In a recent online mystery, I have stepped into the very fine boots of Miss Ivy Savage, Girl Criminologist (COLD STONE & IVY), to undertake the investigation of the apparent murder of amateur archeologist, Baron von Boddy. The details of the case were found here (Eye of Africa) and just today, we have been notified that Miss Savage has indeed proven her considerable prowess by being one of three who has solved the case. Here is her inestimable solution: 

Good day Madame Saffron,

On behalf of esteemed Girl Criminologist, Miss Ivy Savage of London, Empire of Steam, I would like to pose the following deduction.

She believes dearly departed Baron von Boddy has been proverbially put 'out of print' by his close friend, Colonel Billious Mustard. Yes, the gentleman has had a splendid military career but Miss Savage believes this has given him the exact skills to carry off such a daring and dastardly crime. Let me elaborate.

Motive: Colonel Mustard is in a grievous way in relation to his finances and once his dear friend Baron von Boddy found success with his latest fantastical adventure, he was very quick to leave London and disappear – to Cornwall or Cairo, we can only surmise.

Opportunity: Colonel Mustard is in a state of disgrace and is never at his regiment, at home, nor at his club. In fact, no one knows where he has gone. It is circumstantial but considerably suspicious.

Method: The good Colonel is an aeronaut of no mean experience, having been decorated multiple times along with his regiment. He is also a military man, and the pistol he is holding in a singular photochrome could very well be of the same caliber as the fatal shot which killed our dear von Boddy and made a hole in the airship’s window glass. (We do need a Police surgeon of Sir Thomas Bond’s quality to do the comparison. If he is not available, Miss Savage is certain she could presume upon young Christien de Lacey. He is not working much of late, given his rather peculiar circumstances.) Miss Savage proposes that Colonel Mustard met up with Baron von Boddy at Boddy Manor and for some reason, they were on the Jules Verne at the same time. A struggle ensued during which the Baron was shot in the back and killed. Mustard then dumped the body of von Boddy over the side along with the trunk to keep it submerged, gathered a canopy and cork life vest and leapt over the side of the Jules Verne with the mask and rode the winds to the Cornish shore, where he proceeded to hide the canopy and vest in the rocks.

There are, of course, other scenarios and Miss Savage has some questions that she would pose, were she there in person and not currently in Vienna investigating the apparent murder/suicide of the Crown Prince.

1)    In which direction was the shot through the window? From within the airship’s saloon or from without?

2)    Where is Baron von Boddy’s favourite coat and why is the body of von Boddy not wearing it? Was it removed and if so, before or after the photochrome with the Eye of Africa? Who was, in fact, wearing that coat?

3)    It is clear that Lady Peacock knows far more than she is letting on, and is most likely the very same widow to whom von Boddy gifted the jewels (at Mrs. Midas-White’s expense). And we know, courtesy the spider-eyes that she is currently in possession of the Eye of Africa mask so I would be quick to question the damsel before she disappears yet again. If you do manage to locate the vixen, Miss Savage asks if you would be so kind as to ask her how well she knows Colonel Mustard himself. Could she be said fellow’s accomplished accomplice?

4)    Is Oxford superior to Cambridge?

5)    Where is the Bloodshot Diamond and was the Eye of Africa merely a ruse? Will Professor Polonious Plum be indicted for theft of the steamtrunk?

6)    Is Baron von Boddy truly dead? (We might need to ask the Mad Lord of Lasingstoke for an assist on this one…)

So there, gentle lady, is the preliminary deduction of Miss Ivy Savage based entirely on the evidence presented. She wishes me to convey the fact that it has been an honour to study the methods of the most esteemed Hercule Hornblower and she looks forward to working with him again in the near future.

Your most humble servant,

H. L. Dickson

Do go back to the link and see if you can track her deductions, or perhaps stumble across a clue or two of your own. Kudos to Tim Ford and James Prescott, who have also corrected solved the mystery, and props to author Jayne Barnard (aka Madame Saffron) and the marvellous inventive Tyche Books for hosting such a ribald contest! We do love a good dead body!

