What We Have Written Week: HID FROM OUR EYES

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: My last novel, THROUGH THE EVIL DAYS, was published in November, 2013. In the five years since then, I've dealt with illness (mine,) boomerang children, college drop-outs, college searches, serious depression and what feels like a statistically unlikely number of loved ones dying on me. I struggled mightily with writing, and it often felt like I was never going to get back up on the horse I so loved to ride.

Which makes it all the sweeter to tell you today that the ninth Clare Fergusson/Russ Van Alstyne mystery, HID FROM OUR EYES, is done, turned in, and in the editing process right now. The projected publication date is "Winter '20," most likely January or February.

Here is a short video of me bringing the ms to St. Martin's Press.




And here's an excerpt, picking up shortly where I left off the last time we had WWW week - Russ and Clare, his mother and former chief Jack Liddle are on their way to a fundraiser to benefit the save-the-police-department campaign.

   Russ refrained from asking again about staying behind. It might not be so bad, with Jack Liddle to talk to. He was actually going to have the men up front and the ladies in the back on the way over, but somehow his mom and Liddle wound up sitting in the back with Clare riding shotgun as usual. Mom spent most of the ride catching Liddle up on the Save Our Police campaign – what there was of it to this point. What a name. “Too bad we're not a sheriff's department,” he said quietly to Clare. “Then it could have been SOS.”

      “How about Save Our Badges?” she suggested. He laughed.

        The road to the Langevoorts was typical of summer homes in the mountains. First a winding paved road, then a gravel-covered turnoff leading to several private drives, then another long stretch of rutted, beaten dirt. Most people who came to the Adirondacks liked to keep things rustic and traditional.

         They parked, and Liddle got out of the vehicle, crossed behind the rear and held the door open for Russ's mother. Clare, who had exited under her own power, gave Russ a pointed look. “I'll do it for you, darlin', but you have to have the patience to stay put until I collect you.” He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm.

       “Yeah, that's not really my style,” she said. “What a lovely camp.” It was a picture-perfect example of High Adirondack architecture, all creamy varnished logs and deep eaves. There was a broad slate walk to the doorway, with an overhang to keep off the rain. “That's odd. Don't these sort of places usually have a porch?”

       “It's on the other side of the house,” Liddle said. “Wraps around on two sides.” Russ looked at him. “I've been here before. A long time ago, but it hasn't changed much. It belonged to Mr. Candice, then.”

       “He was the last president of the company,” Clare said. “Kent Langevoort took over from him. And now, of course, he's handing the reins over to someone else.”

       “And so the wheel of time turns,” Liddle said. “MakeS me miss the old days, once in a while.”

       “Trust me,” Margy said. “If you were a woman, you wouldn't be nostalgic at all.”