Friday Feature
A Talk with
Janis Lane
Author of
Murder In The Neighborhood
Just a note about Murder in the Neighborhood before we turn the blog over to Janis. Donald’s five star review of the book was titled “Twist and turns in a small town” and said that while the book starts slowly with a homicide investigation, the rich descriptive tapestry of the small town of Hubbard, in Western New York, in the first weeks of October keeps you interested. The hero, Detective Kevin Fowler, is a splendidly described character and the book picks up momentum with the arrival of the heroine, Miss Beverly Hampton, and continues to pick up speed to the point that you do not want to put it down. You become engaged in the lives of the people of Hubbard, Beverly, Kevin, and whether or not he will be able to solve the murder. The twist and turns of their relationship along with the problems, of what seems an insolvable murder, make this book by Janis Lane one you should read.
Now over to you Janis.
Thanks for hosting me, Catherine and Donald. I always enjoy a visit with you two.
One of the most frequent questions I get asked is who I base my characters on. I try to explain that never do I put a real person in my books. In other words, I work like Dr. Frankenstein. I take parts of people and make another whole person, who is completely fictional.
In MURDER IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD, I confess to using my brother-in-law and his bride more than most. He is a cop and she works closely by his side. I’ve had some wild experiences as a house guest that stuck with me. One sleepy lunch time, I climbed in the back of his patrol car to catch a ride to the grocery store for a loaf of bread. I sat in the back staring sleepily at the cage, listening to the radio barking out unintelligible messages. Suddenly I was pulling G’s while the car hit breathtaking speeds. Next I knew we were sitting in the medium of highway 75 with a terrifying number of cars whizzing by on both sides. I counted at least 5 rotating lights on state patrol cars and thought there might just be something bad happening. Turns out a DB (dead body) had been spotted.
I think to this day, my brother-in-law had forgotten I was in the back seat. A writer won’t forget an experience like that soon. It’s fodder for a fertile imagination.
Settings are another subject. I admit freely I use parts of my village, thinly disguised and altered with another name, Hubbard, NY. It’s fiction, I hasten to remind you. Nevertheless, my friends thumb through searching what they might recognize.
Blurb:
A killer is attacking respectable citizens in picturesque Hubbard, NY, and leaving corpses on their front steps in the middle of the day. Detective Fowler isn’t certain who causes him to lose the most sleep, a certain sexy reporter with bouncing curls and sparkling black eyes, or the elusive psychopath creating panic in his small-town community. Together, the detective and the reporter race to find the monster in their midst and return the town to the desirable place where people come to raise their families in peace and contentment. Can they sort through their differences to find romance even as they search for a determined stalker with murder on his mind? The clock ticks down on a man in a rage with a deadly mission.
EXCERPT:
The seasoned detective supposed it was as good a day as any to die. He had seen bodies frozen in the snow, rotting in the rain and in sun so hot the flesh cooked on the bones before the vultures could find them. This death was almost dignified in contrast. The woman appeared as if she decided to take a rest on her steps and someone came along and taped her face up until she smothered. There seemed to be no struggle; just that claw shape to the hands and the swollen face with the one bulging eye. She was still stiff with rigor mortis, hadn’t been dead so very long.
Closely, Fowler studied the woman staring sightlessly at blue sky filtered through an overhead canopy of trees. Dyed blond hair, roots showing an inch of gray, stood thinly away from her head, which sat, almost neckless, on fat-padded shoulders, her waist merely an indentation before the rounded stomach began. Wide jeans rolled up at the ankles and a pair of scruffy bedroom slippers stuck out at right angles. A red sweat shirt, letters reading, “Gentlemen prefer blondes,” inundated across large mounds of breasts. Sitting to one side, a plastic jack-o-lantern filled with dried grasses grinned grotesquely.
Eddie, the rookie policeman, pushed his hat to the back of his head, then reached for the yellow crime scene tape to encircle the house and small front yard. He glanced enviously at the detective who matched him in height, but outstripped him in breadth of shoulders. Fowler was wearing a light-weight jacket unzipped underneath which peeked a semi-automatic in a shoulder harness.
Detective Kevin Fowler couldn’t claim a handsome face—the broken nose settled that—but his square jaw, the dimple in his chin and the rich chestnut hair which fell in a stubborn hank over his forehead captured the attention of the female officer busily collecting evidence. She tucked a plastic baggie into her work kit, sealed it with tape and wrote with a black marker across the top. As she snapped her plastic gloves off and gazed at Fowler with an intent expression on her face, her partner felt a stab of envy. Damn him anyway, Eddie thought, but without any real malice or heat. Fowler was a hard man to hate.
