Author Jeff Sherratt's Final Book is Released!

Jeff Sherratt was a dear friend to me and a great storyteller. He wrote The Jimmy O’Brien Mystery Series which included The Brimstone Murders, Guilty or Else, and Detour to Murder. He raced against the clock to finish his last novel in the series, Cyanide Perfume, but time ran out before the final edits. His loving wife, Judy Sherratt, judiciously completed this novel so it remained Jeff’s work. I know many of you have been waiting for this novel to be released. It took a long time and a lot of hard work by his wife, along with the help of a few others, not the least of which was his good friend and editor, Mike Sirota.  

Anyone who ever knew Jeff would tell you what a wonderful storyteller he was. If you get a chance to pick up his book Cyanide Perfume on Kindle or in paperback on Amazon you can see for yourself. I'm sure you will enjoy it—his final words.

Jeff was a man with integrity, a great sense of humor, and a heart the size of Texas. He gave good advice, shared his knowledge with whoever would listen, and loved his family more than anything on this earth. I only knew Jeff Sherratt for a few years, but he felt like a brother to me. He was my mentor and a dear friend. He took me under his wing and led me into the world of fiction. I have him to thank for my success as a novelist.

Sometimes in life, a friend comes along just when you need him, leads you where you need to go, and watches out for you along the way.  Jeff was that friend to me—and I expect to countless others who crossed his path. 

Whenever Jeff did an event with other authors or attended their events (which he always seem to make time to do), he never failed to buy the other authors' books. Not only did he buy them, he read them, and wrote reviews. 

So if you want to return a favor he did for you, you can do that by purchasing Cyanide Perfume. And if you enjoy his last book, please go on Amazon and leave a review, or at least tell your friends about the book. Jeff would appreciate it and so would his loving wife, Judy. I know it would make her feel good to know that people cared enough to take the time to do that for him.

Rest in peace, Jeff Sherratt. May your words live on...

Teresa Burrell

Author of The Advocate Series

True Crime Hits Close to Home

by L.J. Sellers, author of provocative mysteries & thrillers

On April 14th, my uncle and his wife—both quite elderly—were brutally murdered in their bed. The killer, 15 at the time of the slaying, was finally caught months later. His first preliminary hearing was held last week, and the gruesome details emerged. My cousins were there to hear the young man confess to slaughtering their father and his wife.

A few of the heinous details: Each victim was tortured and stabbed more than 60 times. The killer cut them open and left objects—a drinking glass and a cell phone—inside their bodies. Three months after the assaults when they arrested him, the killer still had bits of the victims’ blood and tissue in his long hair. His parents sat in the courtroom and listened to him confess.

I wasn’t close to my uncle, but people I care about—my cousins and aunt—were devastated. My aunt had a heart attack after discovering the bodies. Fortunately, she recovered. The police suspected and questioned a family member (my second cousin) at great length, causing him (an innocent) and his parents unbearable distress. That whole family will never be the same.

Why am I telling you all this?

One of my cousins asked me to write about the crime, as a way of bringing some closure —a way of making sense of it. She meant in the form of fiction—and that’s what crime fiction does. It tries to make sense of, and find justice for, the violence around us. But I can’t make sense of this. There is no motive to explore, no complexities or connections to unravel. A young psychopath picked two random strangers and killed them for fun. He planned to kill more—with a baseball bat next—but the police arrested him just in time.

I wish I could help my cousins process their grief and pain by writing a novel that would do justice to their experience, but I can’t. So I had one of those moments today where I questioned what I do for a living. And whether I contribute anything meaningful or just add to the problem.

Our culture is so violent and murder so commonplace that this horrific crime wasn’t even prominent enough to make anything but the local news. But for the people affected, it was earth shattering.

To add to my fear and frustration, I read another news story about a Portland couple who were stabbed as they left a soccer game. A mentally ill man chose random strangers to stick a knife into, and the man died. His girlfriend is still in critical condition.

It’s a wonder that any of us can sleep at night. But we do. And we go out in public and live our lives. And many of us write crime fiction as entertainment. Someday soon, I will do more than that with my life. I will advocate for more mental health screening, more mental health funding. Wouldn't this country be a much safer place if yearly mental health screenings were mandatory for everyone between 10 and 40?

I'm determined to make a difference someday. And maybe lives will be spared.

