I like to think readers learn something new from every post on Killer Crafts & Crafty Killers. Most of us in the US have heard of the Bermuda Triangle. Today we have a visitor from across the pond who will explain the Rhubarb Triangle. If you’ve never heard of it, you’re not alone!
Sue Cook lives in a damp and windy corner of northwest England with her husband and five ducks. She writes both short and long stories and novels which mostly include contemporary or historical romance sprinkled with crime, intrigue, or suspense. Learn more about her and her various publications at her website.
Hello from not so sunny northwest England. I hope the weather is kinder to you than it is to us Brits right now. Outside it’s dreich, as the Scots would say, i.e., dull and damp as you might expect in a cold, rainy island off the coast of Europe!
Which introduces what I’d like to talk about today – things typically British. My cozy mystery Murder at the Bakery started as a writing exercise to describe a workplace. The job that made the strongest impression was my first ever summer holiday post. I packed pies at a pie factory, with an enormous conveyor belt bringing the finished product down from what seemed like the sky. It was, of course, merely bringing them from the top of vast steel ovens.
Oh, those ovens. The gleaming steel walls went from one side of the factory to the other and literally right up to the towering roof. Pies entered at the bottom, cooked as they rotated up, then cooled in the upper part. Occasionally something would go wrong, the conveyor belt would speed up, and hot pies would rain down on us. Then there was panic, I can tell you. Even packing them away four to each hand had no impact on the deluge.
Then there were the mincing tanks, great steel vats bigger than a hot tub, with great steel blades that we tipped the meat into. They were definitely big enough to handle a dead body…
Ok, so now you’re confused. The thing is, these are British pies – savoury, main-course items – not sweet desserts like cherry or pumpkin pie. Short or puff (never sweet) pastry filled with meat and veg or something vegetarian, such as cheese and onion (my personal favourite).
That’s culture problem number one. Then there’s where I set my book. Hands up those who’ve heard of The Rhubarb Triangle? No, I’m not kidding. A small area of West Yorkshire is renowned for growing early season rhubarb that’s forced in darkened sheds. The Rhubarb Triangle once produced over 90% of all the world’s ‘winter’ rhubarb. The pie thefts and murders in Murder at the Bakery take place in a fictional town near there.
Although the pie factory I worked at was in South Wales, where I grew up, the book is set where I now live, on the fringes of West Yorkshire. It’s a place I know well, and frankly, it’s beautiful.
If you’ve watched Richard Gere’s film Yanks, you’ll have seen our local pub and the village square, because the movie was filmed locally. All those terraced cottages with soot-blackened stone and long rows of windows? That’s typical West Yorkshire. Those rolling green hills and bleak moors? Yes, that’s from round ‘ere, too. Why would I set my book anywhere else?
So, with all that going on, and so much to explain, I decided to leave Murder at the Bakery exactly as it was – a thoroughly British murder mystery with English pies.
Murder at the Bakery
A Cozy Murder Mystery in Yorkshire
Someone is stealing pies from Wright Good Pies, and if the bakery fails, the town of Pickford, West Yorkshire, is in trouble. Georgia Griffiths, Pickford’s newest PI (well, part-time office assistant, actually) is on the case and soon finds herself embroiled in a series of murders, too. Mike, the world’s grumpiest boss, is disinterested. When the bad guys home in on Georgia and plan on making her the next victim, will he finally come good?
