A Sneaking of Shorts

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN:  What could be cooler than a sneak preview? And that's exactly what we have here today—courtesy of the fab Malice Domestic.  As they say in TV news: Shawn Reilly Simmons has the story. Er, stories. Er, short stories.

SHAWN: This just in! (Couldn’t resist.) After a fifteen year hiatus, Malice Domestic is pleased to announce the return of their annual short story anthologies. Malice Domestic 11: Murder Most Conventional, published by Wildside Press, will be released during Malice 28 (April 29 – May 1, 2016). The anthology includes twenty-two original stories and one modern classic reprint, each representing their own take on the “cozy” style of mystery, those in the tradition of Agatha Christie.

HANK: And the amazing Barb Goffman and Verena Rose and Rita Owens edited, (Barb really made my story shine--what a  terrific line and developmental editor. And they all worked so hard--putting together an anthology is a huge job) and  Katherine Hall Page wrote the thoughtful introduction. What a treat. The stories are hilarious. Clever—and very specific.

SHAWN: Yes, definitely!. The stories all have to do with some type of gathering or convention. But turns out, like any good anthology there’s a wide range of stories, from historical pieces to modern takes on fun gatherings.

HANK: Psst. Sneak preview!  Here are just a few samples. And you can tell, even from this, how amazingly different they are!

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From:  

THE PERFECT PITCH

by

 Marie Hannan‐Mandel

Before you begin to feel sorry for me, don’t. I’m here for an

inventors’ convention with my lint-collecting dryer sheet

prototype, the Lint-Locker—the guaranteed way to ensure your

laundry doesn’t get covered in lint—so I can meet James Maguire

O’Reilly, megastar inventor. As soon as I’d found out he was going

to be running workshops and hearing inventor pitches—something

he never does—I’d registered, even though it meant coming to

Maine in January. I signed up for every one of his morning

workshops, and I’m going to make sure he notices me. He’s going

to love my product and help me get financial backing for it. All he

needs is to hear my pitch.

Soon enough I’ve found my destination, a chain hotel on the

edge of town. It has cookies in the lobby, racks of brochures, and a

fake fire.

“I’m here for the inventors’ convention,” I say when I catch the

front desk clerk’s eye.

  

From 

The Vanishing Wife

by

Victoria Thompson

January 1899

“My wife has vanished.”

This was the last thing Frank Malloy had expected his welldressed

client to say. When rich men came to his Confidential

Inquiries office in Greenwich Village, they were usually concerned

with marital infidelities or dishonest employees.

“What do you mean, she vanished?”

Delwood Hooper rubbed a well-manicured hand over his pale

face. “I came home last evening, as usual, but my wife wasn’t there

to greet me. I asked our butler where she was, and he informed me

that she had left town.”

“Then she didn’t exactly vanish,” Frank said, settling back in

his chair. He was still breaking it in since it, like everything else in

his office, was brand new. “Didn’t he tell you where she went?”

“That’s the problem, you see. Marjorie occasionally does go

out of town to visit friends or relations, but she always leaves me a

note telling me exactly where she went and when she will return.

This time, she didn’t.”

From: 

Two Birds with One Stone

by

Rhys Bowen

“The pipes are playing to celebrate the Gathering of the Clans,”

I said. “Binky felt we should do the right thing with visitors from

all over Scotland coming together here. It’s a great honor, you

know, to be chosen to host the annual Gathering of the Clans. It

only comes to us about every twenty years. I was a toddler last time

it happened in 1913, but I vaguely remember all the fuss and that I

was terrified of those huge men in kilts and ran back to Nanny.”

“Huge men in kilts?” Queenie perked up at this.

“They’ll all be wearing traditional Highland dress for the

games.”

“What sort of games?” She was looking quite interested now.

“The Highland Games are the main part of the gathering,”I

explained. “You know, they toss the caber and throw the hammer.

All sorts of feats of strength.”

“They have strong feet?” she asked, puzzled.