When Cops Are Crazy

by L.J. Sellers, author of provocative mysteries & thrillers

Two recent new stories stuck in my brain, and I filed them both away for potential novel ideas. But I know I'll never use them because when the truth is stranger than fiction, you can't use it as fiction. Readers just won't buy it. But it's still fascinating, so I'll share these freaky cases involving police officers.

This first one happened in my home state of Oregon. Female police sergeant Lynne Benton had a longtime partner, a beautician named Deborah Higbee Benton. After many years together, Lynne underwent a gender change and became Lynn Edward Benton. The gender change caused problems in their relationship, but once they could legally get married, they did. Within a year, Lynn had lost his/her job as a police officer and Debbie had been murdered.

The case is still pending, but charges had been filed and detectives believe that Lynn hired Susan Campbell to murder Debbie. Susan Campbell has pleaded guilty, and in addition, her son, Jason Jay Jaynes, has been charged with murder. Debbie, who was horribly beaten to death, didn't do down easy, so Susan allegedly called her son to finish the job. All three—the transgendered cop, the hit woman he hired, and her son—will likely be convicted of murder.

Speculation is that Debbie wanted out of the relationship after her partner switched from female to male, and Lynn decided to kill her instead. My personal speculation is that Lynn was taking way too many male hormones.

The other case is just as strange. Gilberto Valle, a 28-year-old officer with the New York Police Department, created a document called a blueprint for “Abducting and Cooking.” His estranged wife reported the oddities she'd seen on his computer, the FBI got a warrant to search, and they uncovered several plots to kidnap, rape, torture, cook, and eat women. Yes, you read that correctly.

“I was thinking of tying her body onto some kind of apparatus,” Valle wrote to a co-conspirator in one email recovered by law enforcement. “Cook her over a low heat, keep her alive as long as possible.”

The investigators discovered files for more than 100 women on Valle's computer, with details such as the woman’s date of birth, height, weight, and bra size. Valle also made note of certain materials, such as chloroform and rope. Some of the women were his classmates from high school, and at least ten women confirmed that they knew Valle personally. A few had even dated him.

As yet, they have no evidence the officer acted on any of his plans... but I know I would feel better if they locked him away.

What real life crimes have you read about that are too strange for fiction?

PS: If you're a fan of my Detective Jackson novels, you can request an advanced review e-book copy of Rules of Crime at Net Galley.

How Should a Character be Killed?

By Andrew E. Kaufman

I know it’s an odd question coming from someone who writes thrillers, but recently, I had to give it a lot of thought.

I was about halfway through my latest novel, when I suddenly realized that one of my characters needed to die. It made perfect sense, and most importantly, was a crucial element in driving my plot.

Admittedly, I’ve killed off plenty of characters in my books, and figuring out the method was never a problem, but with this one, I actually hadn’t planned on it, so the surprise caught me a little off-guard.

I really had to think about this.

While killing off a character has to work well with the plot, just as important, is how they are killed. It has to connect with the suspect’s frame of mind and their motivation, fit perfectly within the story, and it has to make emotional as well as logical sense.

I’ve often read books where the method of murder made me scratch my head. It didn’t fit, seemed illogical, and as a result, bumped me out of the story. I remember one in particular where fancy explosives were used, and yet there was no mention prior to this that the killer had any knowledge on the subject. As a result, I lost confidence and interest in the story and in the author. I stopped reading.

In this instance, in my book, the killer was sending out a message, so it not only needed to be powerful, but it also needed to be specific and had to resonate strongly with my protagonist. I wanted it to shake him up in a very personal way. In other words, I couldn’t just shoot the victim dead because it wouldn’t have meant anything to the reader and would feel like a copout.

After a lot of struggling, a lot of thought, I did finally figure it out. I don’t want to give away the story before the book comes out, but I will tell you this: the message was that my protagonist was playing with fire.

I think you can figure out the rest.

But how about you? Authors, what goes into your thought process when you decide to kill off a character? Do you ever struggle with it? 

Readers, what’s your experience been? 

Is it Murder Writing a Mystery?

By Jenny Hilborne

In a literary sense, the word mystery always brings to mind the word murder. For me, the two go hand in hand, as comfortably as Mr. and Mrs. or Tom and Jerry. A good murder mystery usually includes a corpse pretty early in the story. The tension and suspense increase as the investigation takes place, culminating (hopefully) in a satisfying conclusion. Readers like me enjoy the dark, twisted elements of a murder and the psychology behind it, the thoughts of the killer.

