Murder in Middle C

Murder in Middle C

This is an excerpt from a murder mystery that I have been developing over the last year. I anticipate that it will be ready for full publication in the spring of 2026. Let me know what you think!

That confounded musical hammering from above had started up again. Dottie sat directly below it in front of her own keyboard and fumed.

In truth, she hadn’t had any intention that day to actually play the piano; she had positioned herself on the bench so she could have a clear view out the window to the courtyard below. She didn’t need the soap operas on TV for her daily entertainment. From here she amused herself with the real life dramas starring a cast made up of her very own neighbors from the Bluffs. She could see that the Cartwrights had a new nanny. This must be the seventh so far since their child was born. Honestly, she thought. Can’t people take care of their own darn babies? She hated thinking about babies. Avoiding the topic had helped her come to terms with her own circumstances. But, she reasoned that if she and Ronald hadn’t been infertile – they never did discover which of the two of them was the cause  – she would have taken proper responsibility for the raising of her little one.

Some boys were racing around the paved pathways on their bikes, terrorizing a bunch of girls attempting to jump rope and causing them periodically to scatter, screaming. More raucous noise emanated from the playground in the farthest corner of the Bluffs property. She couldn’t tell if it was from playfulness or argument. Upbringing to blame, she thought. No manners, no respect, no safety. Her children, should she have had any, would never have behaved like that.

The drama from below had just begun to get intriguing, as she could see both Mrs. King and Mrs. Kelly heading toward the pool with their beach bags and high-heeled sandals, each trying to look like age fifty wasn’t  just around the corner. Dottie had seen Mrs. King with Mr. Kelly a few times and was certain that those encounters were not entirely innocent. But as soon as the two women crossed paths and began to have angry words with each other, the musical racket from above had begun, distracting her and derailing today’s installment of Peyton Place à la Horseshoe Bluffs.

It took her no more than a minute of this interruption to march over to her closet and arm herself for battle. Less carefully than usual – so swift and violent was her anger on this day – she mounted the bench with the broom and, teetering on the edge while yelling from her depths, struck the ceiling five times with such force that she almost knocked herself off.

And then miraculously, the playing stopped. Stunned at the effectiveness of her attack, she stood there in a daze for several long moments. Then, hearing a noise, she looked down and caught her breath in horror.

“What are you doing in here?”

These were Dottie’s last spoken words as she was brought down to the floor with a force she could not counter. And it was here that Ronald Newhouse found her when he came home hours later, her eyes wide open, her mouth agape, and three piano wires round her neck.

A Race to the Finish

A Race to the Finish

This is a tale for 8-15 year olds who have an interest in France, the French language, or auto racing. A hair-raising adventure, it follows a two-cousin racing team entered in the Mille Bornes – a one-time real road race in France. They drive through the actual race route from Paris to Genoa encountering trouble along the way. The story features many French terms that we use in English, which appear in blue text.

It was the eve of the biggest race of her life and Suzanne LaPlante couldn’t sleep. She rolled over in the luxurious bed in her room at the Paris hotel where she and her cousin and racing partner, Jean-Claude had checked in for the night. They had dreamed of being racecar drivers ever since their grandfather had taken them to the Grand Prix race near the town of Nevers when they were kids. It was in their blood. read more…

The Electrician

The Electrician

Part 1: Harly in the Drink

Harly may or may not be an actual electrician. He is, nevertheless, the man on whom we call these days when our wiring needs attention. He has replaced our former person, Glenman. Glenman may or may not have been an actual electrician as well, but it was he who did all the original electrical work in our Nevis home. And he may also be the reason that the wiring in our house so frequently goes on the blink. read more…

Mr. Lonely Hearts

Mr. Lonely Hearts

We wake up every morning to a rhythmic drumming on our metal roof. This is a new phenomenon, most likely brought on by the installation of our bird feeders that swing suspended from our third floor balcony. Our most loyal visitors from the very start have been the woodpeckers – the Downy, the Hairy, and (our most stunning) the Red-bellied. read more…

The Cruise

The Cruise

It was what we call at our house “a first world problem.” The day before my brother and his family were to visit us in our tropical home on the island of Nevis, the dishwasher broke.

It had been fading for the last year or so. First the buttons controlling the cycles froze so that the ability to change from ‘pots and pans’ to ‘light wash’ was no longer available. read more…

Greatest Hits of the 1970s

Greatest Hits of the 1970s

James Taylor almost sang at my wedding. During the waning days of winter in 1970, we were living in Cambridge with some Harvard Law students. Our friend Lou – a dropout from the Law School – had just gifted us a record album. On the cover was a skinny guy in a rumpled tan suit, wide paisley tie and beige suspenders, lying on the grass against a stone wall. read more…

East Side West Side

East Side West Side

“Well, they began it.”
 the Jets
“Well, they began it.”
the Sharks
“And we’re the ones to stop it once and for all…tonight.”
the Jets and the Sharks

I was just thirteen when I encountered the troubling reality that two people could share a singular experience and come away with opposite perspectives. The movie, West Side Story, was the vehicle of that lesson, and a childhood friend was my unwitting teacher. Meridith, wherever you are, I thank you. read more…

The Eye of the Beholder

The Eye of the Beholder

Beauty is no quality in things themselves: It exists merely in the mind which contemplates them; and each mind perceives a different beauty.
David Hume

In the summer of 2000, I was on the island of St. Kitts teaching in an international doctoral program as part of the university’s residency requirement for its graduates. I was preparing the students for their dissertation projects read more…

The Gift of a Hat

The Gift of a Hat

I write this on the day before the October 2, 2021 Women’s March for Reproductive Rights, remembering my participation in the first Women’s March of January 2017.

I have the best hat in the world. It is black and sags a bit to the side giving it the air of a living thing that moves this way and that as I turn my head. read more…

Do I Bow or Can I Hug?

Do I Bow or Can I Hug?

Do I Bow or Can I Hug?

I pondered this question as I sat on the ten-hour flight from Los Angeles to Haneda Airport near Tokyo for our first ever visit to Japan. Tatsuya had been a twenty-nine year old businessman when he joined our family briefly in 1994. He came as part of a cultural program being offered to my school at no cost: read more…