There’s a crow calling through the trees. He’s agitated – you can tell by his sharp and repetitive squawking and it echoes across the forest like a clock ticking the seconds. The air is heavy with the smell of woodsmoke, the wool blanket across my legs heavier still. All I hear is the hiss and crackle of the old stone fire and the tapping of keys from the writer across from me. Oh yes, and the crow.

I’m at a cabin deep in the Canadian Shield, twenty feet from the shore of Lake Superior. Not an official Writer’s Retreat, not like the one we did in February (also on Superior’s shores, but opposite direction). That one was concerted, dedicated, productive. Five writers pulling monastic duty to create, edit, revise, brainstorm. No, this time it’s different. Just two of us, Jean E. Pendziwol and me.

Ah, chipmunks now, rebuking someone or something. They chatter like popcorn.

We’re both at a crossroads and we’ve set aside this time to make some decisions. Jeannie writes children’s stories, some funny, most poignant, all lyrical. Her latest work, ONCE UPON A NORTHERN NIGHT, was short-listed for the Governor General’s Award (which is a big deal in Canada) and her books are frequently on the best-seller lists of children’s books (also a big deal in Canada.) She has set herself a huge task – that of writing a novel, and her decision this weekend is whether to finish it or not. To overcome the hurdles of being an award-winning author in one niche and step onto the unknown soil of another. To lay aside her inner dictator and let the novel write itself and if not, to be okay with that outcome. Novels, it seems, are tricky beasts to tame.

A hawk now, his cry ringing like small stones on metal.

For me, it is a time of regrouping. I’ve just finished 2nd draft of COLD STONE & IVY 2: The Crown Prince and am mentally exhausted. Novels are also hungry beasts and there is nothing left of me other than editorial skin and emotional bone. It’s a strange place for me – empty, lost and devoid of story. I have a very busy life with an active family but when I’m writing, there is a part of me that is just ‘not there.’ There’s always another conversation going on in my head; there’s plotting and planning and scraps of dialogue that need to get onto paper (or laptop) as soon as my busy life will allow. But now, those voices are quiet and I don’t know what to do with the lack of sound.

Across the lake, an arrowhead of geese heading first to Southern Ontario then New York, then most likely Virginia to winter. They are taking the leaves with them.

Do I start the final chapter in CS&I? It would be a good idea, especially since I’ve just finished the second and the characters are fresh, the plot taking shape, and publishers circling like contented trout, nibbling, tasting but not biting yet. Or do I start something different, a diversion. A romance? (The Virtues of Dunn Eden) A mid-grade mystery series? (The Steam Team) A‘Remington Steele’-esque detective thriller? (Locke and Keyes) What about picking up BONES IN THE YEAR OF THE DRAGON? The Upper Kingdom occupies such a different room in my mind palace. In fact, it has its very own wing. Kirin would be pleased.

The wind has picked up on the lake now. Superior is so big, it is really a freshwater sea and the waves crash against the rocky shore like breathing.

In a few hours, we’ll crack out the wine and discuss what we’ve learned; if we’ve learned; what we’ve decided. It’s not life or death and in fact, it’s a blessing to be able to have this time away to take stock and think. Few people can do that, especially in a place this staggeringly beautiful and wild. The leaves are just beginning to turn but the air is cold. The bears are hungry, the moose are rutting. Winter is coming and here, in the north, that is not a meme. That is a harsh reality. Things die during our winters and yet, we stay. Tough birds, the lot of us. Still, we dream of summer.

The fire roars now, throwing sparks across the tile floor and I scramble to push the logs deeper in. Keeping it contained. Keeping it safe. There’s no Wifi, there’s no TV, not even a radio. Just the sound of the world and our keyboards and the fire. It’s a perfectly blank canvas, just us against the elements. Or maybe with the elements and you know how Kerris is with the elements. Bending them, shaping them just enough to keep us alive. If we fail, at least we died writing, which is not a bad thing. But I’d like to live just a little longer, if only for the sake of the stories.