Not everyone likes to read the strong language that usually goes along with a dark murder, or the graphic violence some authors include, which is understandable. Recently, a different question was raised in a forum I came across, which made me think. The reader asked if a good mystery always has to include a murder. I'd never thought about it before. I've never read a book or watched a movie where the mystery did not involve a murder. Not that I'm bloodthirsty or anything, but my initial thought was, 'how dull.'

I tried to imagine a good detective story with a crime other than murder. With no investigation and no body, how would it start? Other crimes could include theft, kidnapping, or a disappearance, but they all seem a bit flat to me. Not enough, I suspect, to hold my interest for the length of a novel. Maybe for a child, a mystery without a murder would be appealing read. It doesn't grab me.

I do like to be shocked when I read, which is one of the reasons I love mysteries and thrillers. Violence and bad language, as long as they fit the story and are not there just for the shock value, are fine. Murder is the most shocking crime of all for me and I can't imagine enjoying a mystery without a murder. What are your thoughts? What great mysteries have you read that don't include a single murder? If you haven't read one, do you think you'd find it satisfying?

The Wrong Way to Measure a Knife Wound

By Tom Adair
Author of The Scent of Fear

I don't want o get too technical here because, let's face it, the topic is kind of gross. Bu there is a wrong way to measure a knife wound at autopsy. Making this mistake in the real world can have disastrous consequences but in a novel it can be downright exciting! Before we start let's examine why we might measure a knife wound.

The main reason it to get a better understanding of the blade type. Knives (and other sharp instruments) can have many sizes and shapes but they will be either a single edged blade (one side only) or a double sided blade (like a dagger). A wound from a single edged weapon will have one "blunt" end and one "pointed" end. But CSIs also want to know something about the size of the blade. Not just the length but the width.

Here is where is gets tricky. 

The body (and skin) is pliable. As such, it can stretch and distort the wound depending on how the weapon is applied. Because of that, wound measurements are generally considered "maximum" measurements. For example, if you find a knife wound that is 4" deep in the abdomen does that mean a 3 1/2" knife can be excluded? The short answer is no (assuming that the abdomen was compressed a half inch during the thrust). Most of us have at least that much play in our gut don't we (if you answer no, I don't like you anymore ;))? Now sure, an 8" knife may only penetrate 4" but usually when someone is stabbing another they are doing it with a lot of force and the blade will go all the way in. But the other characteristic to consider is the width of the blade. That is the distance between the two ends of the wound.

Knife wounds often resemble a "football" (American) or an oval with pointed ends in shape. The reason for this shape in part rests with the elasticity of the skin. There are also properties called the lines of langer but I won't get into that level of detail here. Just realize that skin can lay open when cut. This can effectively shorten the distance between the two ends and thus, the total width. So when measuring the total width of the wound the pathologist will pinch or press the two sides together (like closing the wound) before measuring. Another issue is that since a knife blade cuts, it can expand a wound depending on how the weapon is wielded.

So as a writer, what does this mean for you? Well, knife wounds often go through more than skin. They can go through clothing as well. Here is how you can insert some mystery to your scene. Imagine a pathologist doesn't "pinch" the ends together and measures the wound as being 25mm in width. The body is then cremated. Now let's say your detective (or other character) looks at the clothing and the knife hole is 30mm? What kind of confusion might that cause? Now technically there are a lot of things that can affect the size of a hole in clothing as well. Blood saturation can shrivel a hole to make it appear smaller but you get the point. Mis-measurement is a problem in any area of forensics but when it happens with the murder weapon or wound the results can be disastrous! 

I don't just bump people off

By Gayle Carline

Although I technically write more humor than mystery, my friends usually associate me with my mysteries instead of my columns. I blame this on conversations I have with them, like this one:

Tina: "A bunch of us are performing a hula at the fundraiser. You're a dancer. You should join us."

Me: "I don't know, the hand movements are so precise. One wrong flick of the wrist and instead of describing a pearl in an oyster, I'd be telling them to wrap the body in plastic."

You see how it is.

But I don't always see murder in every gesture, or bodies under every bush. And I confess, I don't always read mysteries or thrillers. I think it's important to read a lot of genres, just as I listen to a wide array of music styles and try foods I've never had. It broadens my experiences as a person, and it keeps my writing from getting formulaic.

One of the blogs I read is not mysterious in the least. It's called Synch-ro-ni-ing. I don't know very much about the author, except her name is Ruth and she writes beautiful poetry and takes pretty photos, and lives where she can have chickens and a lot of space to wander around and think. Hers is the one blog that makes me long to leave southern California for more space and real seasons, except I've already told Dale we can't buy a farm in the middle of nowhere because as we grow older, we'll need to be close to the pharmacy. And I still recall having to dig my car out of the snow and scrape the ice from the windshield, so the whole "real seasons" thing is only a theoretical wish.

