55. Thinking about motive

BESTSELLERS & BEST FRIENDS

My book publishing blog, with murder mysteries woven through it.

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I’m working with colleague and friend Jack Keely on developing a children’s book series.  I’m smiling as I type that sentence because it’s the best thing I’ve ever worked on.  Really.  But it’s now in submission to several publishing houses so I can’t say much about it.  But here’s a hint:

Anyway, Jack’s written a couple of quietly published mysteries.  And is always working on another one that he hopes might find a home with a larger and more commercial house.

I mentioned to Jack that I too am playing around with writing a mystery.  Sadly, I’ve been playing for more than 25 years.  Really, mine may be the most often abandoned manuscript in history. 

Jack works hard at his mysteries.  He reads books about writing mysteries.  He pays for online classes about writing mysteries.  He outlines his books, takes lots of notes, follows all the rules.  Very disciplined.

Whereas I just open up a Word document and start typing until I have to pee or a Steelers game comes on.  Been doing that for over 25 years.

So Jack kindly sent me his short and simple guide to writing a mystery.  I now keep it right next to my computer. I set my coffee on it, scribble notes on its back, spill gin on it, and sometimes even refer to it:

See that second step?  Motive.

That got me to thinking. What’s the motive for these bookseller killings?  Who benefits from each of their deaths? 

Laurie had no immediate family or business partner.  She left everything—bank account, dishes, clothing, and her bookstore—to an aunt who doesn’t read.  And it’s not like somebody wanted that retail space—there’s no demand for storefronts in Ligonier.  No motive there.  Nothing. 

From what I can tell via a few phone calls and an hour of poking around online, same goes for the dead booksellers in New Hampshire and Maine.  No family, or a disinterested family.  The victims had businesses that bordered on hobby, they were barely vibrant enterprises.  There were no hidden vaults in their stores’ basements and no million-dollar Gutenberg bibles in their used book section.  No motives there.  Nothing.

I keep thinking about motive.

Then I go back to my stupid map of the Northeastern states (btw, those mapmakers really seem to like Canada). 

Bingo!

I think I’ve got it.

But I can’t risk posting it right now

Time for a call to Ligonier Police Chief Jim.

 

Tomorrow:  We’ll see.