“Duct tape again. The universal-versatile tool brought to a new use,” Jill, the uniformed policewoman, joked to maintain her center of gravity. She hadn’t been in on many homicides.
“The killer had to be a man. You males are all fascinated to find new uses for that gray tape.” She had drifted close to where Fowler was standing as he gazed down at the body. She pushed at her blonde hair, tucking it around her ears, and Eddie the Cop knew she was attracted to the detective. She used that unconscious gesture to the face and hair that women do when a virile man arrives on the premises. He watched enviously.
“Yeah, a big roll of duct tape can sure come in handy,” Fowler answered absently.
“Photographer been here yet?” he asked. He grunted with satisfaction when the answer was yes and reached over to brush a leaf out of the dead woman’s hair.
“Ambulance on the way?” He took a small notebook out of his pocket and wrote a line or two, glancing over at the corpse.
“He’s a little late, but on the way,” Eddie answered. “Wreck out on the highway with injuries. He’ll be here presently.”
“How about the Medical Examiner’s office? Anybody from there show up yet?”
“Nope. We called it in right away, and they said they’d be here soon. Haven’t heard a word since,” Eddie answered.
“Get some bags on those hands, will you, Jill?” Fowler glanced up at the officer who jerked around to reach for her equipment with an embarrassed look on her face.
“Either of you move the body? Move anything? Touch anything?” They both shook their heads no.
“How about the photographer? He mess around with the evidence?” Jill shook her head vehemently.
“He’s still here. Went over to his car to get another camera, I think.” She pointed to a van parked down the street. “He was very professional, as usual. Took a lot of pictures though. Thought he’d never get finished. You’d think he’s never worked with a corpse before. You want me to get him?” she said as she slipped clear plastic bags over the victim’s hands and fastened them with rubber bands.
She didn’t add that she hadn’t either. This was a first for her partner and her, but they knew the routine. Just that in a small town, nothing much this serious ever happened. They didn’t get many, if any, chances to practice what they had learned at the academy. She’d almost lost her cookies when she first got there, but she had a good handle on her stomach now.
“No. I expect he’ll be back in a minute.” Fowler looked down the block.
It was a near perfect, early October day, the third on a Wednesday; temperatures in the mid 60’s, sun shining with a mild zephyr puffing by now and then. An expectant hush had fallen over one of the residential neighborhoods of the small town located in Western New York. The neighbors had to be peeking out their windows—two black and whites parked in the front yard –but were respectfully remaining inside for now. Fowler thought he understood. Hubbard was, by and large, a town of mannerly citizens and good sidewalks. People walked out safely and often and it was unusual on such a nice day to see the scenery totally devoid of human activity
“Either of you question the neighbors? Who made the call?”
“A neighbor. She had to go. Said she’d be back soon and gave us her name and address. She stayed with the body until we got here. I think she lives a few doors down.” Eddie handed over a scrap of paper with the address which Fowler looked at and stuck in his pocket.
A new black sedan pulled to the curb and three men exited. Eddie breathed a sigh of relief as he recognized the doctor and his assistants. The representatives of the ME’s Office had arrived and would handle the body and the forensic evidence which had been gathered from then on.
Fowler looked the new arrivals over and shook his head. Those doctors got younger every year. This one must be so fresh out of med school his ears still looked moist, even though they had to spend extra years specializing in forensic pathology. Or else he was getting old. Nah. They were graduating babies.
They all turned at the sound of a siren and the flash of red lights that signaled the arrival of the ambulance. It whined to a stop at the curb, scattering dried leaves and sending them whirling red and gold. A couple of neighborhood dogs barked wildly and one howled. The sirens must sound like a freight train moving through to the dog’s ultra sensitive ears, Fowler thought and could see doors opening and a few heads popping out up and down the street.
Buy Link: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1619355701?redirect=true&ref_=s9_simh_gw_g14_i1_r
BIO: Janis Lane lives and writes in picturesque Western NY. She divides her time between her computer, where she writes Cozy Mysteries and Regency Romances, and the plant nursery where she plays with plants, flowers, and bouquets. Look for a new Detective Kevin Fowler release, MURDER ON BLAKE HILL, due out summer ’16.
New Regency by Emma Lane will debut in March: Tutored by a Duke.
emmajlane.com
Face Book: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000338539637
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C.D. Hersh 