Last year, Ruth posted a Nouvelle 55 on her site, based on an Edvard Munch painting. A Nouvelle is what the French call flash fiction, and someone challenged her to write a piece in 55 words, so she made up a genre: Nouvelle 55, flash fiction of 55 words based on a piece of art. She then challenged her readers to do their own.

How could I resist? I love flash fiction. I even have some of my scribbles posted on my website, under the category Fiction in a Flash.

So I took one of my favorite paintings, Woman with a Parasol, by Monet (which I've actually seen in the National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC).

And here's what I wrote:

Artists.

You use more than paint and canvas.

You consume lives.
"Stand just so - hold it! Don't move."
In the glow of evening, we expect the same fire
Of passion in your arms
But we cannot receive any because it isn't yours to give.
It belongs to Art.
Hurry, finish! I grow tired here.

See? I resisted the urge to throw in a crime to be solved. (But, between you and me, doesn't Monet's wife look like she wants to kill someone?)

Perhaps these exercises are wasteful to some. I could be working on my actual books, for Pete's sake. My reasoning is that any writing I do makes my writing stronger. My use of words is my instrument. This is just one way that I "warm it up" and prepare to play a song.

The Scents of Memory

Damage Control by Denise Hamilton.*

(Release date September 6, 2011.)

A review by Marlyn Beebe.

Maggie Silver's profession is damage control. She gets paid to clean up, or hide messes made by famous people. When we meet Maggie she's on her way to the home of an actor who has been accused of sexual assault by his children's nanny. Maggie's job is to spin the incident to make the nanny seem dishonest and mercenary in order to take the appearance of transgression away from the actor.

Before she has a chance to do much, however, her manager calls to tell her they have an even more important client back at the office. When she gets there, she's surprised to see someone she once knew very well: the father of her high school best friend, now a respected Senator.

When Maggie realizes what she is expected to do, she briefly considers resigning, but she knows she can't. She has a mortgage to pay and a cancer-survivor mother to support, and so she must recall of the unpleasantness that ended her friendship with Anabelle Paxton.

It takes some time before Maggie allows herself (and the reader) into the place where those memories are hidden. The gradual revelation of those memories begins with smells: sand and salt water, barbecue-flavored potato chips, patchouli. It's already been made clear that the olfactory sense is very significant to Maggie. In the first chapter of the book Maggie describes dabbing her wrists with perfume just before meeting a client:

...clean, crisp notes of citrus, bergamot and verbena. Nothing cloying or clobbering...Just a subtle scent amulet to infuse me with secret grace and power.

Ms. Hamilton skilfully describes Maggie's reactions to sights, sounds, and smells to increase the already strong empathy the reader has with her through the first-person point of view. We become so attuned to Maggie's senses and emotions that we can almost feel the heat of the sun on her arms, the dizziness caused by watching a record spinning on a turntable.

This is one of those books that (as I probably say too often) you will want to read slowly and savor, yet at the same time rush through to learn what happens. And what happens does not disappoint, save to signal the end of our time with Maggie.

Denise Hamilton writes the nationally best-selling Eve Diamond crime novels featuring a reporter who solves murders in contemporary multicultural Los Angeles. Hamilton is also an award-winning journalist whose work has appeared in Wired, Cosmopolitan, Der Spiegel and New Times. She writes a monthly perfume column for the Los Angeles Times called Uncommon Scents.

*FTC Full Disclosure: Many thanks to the publisher, who sent me an e-galley of the book for review purposes.

Dead Stuff

By Andrew E. Kaufman

I’m in the process of finishing my new novel, a psychological thriller that centers on the case of a three-year-old boy who was kidnapped and murdered more than forty years ago.During that time, I really had to dig down deep in order to portray the depth of emotion parents feel when this kind of tragedy occurs. It hasn’t been easy.

And several times while doing this, I also found myself asking the same question: why do we find murder so entertaining when really, there’s nothing entertaining about it? An odd question from someone who makes a living writing about it, but I'd never really given it much thought—until now, that is.

One look at the primetime television lineup clearly illustrates the point. Shows like CSI and Criminal Minds are more popular than ever, as are books of the same genre. It seems serial killers—and killers in general—are the villains we love to hate.

