditioned with me, who then quit the show, and a death in the family messing up scheduling. The result is that I was never in a play. I don't have any idea that I was a particularly good actor, but I think I would have enjoyed being part of a production if I hadn't wimped out. The fact that my husband and my daughters have all been in student theater really makes me rethink my choice.

So now I have Madison Thackery to walk that path for me. Madison is the daughter of Georgia, the protagonist of my Family Skeleton series. Madison never wimps, she takes small parts or large, and she attends rehearsal faithfully. So I can vicariously enjoy the experience along with her.

A bit later in my life, I considered going into academia. My degree is in English, and I swear that half the times I mentioned that to people, their response was, "So you'll teach?" I never had a strong interest in teaching, but the research did appeal to me as did the idea of working in a college setting. Though I decided it wasn't for me, I do think about it wistfully sometimes.

Now I have Georgia, who is an academic--and big surprise, she's an English professor. Okay, she's not doing lots of research, but I think she will some day. And she's a really good teacher, much better than I would have been. More vicarious jollies for me.

In other books and stories, I've played with the ideas of being an entertainment reporter, working in a carnival, working in an amusement park, eveb running away to join the circus. Obviously, I'm not planning to take any of those road--at least in real life--but I'll continue to travel those roads in my fiction.

Behind the Badge

by Donna Andrews. 

I no longer know what to do with myself on Thursday nights. For the past ten weeks I've been attending the Fairfax County Citizens Police Academy, a course our police department puts on to help citizens learn more about what their local police department does.

After all, to paraphrase what one speaker told us, most of us only meet the police when we see those flashing blue lights in the rear view mirror and realize we're about to get a ticket. Or when we or someone we love has been the victim of a crime—and however glad we are to see the police then, it's still part of one of the worst days of our lives. (At left: Moose, a bomb-sniffing dog.)

The CPA is designed to let county residents learn more about the people behind the badge. I have several writer friends who attended past sessions, so I was surprised to find only one other writer in the class. The greatest number of people attending were there because they're involved in one or more civic organizations that interact with the police. There were also a few people who were interested in volunteering with the police—the CPA is the gateway to the Volunteer In Police Service (VIPS). A few were criminal justice students taking the course to supplement their coursework, or aspiring police recruits.

We convened on March 13 at the Criminal Justice Academy. After a welcome from Lt. Col. Ted Arnn, head of the investigations branch of the department, we got a tour of the academy and an overview of how the Fairfax County Police Department is organized. (At right: one of the Explosive Ordinance Detonation Squad's robots.)

I tried not to sulk about missing the second class, which was held at the newly opened McConnell Public Safety and Transportation Operations Center, where all our 911 calls go. (After all, they tell me I can make that class up in the fall.) But I was there—usually in the front row—for all the rest.

At the Mount Vernon District Station we learned that each of Fairfax's eight police stations has at least one full-time domestic violence detective. And we got a look at how a station operates and examined both the old style police cruisers and the new Ford Interceptors that are replacing them now that Ford has discontinued the long-popular Crown Victorias.

The Fairfax County Sheriff's Department took over for our tour of the Fairfax County Adult Detention Center—running the jail, along with court security and serving process, are their main responsibilities. I came away impressed with the magnitude of the job and the efficiency with which it's done, and in possession of the practical knowledge of how to use toilet paper to make a rope strong enough to strangle someone or rappel down from a window. I'm not entirely sure Sgt. Wright of the Sheriff's Department meant to make that last part so memorable. (And thanks again to Ms. Maxine Collins, the chef, for a delicious dinner.)

Over at the Springfield District Station we learned about use of force and probable cause vs. reasonable suspicion, unlearned some of our misconceptions about Internal Affairs, and had a demonstration of the Conducted Energy Weapon from MPO (Master Police Officer) Schaney. What's a Conducted Energy Weapon? Just in case we didn't know, someone present sang out, with glee, “It's taser time!” No one was actually tasered during the demonstration, though several overeager souls volunteered to be guinea pigs. (That's me at left, standing in front of the SWAT team's wheels.)

