The Story Behind the Story with Author donalee Moulton of Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada

 

Let’s welcome donalee to the Scribbler

I had the pleasure of meeting donalee at a book fair recently. She has kindly agreed to be our guest this week. She is an award winning author, as well as an educator and poet. Or as her website suggests,

… a woman of mystery …

Read on my friends.

 

 

donalee Moulton’s first mystery book Hung out to Die was published in 2023. A historical mystery, Conflagration!, was published in 2024. It won the 2024 Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense (Historical Fiction). donalee has two new books coming out in 2025, Bind and Melt, the first in a new series, the Lotus Detective Agency.

A short story “Swan Song” was one of 21 selected for publication in Cold Canadian Crime. It was shortlisted for an Award of Excellence. Other short stories have been published in numerous anthologies and magazines. donalee’s short story “Troubled Water” was shortlisted for a 2024 Derringer Award and a 2024 Award of Excellence from the Crime Writers of Canada. 

donalee is an award-winning freelance journalist. She has written articles for print and online publications across North America including The Globe and Mail, Chatelaine, Lawyer’s Daily, National Post, and Canadian Business.

As well, donalee is the author of The Thong Principle: Saying What You Mean and Meaning What You Say and co-authored the book, Celebrity Court Cases: Trials of the Rich and Famous.

 

Title: Conflagration!

Synopsis:

Conflagration!

On a warm spring day in April 1734, a fire raged through the merchants’ quarter in Montréal. When the flames finally died, 46 buildings – including the Hôtel-Dieu convent and hospital – had been destroyed. Within hours, rumors ran rampant that Marie-Joseph Angélique, an enslaved Black woman fighting for her freedom, had started the fire with her white lover. Less than a day later, Angélique sat in prison, her lover nowhere to be found. Though she denied the charges, witnesses claimed Angélique was the arsonist even though no one saw her set the fire.

In an era when lawyers are banned from practicing in New France, Angélique is on her own. Philippe Archambeau, a court clerk assigned specifically to document her case, believes Angelique might just be telling the truth. Or not. A reticent servant, a boisterous jailer, and three fire-scorched shingles prove indispensable in his quest to uncover what really happened.

Angélique’s time is running out as Archambeau searches for answers. Will the determined court clerk discover what really happened the night Montreal burned to the ground before it’s too late?

 

The Story Behind the Story:

This book was a gift from my publisher, BWL Publishing, which has a series of historical mysteries set in each province and territory in Canada. My publisher unexpectedly lost her Quebec writer and asked if I could step in. I couldn’t wait.

Conflagration!, a historical mystery that follows the trial of an enslaved Black women accused of arson in Montreal in 1734, is founded in real-life events but wrapped in a mystery of my own making. The level of detail in court transcripts and the timelines set by the trial process meant I had a detailed blueprint for the book before I even began.

Website: Please go HERE.

A  couple of questions before you go donnalee:

Scribbler: Where is your favourite spot to write?

donalee: There is no special place for me when it comes to writing. Whenever I have a chance to engage with words, that is the most special of all places. I am not a marathon writer. I am a sprinter. I can’t sit and write for hours at a time. I break up my writing by taking a yoga class, soaking up some sunshine, checking email, doing some paid work. I do try to write 1,000 fictional words a day. Some days I achieve this. We don’t need to talk about the other days.

Scribbler: Are you messy or neat?

donalee: I find myself in the midst of clutter dreaming about sparse, well-organized places.

Scribbler: Your beverage of choice?

donalee: A smoothie with avocado, fruit, yogurt, protein and chocolate.

An Excerpt from Conflagration!

Conflagration! follows the arrest, trial, and execution of Marie-Joseph Angélique, an enslaved black woman accused of burning down Montréal’s merchant quarter more than 250 years ago. Here’s where it all started.

***

The soldiers are beating a warning on drums that can be heard throughout the streets. Soon troops are running through town with buckets, ladders, shovels. The town crier can be heard in the distance. He says only one word, over and over and over.

Fire.

My boots are on, and I am heading out the door. It is the law. All able-bodied men must report to the scene of the conflagration to assist. I take a cloth to wrap around my mouth. The smoke is starting to fill the streets, and it will be intense the closer I get to the blaze.

