Why do you pick up a cozy mystery and read? Is it because you like the characters or is it the setting? Do you like to try to untangle that snarled web of a mystery before the protagonist does? Have you noticed that in the cozy mystery genre, there’s a lot of leeway, a lot of differences? Some cozies have elements of a romance story; some are nearly a detective story; some saunter into the paranormal realm and some follow a definite formula. Do you read a series because you know what to expect from the author?
Why do readers read what they read and why do writers write what they write? Why do I write the Darcy and Flora series? Or the Ned McNeil series? Well, you see, I’ve got all these ideas for mysteries, churning away in my brain, and they just beg to see the light of day on the written page. Mysteries abound in real life and when I see a loose end in the web of a story, I have this compulsive urge to grab that thread and untangle the snarl.
I like Darcy and Flora. And, I like Ned too. I’m comfortable in the towns of Levi and Ednalee. In fact, I know pretty much every nook and cranny. They are neat places and I’d like for you to think so too.
Darcy and her mom, Flora, are the kind of people who invite you in for a cup of coffee and are genuinely interested in your problems. They want to help if they can. But beware! Their brand of help gets down to the heart of the problem and can prove to have hidden dangers.
And Ned? Well, Nettie Elizabeth Duncan McNeil landed back in her hometown after an absence of forty years and found herself smack dab in the middle of a murder. Of course, she couldn’t leave the mystery unsolved, especially since the victim was her dear uncle.
Probably every author has favorite parts in the books she writes. In The Cemetery Club, I really liked writing about the car chase, the tumble down Deertrack Hill, and what came after:
Something wet dripped onto my face. Very annoying. Did Mom know that her roof leaked? Dad would never have allowed such a thing. My bed must be under a hole in the roof. Strangely, someone, somewhere was groaning. Pain twisted my mid section. Slowly, I raised my heavy hands and felt the seat belt stretched tightly around my waist. Horror gripped me as memory returned. I was the person groaning and my head, as well as my stomach hurt. This nightmare was real and I was not waking up safe and secure in my childhood bedroom.
And, here’s a sneak peek at the newest Ned McNeil book–in fact, it is still in my computer and hasn’t made its way to my publisher yet:
“Yes, well, some things are so far in the past, you know, and dredging them up doesn’t do one bit of good—just brings back sad memories. Besides, you were a child when your folks took you to Atlanta. I was glad when I heard you were back in town. You see, I am not getting any younger, hard as that is for me to believe, and I need to take care of a few things before I leave this beautiful plantation that has been my family’s home for a mighty long time.”
I had a feeling there was no use in responding to Miss Evangeline, because she was what my father used to call, “wound up.” She wanted me to listen, so that’s what I did.
Without warning, she grabbed my wrist. I jumped. She whispered, “Shh. What was that? Did you hear anything, Nettie?”
Her grip was so tight, my wrist hurt. Fear shone from her wide, blue eyes.
I lowered my voice too. “No.”
The hand that gripped my wrist shook. My mouth went suddenly dry at the abrupt change in her manner.
“You go peek around that corner and I’ll look in the pantry.” She pointed toward the hall.
Torn between feeling silly and being afraid of what I might find, I did as Miss Evangeline ordered. I saw nothing but the area we had just walked down to get to the kitchen. Something, however, felt different. Maybe it was Miss Evangeline’s terror that had communicated itself to me, but I had a feeling of menace, and I shivered, as if a cold breeze had just passed through. Was that a muffled sound of some sort? Holding my breath, I listened. A footstep? A creaking floorboard? Had someone been listening to our conversation? A cold prickle of fear ran down my spine as I turned back to the kitchen.
“Well?” Miss Evangeline asked as I stood beside her at the table.
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
“This house is so old that a few family ghosts may linger, you know. They are friendly, nothing to be afraid of, but real people—well, that’s something else! Maybe I’m just imagining things, Nettie, but I don’t think so. You see, I’m pretty sure that somebody is trying to kill me.”
And, favorite parts abound in Grave Shift, Best Left Buried, Grave Heritage, Moonlight Can Be Murder, and By the Fright of the Silvery Moon. I’m sure that in each cozy you read, there are sections that give you a case of the delicious shivers and make you glad to be enjoying all those scary scenes from the safety of your snug, safe home. Fun to write, fun to read–that’s what makes a successful cozy mystery.
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