At Police Headquarters we heard from the chief of police, Col. Edwin C. Roessler; the major crimes division; the homicide squad; the financial crimes unit; and the fugitive squad. The first three were, of course, meat and potatoes to a mystery writer, and I was surprised at how fascinating the financial crimes discussion was. And who knew that the county had a squad of officers to do extradition—but obviously someone has to be there when another jurisdiction says, “Hey, we've caught that bad guy you had a warrant out on—you want to come and get him before we turn him loose?”

Police Headquarters was also our locale for meeting with the Traffic Division, Lt. Col. Tom Ryan, head of the Administration branch and the guys from Organized Crime & Narcotics. No photos allowed at the latter, for obvious reasons.

Fairfax County is one of the few local jurisdictions with a helicopter division—okay, most county residents have figured that out, but now I have a better appreciation of what they're doing when they hover over our neighborhoods at night—not always tracking down criminals, but also helping search for missing kids and seniors or doing medical evacuations. We also got a tour of the newly renovated Animal Shelter and an orientation from Animal Control—I still wonder how many of my classmates went back and adopted cats and dogs after that session. (At right: one of the helicopters.)

We were at the Pine Ridge Facility in Annandale for one of our liveliest sessions, featuring the SWAT team, the Explosives Ordinance DetonationTeam, and the K9 Unit. Dog Night, I called it. MPOs Tom Eggers and Bryan Cooke, the EOD guys—aka the Bomb Squad—turned their two drug- and accelerant-sniffing Labs loose to wander the classroom, after warning us that they'd snarf up any food left lying around. Bodie, the black German Shepherd K9 officer wasn't allowed to roam loose but we got plenty of chances to admire him. And I bet the SWAT team guys and the EOD guys have endless arguments around the water cooler about who has the coolest tech toys. Although I think the SWAT team are the only ones who get excited about jumping out of the helicopters.

We all braved the record rainfall to visit the Fair Oaks Station to hear about School Resource Officer. Alas, the Crime Scene Unit was out at an actual crime scene and had to cancel, but that meant we had time to hear from Lt. Col. Erin Schaible, head of the Patrol division, about some of the challenges facing that branch of the department, and from Lt. Richard Perez, who has been tasked with organizing next year's World Police Games at which officers from all over the world will compete in sixty different events. They're planning events not only in track and field and team sports like baseball and basketball, but also pistol and rifle events, a police service dog competition, and the Ultimate Firefighter contest. Mark your calendars, folks—all events are free and they're looking for volunteers. (At left: if this vehicle ever shows up outside your house, get ready to move.)

And graduation day was held at the Firearms Range and Emergency Vehicle Operations Center. We learned about the firearms training recruits receive and then got to try our hand on the range at a pretty short distance. And we got to ride along with the EVOC trainers as they raced around the track at top speed, first in the old Crown Vics and then in the new Ford Interceptors. For some reason, after their laps in the Crown Vics, not everybody wanted to ride in the Interceptors, and I was one of the few people who got a third ride. In fact, one of the few people who volunteered to take a third ride. Probably says something about my sanity.

And then we received our certificates from—and had our pictures taken with—Chief Roessler, and celebrated the end of our journey together with a potluck lunch.

Many thanks to the Citizens Police Academy organizers—VIPS Tracey A. Ryan, Mort Berger, Emily Bikofsky, Lisa Kennedy, Cheryl Lewis, David Strickland, Lisa Thompson, and Christa Towns, and 2nd Lieutenant James E. Krause, and to all the dedicated sworn officers and civilian employees who gave their time to make the class a success. (Not to mention the dogs.  At left: another shot of Moose, because you can never have too many dog photos.)