The crow has flown across the window and is sitting in a tree branch, laughing. I’m glad he’s not a raven. The allegory would be too much for me. So we sit and tap our keyboards and wrestle with our decisions and stoke the fire as night wraps us in her cold blanket. We wait for the wine, or the morning and we’re okay with the waiting. When there are usually so many voices, the sound of silence is a terrifying, challenging, beautiful thing.

In fact, it’s deafening.

“So, again, with bright shiny newness, I uploaded first Tiger, then Lion, sat back and crossed my fingers to wait.”

It sold.

It sold some more. And it kept selling. In fact, within days, it was hitting the top 10 Amazon free and not just for its genre. I was blown away, so very pleased and I was sure that once the 5 free promo days were over, it would sink to the bottom of the 12 million, but it didn’t. Less than a month later, I released TO WALK IN THE WAY OF LIONS, and the same thing happened. Reviews began to come in, one by one and for the most part, they were all very positive. I felt like Sally Field on Oscar night (I will spare you the quote). I like praise as much as the next geek but really, to hear that something I had written actually resonated with people was affirming, encouraging – in a word, validating. But it was also challenging, for with it came a responsibility to keep it up, get better at it, improve.

But while I was enjoying success with Amazon, a part of me had become intrigued with this world of publishing, of agents and houses and contracts. If self-publishing was validating, how much more so traditional publishing? Actually getting ‘the call’, ‘a contract’, ‘an advance???’ These glittered like stars above my head but I did realize one very interesting fact – that while the Upper Kingdom series were brilliant, they were at first glance ‘niche.’ Cutting a potential readership pool into a very small slice simply because of the premise. I needed to write something more mainstream. I know, a romance! A paranormal romance! Yeah, yeah, that would sell! I could do it.

Except that I couldn’t.

Now, for years I had been dabbling in the fan fiction scene (I know you are rolling your eyes. I can see it. Roll away.) but NOT the kind you’re thinking of. Seriously, I’m not that kind of girl. They were mysteries, criminal cases, scripts and screenplays, complete with red herrings, complex supporting characters, story arcs and commercial breaks (cue fade to black). And they were so wildly successful in the forums that I decided to take the most popular of them and turn it into a novel. And so during the month of November 2011 and a NaNoWriMo challenge, COLD STONE & IVY was born.

It took less than six months but, as per my usual verbiose grandeur, it clocked in at 165,000 words or a healthy 650 pages. By this time, I knew the difference between agents and publishers, so I began to submit it to agents in Canada, the US and UK. I got immediate attention and five very big names requested fulls. Their comments were so encouraging – engaging, storyteller, great voice, great world-building. But still a newbie, I had also forgotten one essential ingredient. Editing.

Argh. Editing. The bane of writers, the blessing of authors. There’s the rub. Editors are like personal trainers. No one likes them and they hurt you like crazy, but boy oh boy, do they get you into shape. I sent off a chapter to writer and editor, Erica Orloff and she was like “I honestly never say this but this is amazing. You NEED to get this published.” We worked on it for months, getting it down to the lean, mean size of 145,000 words (or 580 pages) and in the fall of 2012, I resubmitted to several agents, and some new ones.

By Christmas, I had an offer of publication and two agents vying for the right to represent me and by January, I had signed with Jennifer Udden of the Donald Maass Literary Agency, a small but prestigious firm specializing in SciFi/Fantasy. I had fans crying for more of the Upper Kingdom but I had work to do to get CS&I ready for the ‘Big Six’ (it was still the Big Six at the time). What to do? What to do? Could I write one novel and edit another at the same time? All of this after hours of day job, parenting, being a wife, walking my dogs, shoveling snow, etc? That was a heck of a lot of work! Could I do it?

Of course I could. I buckled down and got to work.

To be continued… (Cause I’m mean that way. Really.)