I turn to kiss Madeleine goodbye. She has a shawl on. “Where are you going?”

“With you.”

“Absolutely not. You can’t fight a fire.”

“But I can help those in distress.” With that my wife and my unborn child are out the door and heading down rue Saint-Antoine. I look at her retreating back, proud and perturbed.

We follow the crowd, the drums, and the voice of the town crier to rue Saint-Paul. The street is in flames. The de Béréy house is consumed. It was only yesterday I stood inside that home, admired its design and its furniture, spoke with its owner.

We form a brigade; bucket after bucket after bucket of water is passed and poured on houses that line both sides of the street. To no avail.

In less than three hours it is over. The fire has won. More than forty homes are gone. Gone. Reduced to black ash, burnt stubs of wood, and tar, from the water that was tossed everywhere in a futile attempt to squelch the flames.

Also burnt to the ground – again – is the Hôtel-Dieu de Montréal. The sisters who run this convent and hospital are outside helping those who have sought refuge. A few buildings remain to offer sanctuary including a private courtyard, a small chapel, and a garden. People gather here, at what is often considered to be the heartbeat of Montréal. Mercifully, no one is seriously hurt. No one has died. But families are without homes, their servants and slaves displaced. Businesses destroyed. I see the Panis slave from the de Béréy house and the servant girl who answered the door. They are drinking tea; others are drinking sweetened brandy. They all look past me.

Neighbors and nuns are handing out blankets and offering comfort. Fortunately, the night is mild, wrapped now in a layer of damp smoke. I look from across the street at the human remnants of the fire, at the sisters who scurry to lend aid, at the neighbor woman who holds a child while its mother consoles another. I lock eyes with the neighbor woman through the heavy haze. I know those eyes.

Madeleine.

* * *

We start to make our way home slowly. Our bodies are heavy; our hearts carry the same load. I have never experienced a fire like this. We have been warned, of course, but those warnings pale in comparison to the reality. There is solace only in knowing that we did all we could as a community. I wonder, somewhere in the recesses of my mind, if we did all we legally could have done. But that is a question for another time. Now is the time to mourn what has been lost.

I hold Madeleine’s hand. We are about to leave rue Saint-Paul behind us when we hear banging of the drums. François Roy, the town crier, has an announcement. It is perhaps more devastating than the debris and ash that surrounds us.

Marie-Joseph Angélique, Black slave of Thérèse de Couagne de Francheville, set the town of Montréal on fire.

Before there is time to think, to absorb this news, a man in the hospital courtyard turns to the slave woman at the centre of the firestorm. He, too, accuses her of setting the fire, insists everyone knows this. I see people nod their heads. I anticipate their will be trouble.

There isn’t. Marie-Jospeh Angélique confronts her accuser. There is no vacant stare, no deference here. No one, she says, would be so stupid as to light their own home on fire.

There is merit in the argument. I wonder if it is an argument that would win out in a court of law. I will soon find out.

Thank you for being our guest this week, donalee. We wish you continued success with your writing.

And a GIGANTIC THANK YOU to all our visitors and readers

The Story Behind the Story by Author/Poet Armand Ruffo of Ontario, Canada.

 Let’s welcome Armand to the Scribbler.

Armand is represented by River Street Writing and the second in a series of visits from their distinguished authors.

Thank you to Hollay Ghadrey of River Street for introducing us.

I’m sure you will enjoy learning about Armand and his writing.

Read on my friends.

 

 

Armand Garnet Ruffo was born and raised in remote northern Ontario and is a band member of the Chapleau Fox Lake Cree First Nation in northern Ontario. He is the author of some dozen books of prose and poetry, ranging from writing Norval Morrisseau: Man Changing Into Thunderbird (2014) and Treaty# (2019), both finalist for the Governor General’s Literary Award, to editing An Anthology of Indigenous Literature in English: Voices from Canada for Oxford U Press.  A recipient of an Honourary Life Membership Award from the League of Canadian Poets, and the Writers’ Trust of Canada Latner Poetry Prize, he is recognized as a major contributor to both contemporary Indigenous literature and Indigenous literary scholarship in Canada. His most recent book is The Dialogues: the Song of Francis Pegahmagabow, winner of the 2024 VMI Betsy Warland “Between Genres” Award.  He currently lives in Kingston and teaches Indigenous literature and creative writing at Queen’s University.