I have no idea how the course will affect future books. So far, I'm merely prone to bending people's ears with bits of information that I learned during the course. Did you know that the FCPD handled close to a million calls for service last year? That only one fugitive has ever died as a result of K9 action in the many decades dogs have been used in this country? If you're in Virginia, have you heard about our relatively new “move over” law, designed to help increase the safety of police and other emergency personnel on the roadside? Have you heard--

 You see what I mean. Sorry if you run into me before my urge to burble about this fades. Thursdays just won't be the same any more. I'm ready for CPA, the sequel any time!

Don't Worry, Be Hopi

Today the Femmes welcome Shannon Baker. Shannon writes the Nora Abbott Mystery Series, a fast-paced mix of murder, environmental issues and Hopi Indians published by Midnight Ink. Tainted Mountain, the first in the series, is set in Flagstaff, AZ, where she lived for several years and worked for The Grand Canyon Trust, a hotbed of environmentalists who, usually, don’t resort to murder.  It is a 2013 finalist in the New Mexico/Arizona Book Awards. Broken Trust, book two of the series, takes place in Boulder, CO and was released in March. Shannon serves on the board of Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers and is nominated for its 2104 Writer of the Year. She is a member of SinC and MWA. Visit Shannon at www.Shannon-Baker.com.

Over to you, Shannon...

Despite the fact that last Sunday was Mother’s Day and not far from me they’re reporting a foot of snow, I’m finding a smidge of satisfaction in my voluntary exile to rural Nebraska. Huddled in my parka, I am grinning with delight as I survey my vegetable garden. I know it was risky to plant my seedlings in mid-April. I waited until the first weekend in May to put in my bedding plants. From experience of gardening in Nebraska many years ago, I learned not to trust planting until Mother’s Day, and even then, to keep your fingers crossed.

I haven’t been able to plant a garden for several years, either because I lived in a townhouse without a yard or because I lived in Flagstaff where the growing season is five days with volcanic rock for soil. I’m particularly excited this year because after researching and writing about the Hopi tribe in Northern Arizona, I have a whole new appreciation for gardening.

Traditional Hopi culture is ancient and intricate. When Hopi emerged from the Third World to the Fourth, where we live now, they were given instructions from their Spiritual Guide (I won’t use his name here because a traditional Hopi friend asked me not to put it in print). Among other things, he told the people to live simply, practice self-denial and self-sufficiency. Along with telling them how to live, he gave each of about 30 clans a strict calendar of ceremonies and rituals and encouraged them to blend with the land and celebrate life.

The Guide gave Hopi responsibility to balance the entire world by maintaining the ceremonies and living according to His instructions. Hopiland is a microcosm of the world so what happens there will be intensified in the world. As it happens, young Hopi are leaving the reservation, decimating some clans, causing others to take up the slack. Climate change, severe weather disturbances, increased social conflict and cosmic dangers are the result of this lack, according to some Hopi traditionalists. This imbalance is telling us the Fourth World is nearing its end and with it, most of us will die.

But we don’t need to panic. Because the Guide predicted this state of affairs and He also gave the People a way to forestall or even halt disaster. There is a whole list of instructions that deal with living simply, being kind to each other and respecting Mother Earth. Of course, there’s more to it than what I’ve said but that’s for another day.

This spring, I’m interested in one particular instruction. He told us, all of us, not just Hopi, to:

PLANT THINGS

According to Hopi, the subsistence cycle contains four phases: planting, cultivating, harvesting and thanksgiving. This is the ceremonial cycle. For Hopi, farming is not just a chore, it’s sacred. Through the cycle, you grow ever closer to Mother Earth and the rest of creation.

We’re told to plant in good humor and to sing to the seeds, and later seedlings and plants and to harvest in thanksgiving. If we do all of this, the bounty of the garden is not counted in pounds of vegetables but in health and healing of the planet and mankind.