But why? Why are we so fascinated with the thing that should horrify us the most? After much introspection, I came up with a few theories:

We love a good puzzle

And is there any bigger puzzle than a murder? Crime solving has always been fascinating business. Even more intriguing are the modern-day advances in forensic science. It never fails to amaze me how much they can determine from so little. For me, the best mysteries seem to be ones that appear the most confusing—that is, until the investigator cleverly pulls it all together in the end. It’s the aha moment that’s the payoff.

The “Good to Know that Somebody has it Worse than me” Theory

Death is the ultimate dose of bad luck. It really doesn't get much worse than that, and no matter how bad things are in our own lives, we can always look at the guy who got whacked and think, “Wow, and I thought I was having a bad day.” It’s a form of relief, something that helps us put things into the proper perspective. Also, I think, humans are for the most part a compassionate species, and many of us feel a certain degree of sympathy for the victim, thus drawing us in even more

Justice, Media-Style

We love to hate the bad guys, but we also love seeing them pay for their deeds, and quite often in the world, that simply doesn’t happen. It makes us angry. Seeing justice served on the screen or the pages in a book tends to fill that void. We know it’s not real but still get to sample that emotion on some level,which restores a sense of decency to our world.

Morbid Fascination

Having said all that, there is a dark side to all this. Simply put: we like morbid. I'm not sure why, but we do. We may cringe or cover our eyes (then peak between our fingers) but there seems to be something about the truly bizarre and grotesque that fascinates us. Maybe it's as simple as this: it's human nature to be curious, and the more disturbing something is, the more curious we seem to become. We don’t really want to know, but we sort of do. It's the reason people slow down to look at a car wreck on the side of the road.

What about you? As always, I'm interested in hearing any theories you may have on this. Comments?

Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll

By Andrew E. Kaufman

As an author, I find it difficult to write about murder without taking a trip to the Dark Side. After all, I think on some level we sort of expect that. Logically speaking, if you're going to have a killer, then you're going to have deviant behavior. The two seem to go hand in hand. But just how dark and how deviant?

For me, I draw the line where gratuitous begins, and most often, that's where I find trouble lurking between the pages of novels. Using sex, drugs, or violence just for the sake having it or for shock value does a book little good. In fact, I think, it'll do more harm. Readers know the difference, and they know when they're being played. If you don't believe me, check out some of the emails I get. These folks know their stuff, and many understand plot structure as well as any author.

In my novel, While the Savage Sleeps, there is violence. No question. It's graphic and it's frequent. But here's the thing: it's also absolutely necessary. Not only are the plot and the characters driven by it, but the final resolution also depends on it. Without that element, the story would fall flat and the reader would likely feel short changed. Context is the key, and I think a good question for any author to ask him or herself when considering whether or not an element belongs is: Would this story suffer without it? If the answer is no, then chances are you don't need it, and chances are the reader will feel the same way.

As for sex, typically, I don’t put it in my books—not because I’m a prude or that I have anything against the act itself. It’s just that logistically it doesn't seem to make sense.

Here’s an example: There’s a killer on the loose, and Sam and Linda are running for their lives because he’s hot on their trail. If all that weren’t enough, Detective Holiday thinks Sam could in fact be the killer. The clock is ticking and the two must not only prove Sam’s innocence, they must also find the real suspect.

I don’t know about you, but I’m thinking sex is going to be the last thing on Sam and Linda's minds. Not only that, but it would seem in addition to slowing down the pace, adding this element would also detract from the story. Now I'll agree that there are authors who can expertly weave sex into a suspense thriller rather seamlessly, and I applaud them for that. It just so happens that I’m not one of them. But from what I’ve read, neither are a few others, and when I see it needlessly thrown in, it comes across as contrived and gratuitous. It’s also the exact point where they lose me.

There’s been a lot of discussion about the F-bomb, namely, whether or not it belongs in novels. I'd guess the answer depends on the reader’s tolerance level. Personally, I don’t have a problem with it, and I use it whenever I feel it’s necessary in terms of character development. My job is to make fiction seem real, and the reality is, people do use the word. I also believe that when implemented correctly it can add authenticity to a character. Think of it this way: if a cop said,“darn it” in a novel, would it make you want to continue reading? Not me.

Of course, throw in a drug-addicted, sexually compulsive, cussing sociopath, and really, anything goes. Again, it’s all about context.

Overall, I know opinions on this subject vary, and as an author I’m always interested in knowing what readers think. So I’d like to ask: Do these elements bother you in a book, and just how far is too far?