 

 

Title: The Dialogues: the Song of Francis Pegahmagabow

 

Synopsis: 

  A poetic narrative (which makes up the libretto for the musical version) about the life of the renowned WWI Ojibwe sniper Francis Pegahmagabow with textual interventions that address the narrative and the reader, raising questions about human-kind’s drive to make war on each other and the very planet that sustains. Moving in multiple directions, The Dialogues employs historical documents, philosophical queries, questions of translation, opera scores, graphic design… each resonating their own kind of poetry, while laying bare the struggle to reach through the past and into truth.

The Story Behind the Story:

The original libretto ­– titled “Sounding Thunder: the song of Francis Pegahmagabow” – was commission by the Festival of Sound in Parry Sound to mark their 35^th anniversary.  Because the production was received with standing ovations (It will be performed in Vancouver at The Chan Centre in early February 2025.), I was asked by audience members during the Q&As if I would consider publishing it.  I thought about it, but because it was not written for the page I had to figure out a way to do it.  Then one morning I awoke knowing what to do.  My subconscious had figured it out.  And so I created a dialogue by stretching out the libretto – the poetic-narrative –on the left-hand side of book and adding new material on the right-hand side, creating what I might call inventions. In a sense, then, the two sides of the book talk to each other resulting in a dialogue which in turn creates a conversation with the reader.  In short, whatever Francis’ story touches on, be it war, politics, spirituality, the environment, residential schools, etc., is opened up on the right-hand side of the page.  By this I mean that elements of the narrative are potentially reframed, expanded, developed, and, in turn, they address and implicate the reader. I hope this is making sense, or at least arousing curiosity.

Website: Please go HERE.

A question before you go, Armand:

Scribbler: Where is your favourite spot to write? Are you messy or neat? Your beverage of choice?

Armand: In the winter I do most of my writing in my home office. It’s cramped and cluttered with books everywhere, filing cabinet overflowing, pictures askew, paddles and bags propped in a corner, but it has a nice big window, and it’s comfortable. In the summer I used to work in a cabin near Haliburton, but the property next door was flipped a few years ago by real estate investors and nearly all the trees were cut down to build a monster cottage. (I mention this in The Dialogues.) For obvious reasons I don’t go there anymore. I now go to a cabin just north of Kingston. In the fall I often head up to remote northern Ontario to visit my family, but I never get much writing done. Too busy visiting and playing!


An Excerpt from The Dialogues: the Song of Francis Pegahmagabow (Wolsak & Wynn, 2024) 

 

SCENE ONE – SETTING THE SCENE -- HEREIN THE NARRATOR MAKES HIS APPEARANCE                    

AND IN A STEADY VOICE INTRODUCES FRANCIS PEGAHMAGABOW 

PICTURE HIM, male, 25, Anishnaabe-Ojibwe

compact, sturdy, brave,

self-reliant, defiant.

 

He steps out of the shadows

and stands quietly

in a distant corner of the trench. 

 

In his left hand he holds a pinch of tobacco

that he raises up

to beseech Gitchi-Manido,

The Great Mystery.

 

He prays aloud so that the Creator

might hear him

and take pity on him and the company. 

 

He begins by honouring the four directions.                                                           

                                                          XXX

 

                                                                            keeper

                                      Wabenokkwe, master of the east.

 

                                                                     keeper

                                                     Shauwanigizik, ruler of the south.

 

                                                                              keeper

                                                     Nanabush, guardian of the west.

 

                                                                        keeper

                                                      Giyuedin, spirit of the north

 

 

Translations can never be exact. In her novel Fugitive Pieces, a book mired in war,

Ann Michaels writes that translating poetry is like kissing a woman through a veil.

You never quite get it.  She refers to the difficulty of translating Greek poetry. What about Anishinaabemowin?  Linguists consider it one of the most complex languages on the planet.

Six Thousand verb forms.  A reflection of a peoples’ reality.

The Dialogues: Winner of the VMI Betsy Warland “Between Genres” Award.

Read about it HERE.

Thank you for being our guest this week, Armand. We wish you continued success with your writing.

