Heat Does Not Make a Cool Mystery
A month of on and off temperatures in the nineties and my
writing feels like meatloaf reheated for the third time. It was good the first time, was leftovers the
second, and is just garbage on the third go around. Can I make heat work to my advantage as a
writer?
I believe strong settings make the best in murder
mysteries. Like Agatha Christie I like
the small country village where a body or two rattles the peace of the place
and shakes some long-held secrets out of family trees. Even when I travel to my Florida residence
for the winter, I go to a rural setting.
I journey south for the reasons most do—to get away from the frigid
weather here in upstate New York. I’ve
spent enough winters in this place to know I could write about them without
experiencing them again. It’s not as if
I need a more recent reminder of how one’s nose hairs freeze together or the
difficulty of getting out of the drive when the snowplow shoves all that frozen
muck in front of a newly shoveled driveway.
It gets hot in Florida, but we have a thing called air conditioning. As much as I admire the ingenuity of Yankees,
some folks here in the north act as if AC is something only southerners
need. I’ve even seen people driving around
here with their windows down when the temperature is ninety or more. The recent heat waves in the north are a bit
unusual, resulting in a run on air conditioners in the local “Big Box” stores
which always seem to stock just enough air conditioners to satisfy customers
buying early, say in April or May, but not enough for those of us who want one
NOW! Because it’s hot NOW!
Actually, we have two air conditioners which we are not
using in this heat. My husband says it’s
not hot enough, but then he was the guy who drove all the way through Texas in
three digit temperatures with the windows down in the a car. He said he was trying to acclimatize himself
to the heat, but I don’t think the poor dog understood this. He also rode his motorcycle out west through
Phoenix when the mercury reached 126 degrees.
Head in a helmet at that temperature spells stew to me.
So here’s my question.
I’ve used natural disasters big and small—a drought, a hurricane,
thunderstorms, wind storms, floods, blizzards, and other bad weather—to
underscore setting in my work. Does
extreme heat constitute this kind of a disaster? And if so, how can it be used effectively? It’s not like the excitement of a tornado
bearing down on the area and a murderer searching for another victim in the
storm. Or the killer has tied the
protagonist to a pipe in the basement and floodwaters are rising around
her. Or we could go with the tension of
two lovers trying to outrun the waters of a tsunami. How about someone whose AC doesn’t work and
the killer stalks them, but they’re too wiped out by the heat to fight
back. That’s as bad as that
thrice-served meatloaf. Here’s the best
I can do when heat and setting come together:
The heroine lay on the path where she had tripped over the
body of Reginald Beeftin.
“Oh,” she said to her detective friend, “Someone’s killed
poor Reggie.”
“Not so. He’s simply
prostrate from the heat. No one’s got
the energy to bump off people in this weather.”
Our heroine got up, slowly, very slowly, careful not to
exert herself too quickly, or her mascara would run. She kicked Reggie’s body.
“Nope. He’s dead.”
“Who could have done such a thing?” the detective asked.
“Someone who’s found the secret to keeping cool and can move
quickly.”
She spotted a guy wearing sneakers and leaning against a
nearby oak tree, a frozen Margarita in his hand.
She slowly, very slowly walked over to him (by now you can
guess why) and said, “Why’d you kill Reggie?”
“Because he tried to steal my drink.”
She nodded. “Justifiable
homicide.”
The detective put away his handcuffs.
You get my point.
Heat is not exciting. It can make
you downright irritable, but it’s not the stuff of which mysteries are
made. Not in my book, anyway. Okay, fine.
You try, but first you have to wrap your head in a heating pad for an
hour or so to get into the mood.
Note: Above was written when the thermometer on our back
porch read 93 degrees. Be sure to
duplicate that temperature when you try your story and let me know how it goes.
Short Blurb for Poisoned
Pairings
Murder again stalks the breweries of
the Butternut Valley and with it, something potentially more
explosive—hydraulic fracturing or fracking, a gas exploration technique that
could destroy the air, water, and serenity of the region and pit neighbor
against neighbor; and this time Hera must pursue the killer alone as well as
find some way to bring an end to the fracking controversy before it tears apart
her once peaceful community.
About the Author:
Lesley retired from her life as a professor of psychology
and reclaimed her country roots by moving to a small cottage in the Butternut
River Valley in upstate New York. In the
winter she migrates to old Florida—cowboys, scrub palmetto, and open fields of
grazing cattle, a place where spurs still jingle in the post office, and gators
make golf a contact sport. Back north,
the shy ghost inhabiting the cottage serves as her writing muse. When not writing, she gardens, cooks and
renovates the 1874 cottage with the help of her husband, two cats, and, of
course, Fred the ghost, who gives artistic direction to their work. She is author of several short stories and of
two mystery series, both featuring country gals with attitude: the microbrewing
mystery series set in the Butternut Valley and this rural Florida series, Dumpster Dying and Grilled, Killed and Chilled.
For something more heavenly, try her mystery Angel Sleuth. She invites
readers to visit her on her blog and website.
Comments
I don't have to "duplicate" the temperatures; I've been living in them! This has been the hottest summer in Cincinnati that I can remember.
Actually, your post hit home in another way. The third novel in my Malone mystery series will take place in the summer in Cincinnati when an unexpected heat wave causes tempers to flare. And, when tempers flare, people sometimes kill people. :)
Nice post, Lesley. Thanks for being our host, Marilyn.