As I'm building my novel, the one I call the "Murder Book", I have to be honest and say that I'm not completely sure I want to make some of the characters as cliche as they may already be developing. I mean, I have a "Plain Jane" type woman whom I haven't named yet. She's Scottish, possibly from up around Aberdeen, I think I want her to have a Doric accent. She's taller, thinner, and somewhat strong physically, as she's the one who pushes her bi-sexual husband over the edge of Arthur's Seat. She'd have to have some sort of backstory to explain her abilities to do it. Maybe she works on the wharf. Maybe she's in healthcare and handles some of the larger more dense patients when others can't. Maybe, just maybe, she's boring to look at, boring to speak to, boring to hang with, and her husband found as many excuses as he could to be away from home. Maybe. I haven't decided.
The year is 1931, and the story's locations span the globe from Chicago to Edinburgh, but there will be at least a layover in New York City's harbor area. The characters travel by ship rather than aeroplane; there has to be some romantic encounter at sea. I don't believe the wife would or could handle a torrid sexual affair, but the man could - - Nah, it will probably end up being my detective Nick Posh who has the love scene(s). Nick is full, chock full, of character flaws, believe me. He himself is suspected of murder in a town just east of Edinburgh called Dunbar. Dunbar is a coastal city really, with plenty of great hubs and piers to hide a body if one needed to. Remember, it's not the act of murder, but the disposal of the body that really matters. Nick is a pro. He both tends to business and he knows his business. His return to Scotland wasn't accidental, discovering the body of the singer-songwriter was in fact, accidental.
The murder was just that, a murder. It really isn't the focus of the book. I still haven't decided if I'll keep the singer dead or have him found by Nick's terrier-dog "Hyde" (for Hyde Park) maybe three days after the fall. Maybe Hyde pisses on the man's face and we see him twitch? I may just leave him dead. He's not a good guy. He's not a truthful guy anyway. He lied to his wife, their families, the church, the parishioners, and the folks who tuned into their radios to hear him singing live at various times throughout the years. Most Christians would have little to do with the man in 1931. Should I throw in a bit of repentance? Maybe some tolerance? Should he be forgiven or given another chance? How many character flaws can one recovering addict have?
The murder isn't the focus of the book. It's hardly a part of the book at all. It's like the first three minutes of a good cop show where the real or meaningful characters gather for the intel to be shown and seen; the real story is how Nick can find a way to escape returning to the scene of a previous murder and solve the one he found without being caught; without being another tight white curl on the Lord Justice's powdered wig! Nick's ability to weave in and out of trouble is amazing. For years he's avoided being connected to the gangster life of Glasgow by hiding in and/or around Edinburgh. When the mood hits him, or the timing is right, he books an overseas board on whatever ship is sailing at whatever hour is best to make his exit. Can there be a bribe offered for the Lord Justice this time? We'll have to see.
One thing is for sure, the singer-songwriter has run out of hymns and prayers with me. His best bet now is to cry to God before he gives up that last breath of his. The pen is not the sword they say, no sir, it is far more brutal and carries with it deeper cuts than any blade. You may have pissed off your Plain Jane and received your rightful judgment; it was my pleasure as the author to see to it that the docket never carries her name within its bounds. Perhaps meaningless is just that, meaningless. Of no consequence whatsoever. We'll have to see.
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