As I grow older, I encounter more and more mysteries: why can’t I run like I used to? Instead of springing like a gazelle across the ground, why do I chug along like a car with bad spark plugs? Time was I could hear a whisper through a closed door. Now my conversations are punctuated with, “Heh?”, “Huh?”, “What was that?” And why in the world do those whose job it is to put labels on cans make the print so small that only an elf with a magnifying glass could read them? Oh, and one more thing–when did jar lids get so hard to open? So many mysteries, so few answers!!
However, the writer of cozy mysteries doesn’t dwell on those mundane questions. No, not she! For her, the mystery is much more exciting and, most important of all, it has an answer! Oh, maybe at first the answer to all the mysterious goings on is a bit murky but as I write, Darcy and Flora solve all the unknowns. Actually, I’ve found that often the protagonists take over the story. All I do is record what they do and say. Darcy and Flora have minds of their own. The plot of a good mystery may take several twists and turns; my eager heroines always follow a wrong path or two but in the end, they figure everything out and give the reader a satisfying conclusion to the story. Even the strangest events suddenly become clear and make sense as the story ends.
For example, in Grave Shift, Darcy hears a noise when she is sitting by Spring Creek on a moonlit night. She is all by herself, far from safety and she should have known better than to be there but hey! Darcy is a daring character. The source of the noise is a mystery.
An alien, crackling sound broke the stillness. A foot had stepped onto crisp, dry leaves somewhere close by. My scalp prickled. Suddenly I was aware of how alone I was and how far from help…Another noise and this time an unmistakable footfall, closer than the first. I was afraid to raise my head above the rock and look into the woods, afraid of what I might see…My instinct for self-preservation took over. I sprang up and ran toward my mother’s house and safety…I dared not look behind me… I heard something panting, coming closer and closer but maybe it was just my own breathing.
Anyway, the answer to this riddle turned out to be entirely unexpected and remained unsolved until near the end of the book.
And, a part of one of the mysteries that plagued Darcy and Flora in The Cemetery Club: I had never before been below the earth in an unknown, perpetual blackness with death waiting above and danger below. Now, memories of teenage tales told at slumber parties and around a campfire crept up on me and I could not dispel them, unwelcome as they were. Stories of unexplained lights flickering near old graveyards, of strangers who mysteriously disappeared, of eerie nighttime noises, not only knocked at my mind’s door, they moved in and took up residence.
So, I may not be in control of a lot of life’s mysteries but I can’t tell you how comforting it is to at least solve the riddles Barbara, my co-author, and I create within the pages of our books. When all is said and done, at least these figments of our imaginations, make sense!
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