That’s all pretty lofty ideals for my little backyard vegetable garden. I won’t admit to singing to my plants. I might just hum or whistle and sing a ditty under my breath, you know, as I do most of the time anyway. I don’t talk to them, either. Not any more than I talk to myself regularly.

Mostly, I’m excited to see them grow noticeably from early morning to evening (on days when it’s warm and sunny, not days like today). I’m anticipating tart and tasty tomatoes, zesty radishes, crunchy carrots, spicy peppers, and those problematically prolific zucchini.

If I’m doing my part to save mankind, that’s a nice side effect.

Do you have any “instructions” on living for a more spiritual or environmental or happier existence?

Beyond the Stars: Dancing Secrets

By Elaine Viets

Ballroom dancers look graceful with their slender heels and swirly skirts. I love watching them. But on a dance floor I move like a cigar store Indian.

  My friend Chris is a ballroom dancer. She suggested Catnapped!, my new Dead-End Job mystery, should have a dance scene.

 
Private eye Helen Hawthorne was working undercover at a cattery, pampering pedigreed Persians. Ballroom dancing would be less hairy. Maybe even glamorous.

Men dancing partners are often scarce in the ballroom dancing world, but Chris says you can rent one.

"You can rent a good man. Lessons with a professional dance partner cost me a hundred dollars an hour. That may sound like a lot, but I get a man who devotes his attention to me for a full hour. Does whatever I want.

"It’s cheaper than living with a man full-time who ignored me. And when I get tired of him, he goes home."

+Maybe ballroom dancing had promise. But I remembered way too many high school dances, where I was a wilting wall flower.

"Hah!" Chris said. "That’s nothing. You won’t believe what happened to me when I was learning how to dance."

And then she told me. Chris’ experience made my toes curl. I wrote it into the book:

 

Helen is undercover at the mythical Coral Room, an Art Deco ballroom on Federal Highway. Outside, the old building featured flashing coral neon. Its sign was a landmark—a tuxedoed man dancing with a sophisticated thirties’ woman in a long ruffled dress.

As she entered, Helen heard a recording of "This Can’t Be Love." Some people in line were tapping their toes, anxious to start. Helen guessed the women outnumbered the men by five to one, and, at forty-one, she was one of the youngest. Dresses ranged from short cocktail frocks with flirty skirts to evening gowns. The men wore anything from Hawaiian shirts to suits.

She paid her ten-dollar fee and got her ticket for a free drink. The ballroom was a step back in time: five thousand square feet of beautifully cared-for hardwood, surrounded by small black tables and chairs. The bandstand was empty, and the walls were decorated with framed autographed photos and posters of Glenn Miller, Benny Goodman, Frank Sinatra, even Fred and Ginger. They’d all headlined at the Coral Room.

Helen ordered a club soda from the bar and sat at an empty table. The song ended and Des O’Conner sang "Red Roses for a Blue Lady."

That’s a slow fox trot, if I remember right, she thought. And this is like high school. Once again, I’m a wallflower.

But then a balding man in his seventies came over. "Care to dance?" he asked.

Saved! Helen thought. "I’d love to. But I’m a little rusty."

"A pretty lady like you?" he said. "I’ll have you warmed up in no time." He smelled of bay rum, and his white shirt crackled with starch.

"My name’s Helen," she said, as he led her onto the dance floor.

"Bob," he said, and those were the last words they exchanged. Helen stumbled and tried to right herself. Now she was off beat. Her feet couldn’t follow his. Bob moved too fast for her, and then too slow. He held up his arm, and she gathered she was supposed to twirl. She tripped in her too-high heels.

That’s when Bob dropped her hand like a dead fish, and walked away.

Helen was abandoned on the dance floor.

This is worse than high school, she thought. Boys didn’t dance with me then, but I’ve never been marooned on the floor before.

                                             ****

Catnapped!, a Dead-End Job mystery, is a hardcover and an e-book. Check out the first chapter, or buy it online at www.elaineviets.com