 
And another HUGE thank you to all our visitors and readers.

Don’t be shy, tell us what’s on your mind.

The news we've all been waiting for. A new novel by Allan Hudson of Dieppe, NB, Canada.

 Here it is folks!

Cover reveal.

The Jo Naylor adventure series in one book.

 Due to popular demand, the original stories have been compiled and given a fresh new cover.

Ta Da!

 

 

Detective Josephine (Jo) Naylor receives an email telling her where to find the next body.

 The messenger tells her “… only you can stop this madness…” Discovering a shattered figurine on the corpse, she’s overwhelmed by the possibility it might be the one she sold in

a yard sale.

If so, she knows who the killer could be. She prays she is wrong.

 

In pursuing the criminal, she uncovers her worse nightmare.

Now she’s on the run. Thailand. Paris. New Zealand.

Will she ever be able to return home?

 

Originally, the story of Detective Josephine, (Jo) Naylor started as a short story in my collection titled A Box of Memories.  My earlier inspiration was a thought that what if a detective was investigating the crimes committed by what looks like a serial killer, is someone she’s know all her life. 

The stories slowly evolved over the next year or two with me adding additional stories of JO’s hardships when she has to run.

It began with Shattered Figurine. Then Shattered Lives. Shattered Dreams was next and to tie everything together, Shattered: The Final Act.

 When searching for a new title, a good friend suggested that the new book would be completely shattered. I loved it right away and it fits. 

The following reviews will give you an idea of what to expect should you decide to order my new book

Shattered Figurine

Review by author Anita Dawes.

The opening chapter presents the detective, Jo Naylor, with a very important question. One she didn’t really want to answer but knows she must.

The next chapter, one year later, hits you square in the face with full on complicated and violent action as we discover what this story is all about.

Shattered Figurines is a surprisingly unusual detective story in that it doesn’t follow the usual plotline for this genre and the characters aren’t run of the mill either. The author has captured a very real element in both the story and the characters and I thoroughly enjoyed reading it.

I love a good detective mystery story and Shattered Figurines is one of the best I have read this year. I shall be first in the queue when the author writes another one in this series.

Shattered Lives

Review by author MJ LaBeff.

One tough heroine, one fast-paced read!

Former detective Jo Naylor is on the run and finds a whole lot of trouble in paradise when she saves a young girl from the clutches of a predator. She becomes a temporary guardian to the orphaned girl and a special bond between the two is easily formed. When another girl is taken her mother pleads to Jo for help- who can’t say no despite the limitations she faces. Jo enlists the help of a PI who like her isn’t a woman to be underestimated. Together they uncover a crime ring that runs deeper than either could anticipate and puts both of them in danger.

Jo’s take no prisoners attitude, relentless pursuit of justice, and fearless fight against the men she encounters is an action-packed adventure. The author’s snappy writing and spot-on pacing makes this mystery a perfect page-turner.

Shattered Dreams

Review by author Mark Scott Piper.

I previously enjoyed Allan Hudson’s short story collection, A Box of Memories, and I wanted to try another of his works. I chose the third release in the Jo Naylor Adventure series, Shattered Dreams. The cover art and the idea of a tough woman protagonist were intriguing. I was not disappointed.

Jo Naylor is attractive, an ex-cop, and a highly skilled combatant. She arrives in Paris to try to stay under the radar, but she’s soon involved in confronting a human trafficking ring. She’s the instigator of the plan to find and stop the bad guys. Jo meets an intriguing, unconventional group of friends—Max, Aurora, Brandy, and eventually Bertrand—all likable and relatable characters who’ll live long in the memories of readers. The criminals, on the other hand, are pure evil, cruel, and dangerous, although they stop short of becoming mere stereotypes.

Although she takes charge and jumps into the fray with enthusiasm and skill, we learn that Jo Naylor is more than just a tough combatant who’s bent on stopping evildoers—even though that might be enough in this genre. As her relationship with Bertrand develops we find that Jo has a softer side.

The ending wasn’t what I expected, probably because I haven’t yet read the first two books in the series, but Jo’s decision at the close of the narrative fits her personality perfectly. The plot is fast-moving and action-packed. I read Shattered Dreams in a day. Yes, it’s a short piece, but I was racing to the end before I remembered I meant to be doing other things. That’s the mark of a well-written, compelling novel.

