What a great place for a body!

by Donna Andrews

Writers see the world differently. Especially mystery writers.

Yesterday, as I was driving down the back roads of Reston and Vienna to pick up my friend Joni so we could carpool to a Malice Domestic planning meeting, I passed a venue of vultures—yes, that's the proper collective noun. They were hovering over something at the side of the road. Most people would probably shudder and avert their eyes. I cursed the fact that I was on a tight schedule and probably shouldn't park the car and take pictures. But I consoled myself with the fact that they'd probably be there when I was on my way home.

They were. Although by that time they were sulking because the relatively mild and pleasant Sunday afternoon had brought out a lot of cars and made it dangerous to dine on their find—a dead raccoon. They were clustered on the hill above the carcass, glowering balefully down at the passing cars and occasionally flapping down to make an unsuccessful attempt to resume their meal.

What if Meg was driving down one of the back roads of Caerphilly and spotted a similar gathering of vultures. And what if instead of a raccoon . . . ?

Like most of Northern Virginia, I'm enjoying the slow, halting, but detectable progress of spring. Early daffodils, the ones that would normally peek through the snow in February, are just starting to bloom. I've only seen a few crocuses—were the rest eaten underground by desperate foraging rodents? I won't know till they fail to show completely. In fact, the next month will be a time of mixed sorrow and rejoicing—rejoicing every time a favorite plant shows signs that it plans to survive in spite of what Mother Nature inflicted on it over the last few months, and sorrow when it becomes clear that yet another plant has joined that great back yard in the sky. Thank goodness for the hellebores, which are already in full bloom, although they don't quite look as festive as usual. In fact, they look downright bedraggled, thanks to having their foliage squashed under so much snow for so long. And how did there get to be so much debris under the snow? There are moments when I think I was happier when all I saw was the snow.

Hmmm . . . what if when the snow melted in Caerphilly, Meg found something more than branches and broken flowerpots underneath?

And you never want to take a writer along when you're househunting.

You may see a wine cellar, a gazebo, a cleverly hidden storage closet.

We see bodies. Sprawled on the floor of your wine cellar with a broken bottle of Dom Perignon nearby. Artfully posed in the center of your gazebo clutching a corner of the missing will with an antique stiletto sticking out of the back. Tucked away unseen in your nifty storage closet until in the course of time . . . well, never mind the details.

We just don't see the world like normal people. Which is why going to conventions, hanging out with fellow mystery writers—and readers—is such a joy.

Thanks again to the organizers of Crimelandia—Left Coast Crime 2015 in Portland. Looking forward to Malice Domestic, Bouchercon in Raleigh, and the Great Cactus Caper, Left Coast Crime 2016 in Phoenix.

Comments

[Charlaine Harris]

Donna, what kind of vultures did you see? We live next to a colony of black vultures. They are fascinating and they look beautiful flying.

I'm always looking for good places to hide bodies, and I always feel self-conscious when I buy plastic sheets. It seems obvious I'm buying them to wrap bodies in to prevent blood seepage.

[Donna Andrews]

Charlaine, I think ours are also black vultures (although I welcome any advice from vulture experts).

I don't often have occasion to buy plastic sheets, but I do feel self conscious when buying anything that could be used to poison people.

[Hank Phillippi Ryan]

LOVE this! And only you could see it this way! Perfect. xoxo

[Donna Andrews]

Only me? Should I worry?

[Mary Hawkes]

Down the road here in Woodbridge, Donna, there's a huge purple area of crocuses in our backyard..they spread every year.

[Donna Andrews]

Mine get eaten by mice and voles and chipmunks. Sigh.

[Margaret Turkevich]

Would you believe I sanitized our rolling garbage cart and then had my husband help me climb inside, researching what position an adult body would assume after being dumped inside the cart?

[Charlaine Harris]

Sure, I'd believe that. I've used a garbage cart before. They're a great size!

[Donna Wms]

I cannot find a reference through Google, but this isn't a friend of a friend story - I was there, it happened a mile from my condo in Aurora CO. When the snow began to melt they found the body of a murdered teenager buried in one of the mountains of snow piled up by the snowplows. He had been missing for two months and it was thought that his body had been there the whole time. That would have been 1985. It was not too far from where the theater killings were in 2012 - I'm rather glad I didn't continue to live there.

[Jayne Barnard]

Up here near the BC/Washington state border, it's bald eagles rather than vultures. I saw one yesterday, dining on the shoulder of the road, and pondered the body disposal implications as well. He glared at me. There was no other vehicle nearby so I pulled way over into the oncoming lane and let him continue his meal in peace.