I tried not to laugh. “No, I meant contests to demonstrate how

strong they are. You can go down and watch them practicing later,

if you like. My brother has set aside the meadow beyond the

stables as a practice field. Oh, and speaking of my brother, I have

to go and inspect the facilities after breakfast to make sure all is in

order. You know how—” I broke off. I had been going to say “You

know how hopeless he is about organizing things,” but one does

not criticize

From 

A Dark and Stormy Light

by

Gigi Pandian

A few years ago, while I was still a graduate student, I began

attending Asian History conferences. At the fateful gathering I will

always think of as The Conference, we didn’t fill up the entire

hotel. Instead, we found ourselves sharing the space with a mystery

writers’ convention.

If I’m being true to the story, I need to say that it began on a

dark and stormy night. If it hadn’t been for that storm, the whole

fiasco would have been avoided.

 From

The Clue in the Blue Booth

by

Hank Phillippi Ryan

I touched the flowered silk scarf tied around my neck, and the

strand of pearls underneath. It’s not usually necessary for me to go

undercover to blend into a crowd, because my whole life is

undercover. But coming here in costume had seemed prudent, and

now, surveying the lobby, the line of registration desks, and the

vast convention floor, it turned out my costume was not only

prudent, but hilarious. It was like being in a massive hall of

mirrors.

Blond wigs—or, on some, I supposed, real blond hair—scarves

and pearls and twin-set cashmere sweaters, stockings, and sensible

shoes. Plaid skirts. Some women carried magnifying glasses, and

some, like me, wore little vintage hats tilted rakishly over one eye.

A fluttering canvas banner suspended from the erector-set

ceiling announced why we were all dressed that way, and why we

were here—not exactly why I’m here, of course, but why the rest of

them were here. NANCY DREW CONVENTION, it trumpeted.

They’d included a huge graphic portrayal of the iconic silhouette of

the 1930s girl sleuth, all waved hair and cloche hat and pearls and

cardigan. Just like me.

Just like all the attendees, because all were requested to dress as

Nancy Drew. Clearly, these women followed directions. The

organizers had promised a big-time surprise guest speaker, and as

of now, word hadn’t leaked about who that would be. Not even to

me, which was somewhat unnerving. I don’t like surprises.

From

A Gathering of Great Detectives

      by Shawn Reilly Simmons

“What’s going on here today?” Detective Murphy asked,

making eye contact with his partner briefly before turning his gaze

back to the couple. “Are you having some kind of event or

something?” He glanced at their vintage clothes and Mrs. Adams’s

hair, which was curled and sprayed into place. They looked like

they’d stepped out of one of those old black-and-white movies his

mother was always watching. Mr. Adams wore a tux with a white

bow tie and Mrs. Adams was in a shimmery black evening gown

with a string of pearls around her neck. They were pretty decked

out, especially for noon on a Saturday.

Mrs. Adams placed a hand lightly on her chest and said, “It’s

our annual convention, A Gathering of Great Detectives.” She

waved at a wooden table along the far wall of the foyer near the

reception desk. A few leather badge holders with names written on

yellowing paper tucked inside were lined up on the table. “We

gather every year, about sixty of us, and solve a mystery.”

“Murder,” Mr. Adams boomed from behind her, causing his

wife to jump slightly.

“Yes, murder, that’s right, dear,” she said. “We’re different

from the average murder mystery weekend though. Attendees must

appear as their favorite detective and stay in character all weekend,

or until the mystery is solved.”

HANK and SHAWN: We bet you cannot wait to get your hands on one of hese! Friday night during Malice, right after the live charity auction, there will be a special signing event for the contributing authors, over twenty in total. We hope to see you there!  

 However,  Murder Most Conventional is also available for pre-order (http://tinyurl.com/hku7k6p)  For more info about Malice visit us at www.MaliceDomestic.org

HANK: And we’ll give a copy, of course, as a prize to one lucky commenter! This’ll be easy, since you don’t actually have to write the story—where would you sent a short story that had to be about a convention? I first contemplated a convention of convention planners.

Shawn Reilly Simmons is the author of the Red Carpet Catering mystery series published by Henery Press. The third book in the series, Murder on a Designer Diet will be released June 7^th. Shawn is a member of the Malice Domestic Board of Directors and a contributing author to the Murder Most Conventional anthology.

www.ShawnReillySimmons.com