I highly recommend Allan Hudson and Shattered Dreams. Find out for yourself. Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.

Shattered: The Final Act.

Review by author Anne Smith-Nochasak.

Shattered: The Final Act is the culminating book in author Allan Hudson's Shattered series.

Fans of Jo Naylor will not be disappointed. Once again, the author presents a fast-moving, action-packed plot with Jo as strong and committed to justice as ever. It is a short read, but not a light read, for, as is always the case in Allan Hudson's books, although there is an economy of words, each is necessary and well-chosen. Each character is well-developed and true to life. The sisters sound like people I have met, and Jo's alliance with the enigmatic Drake reveals the strengths of both. Especially, I appreciate receiving just enough backstory to jog the reader's memory, without retelling the first three books.

The story rushes forward to a surprising conclusion, and although this is the "final act", I am relieved to see that there simply must be another series to address this outcome.

An excellent read, highly recommended for those seeking justice with a conscience!

I believe another Allan Hudson series is next on my list; after you read, you will see why.

Physical copies available from me, signed and shipped anywhere in the world.

$29.99 CDN

(shipping charges are extra)

You can also purchase the eBook version from me as well.

$6.99

Contact me for details, payment and shipping of eBooks at

sbscribbler@gmail.com

Or on Amazon – go HERE.

Copies will soon be available at Chapters, Moncton, NB location

Thank you for you tremendous support.

Let me know if you have any questions.

I look forward to your comments.

The Story Behind the Story with Author Eve Koguce of Jurmala, Latvia, Europe.

 

Let’s welcome our first guest from the beautiful country of Latvia.

I met Eve through mutual author friends and was drawn to her stories.

She has accepted our invitation to share the good news about her novel. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.

Read on my friends.

  

I’ve been blessed to be born in the best place on the planet. My hometown, Jurmala in Latvia, is a seaside town on the coast of the Baltic Sea with an endless sandy beach. Riga, the capital of Latvia, is the city rich with history and extraordinary architecture. Riga has the largest number of splendid Art Nouveau buildings in the world.

I guess that living surrounded by the beauty of nature and history ignited a creative spark in me. But still, it lay dormant for a long time. I’ve been an avid reader since the age of five. My parents didn’t have to read to me before bedtime for too long, for I quickly snatched the book from them and asked them to leave me alone with reading. I started writing poetry when I was a teenager and also attempted to write a novel. But being a ‘good girl’, I didn’t pursue my passion for writing after school graduation. I spent fifteen years trying to fit into the office work pattern. And although I was feeling miserable and out of place every day of that climbing the ladder process, I managed to build a relatively successful career after an ambitious shift from the private to the public sector. The job I had wasn’t boring. It was actually pretty exciting. I worked with internationally funded projects and met people from all over the world every day.

After my son was born, I had a unique chance to stop and rethink not only what I’d achieved so far, but what I really wanted from life. I made a decision to leave my old life behind, and I’ve never regretted it.

Since then, I published six books. Please visit my website to discover more about my novels. Link is below.

 

Title: “The Accidental Cop”

 

Synopsis:

What if to have food on your table every day, you have to cross the line? Cheat, take bribes, and grovel before people in position of power and influence? Welcome to the “savage 90s”… A personal hell of Roberts Bergs.

To succeed you must play by the rules. Roberts learns the rules quickly. The system run by the Soviet-era ex-militia officers is a good teacher. Who you know counts for more than your abilities, qualifications, and knowledge. The system also doesn’t tolerate disobedience.

Roberts Bergs had to start making difficult choices early in life. With few options to choose from, he settles for available ones. Beggars cannot be choosers, is his motto.

His coursemates at the Police Academy dip their toes into adulthood while still living in the cocoon of their parental homes. For them, life is about parties, new experiences, and searching for their true self. For Roberts, it’s about poverty, hunger, and not being killed by a crazed drunkard with an axe during a patrol shift.

A patrolman of the Public Order Police patrol battalion isn’t Roberts’s dream job. But it is better than not having one. Trudging through the grim slums of the city, his interest in arts, history, and literature is what sustains him.

He believes in human dignity and freedom of choice. He wants to become a lawyer.

Despite the resistance from his superiors, Roberts keeps climbing up the career ladder. The contrast between those who play by the rules and those who believe in honesty and justice becomes starker. Luxury and self-indulgence for the first, and dragging out a miserable existence for the latter.

Is it worth it to remain true to his principles? Or is succumbing to the corrupted and merciless system the only way to survive?

Set in Latvia at the end of the first post-Soviet decade, named by pop culture as the “savage 90s”, “The Accidental Cop” is a blend of noir crime and police procedural with psychological suspense elements.

The ”Accidental Cop” has won several literary awards:

- Honorable Mention award in the 2023 Royal Dragonfly Book Awards contest / Fiction Novel category;
- Finalist award in the Pacific Book Awards contest 2023 / Best Thriller category;
- Finalist award in the Readers’ Favorite Book Award contest 2024 / Fiction Crime category.

 

The Story Behind the Story:

"The Accidental Cop" is set in Latvia at the end of the first post-Soviet decade. The decade branded by pop culture the ‘savage 90s.’ In Latvia, many remember that decade as the craziest time of their lives. Some managed to grab the chances to start making money through all kinds of illegal schemes. Not all of them got away with it. Still, those who did climbed even higher. By the arrival of the new millennium, they were respected businessmen, and their influence spread wide. Even into the law enforcement authorities.

In 1998, the population of Latvia was 2.41 million people. More than half of them lived in poverty. Dry figures provided in official reports hide family tragedies and countless lost and wrecked lives.

At times of transition, old rules don’t apply while new ones aren’t yet established. Because of that, the 90s were the decade when criminals flourished. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, people were free to start private businesses. But due to holes in the legislation and the overall chaos, you had to pay for “protection” to keep your business running. And the guys who collected the money had effective persuasion methods for those who refused to agree to the rules.

Once, the bell at our door rang. My aunt – Mom’s older sister – and I were in the kitchen. Mom went to see who came. We heard an unfamiliar man’s voice. My aunt went to the corridor in case Mom needed help. I trailed after her.

The man stood at the doorway – Mom didn’t let him in. Before leaving, he looked at my aunt and me and turning back to Mom said: “Bring the money or I’ll cut off your kid’s and your mother’s heads and bring them to you.”

At those times, it was incredibly difficult to keep hope that life can change. And a lot of people didn’t live long enough to see that it actually did.

“We never knew what it was like to be hungry.” Mom once dropped this phrase, years after the worst time had ended. She added that it was thanks to my aunt – Mom’s older sister – and her extraordinary, almost magical, land cultivation skills. In good years – harvest isn’t the same every year – we had a ton of apples and a ton of cucumbers. And this apart from all kinds of berries, potatoes, carrots and I don’t remember what else.  I never knew hunger. I never thought about us not having enough food. So, Mom’s words hit me like a bullet. Mom said that because of Aunt’s excellent cooking skills, we didn’t even notice that for months, our menu consisted almost solely of four ingredients: potatoes, carrots, beetroot, and zucchini.

Roberts in “The Accidental Cop” knows what hunger is. And what it does not only to your body. Still, he doesn’t give up. This is what a reader says about Roberts in their review: “He crawls until he can walk, and walks until he can run. He shows the immense and unimaginable courage it took to survive his circumstances, by taking things one hour, one day at a time, surviving one hour, one day at a time. He clings to hope, and his personal integrity and honour, like a drowning man, until he can potentially surface into a brighter future.”

“The Accidental Cop” gives readers the chance to get a glimpse of what it was like to try to survive in the savage 90s in post-Soviet Latvia. In a way, this book is a tribute to those who either hadn’t lived to tell their stories or, after the grim times ended, preferred to leave them behind.

When I started writing “The Accidental Cop”, I was certain it would be the only story set in the savage 90s that I’ll ever write. Those were dark and sad times for many, including my family. Still, now, after the book is published, I realise that the material I’d collected while doing research is enough for a few more stories. People shared their memories about the most controversial decade of Latvia’s modern history with me. And I feel the inspiration to interweave these memories with fiction to draw a picture of that wild decade on the pages of my books.

 Website: Please go HERE.

A question before you go, Eve:

Scribbler: Where is your favourite spot to write? Are you messy or neat? Your beverage of choice?

Eve: I can’t answer with a description of a picture-perfect, Instagram-style, cosy nook where I can write in silence, enjoying the free flow of inspiration and creativity. Alas, the reality, as it is so often, is a little harsher than retouched images on social media. Having said that, I won’t deny that I like my practical arrangements for writing. I usually write in the kitchen, and my laptop – with a huge monitor my husband brought me so my poor eyesight doesn’t suffer more than it is absolutely necessary – sits on the table hand-crafted by a dear friend of my beloved late Mom especially for her.

I am boringly neat, and my working table is never messy. Yet, it isn’t due to my high standards, but rather because, as I mentioned earlier, my worktable dabs as a kitchen table – or it’s probably the other way round – and it’s impractical to spend time clearing the mess several times a day when my family gathers for a meal.

During the day, I drink copious amounts of tea – Rooibos with orange and cinnamon or with honey and vanilla is my favourite choice of late. I have a cup of coffee after waking up and also after lunch.

An Excerpt from "The Accidental Cop"

******

They found a gruesome scene. Still, if it was a crime scene or an accidental tragedy display remained to be determined.

The operational group got to work, and soon, the place resembled a staged movie set ready for filming a detective story. Everyone moved about efficiently, performing the actions according to their duty list just as actors would play their roles.

The only person who distorted the general picture of professional diligence was Zalamans Kohs, the forensic medical expert of the Latvian State Police Central Authority Forensic Department. He mumbled while doing what he was supposed to do, not trying to suppress a whistle of surprise, a chuckle, or a hiccup – whichever impulse was appropriate to demonstrate a reaction of his body or mind.

“What a waste, what a waste,” he muttered under his breath, fussing over the dead bodies it was his job to examine and identify the reasons for their turning into such, “isn’t it always a waste? Of course, it is. Even if you were a poor bastard whom no one would miss, it’s still better if you had lived. Yes, yes, life is sacred…Life is a gift….”

Roberts entered the basement that the police had been called to check after he, Edgars, and the forensic team ensured the place was marked as a crime scene and the interest from neighbours ran dry. Edgars refused to go down to look at the bodies saying it wasn’t his job and he wasn’t interested.

It wasn’t the adrenalin from the macabre sight that drew Roberts in. He didn’t feel any looking at the remains of what used to be a living creature with hopes, dreams, and people who cared about them. His interest wasn’t purely professional, either. He didn’t see himself examining yet another crime scene in five years. Still, his life was now connected with crime and investigation. He had recently passed a Criminal Forensics exam successfully. It was a unique opportunity to compare theoretical knowledge with practice, even if the subject wouldn’t have been his first choice for testing if he had one.

“Koha kungs[1],” Roberts greeted the forensic medical expert respectfully. He didn’t have to feel the smell to know Zalamans’s breath betrayed alcohol consumption. The not-so-faint vodka aroma was an inalienable part of Zalamans Kohs’s image, and one which he did nothing to distance himself from. If it was a coping mechanism or an indulgence, Roberts didn’t know. It was a fact, though, that Kohs was the best forensic medical expert in the country, and not a single superior officer would accept a complaint about his drinking. So, nobody ever thought of complaining, and Kohs’s permanent inebriated state was treated more like an oddity rather than a protocol violation.

“Oh, good day, young man!” Kohs raised his head from the dirty tabletop he was examining with absorbing intensity. “What a pleasure to see an intelligent face among this…,” Kohs cast a glance around the dirty, sordid space, his face incredulous as if he had just seen it for the first time, “…chaos.”

“I hope I’m not disrupting your work.”

“The fact that you’ve thought about it at all means you aren’t.” Kohs turned away and made a wide gesture with both hands. “Tell me, what do you see? Never jump to making assumptions before you’ve looked at the crime scene properly. Never mix the order. First, watch carefully. And only then – think.”

Roberts looked around the basement.

Thank you for being our guest this week, Eve. I now have a copy of this book and am looking forward to reading it. We wish you continued success with your writing.

And thank you to all our amazing visitors and readers.

Don’t be shy. Leave us a comment below. TY.