What was your life like before your author started pulling your strings?
Good question. Before she started doing her thing, I’d never encountered a dead body; I’d never been wanted for arrest over the murder of said body; I’d never found myself under the Luther Hotel with a tribe of baby rats crawling up my blouse and pant leg; I’d never been hit over the head and thrown into the San Antonio River; I’d never been tied up and locked in a cellar. Get the picture? But then again, I’d still be stuck with my insipid life, and I never would have met Ralph Dixon.
What's the one trait you like most about yourself?
I am willing to stand up for myself and those who have been victims of killers, kidnappers, and other idiots. My grandfather was murdered when he tried to do the right thing. As a result, I hate when people do bad things to others.
What do you like least about yourself?
Just between you and me, sometimes I’m not as confident of my abilities as I put on, and I’m forced to stuff my fears and plow ahead. My author told me that condition is called Imposter Syndrome. I call it survival.
What is the strangest thing your author has had you do or had happen to you?
Besides pulling baby rats from under my blouse, I once danced with a dead man. I attended a New Year’s Eve ball, and this gorgeous guy and I were swaying on the dance floor. The place was so jammed packed that we could hardly move. That’s why he didn’t immediately fall over when the deadly knife was shoved into his back.
Do you argue with your author? If so, what do you argue about?
She comes up with these insane exploits for me to tackle. My first response is, “Really? You want me to do what?” But I’ve learned to trust her, and, in turn, she trusts me—most of the time.
What is your greatest fear?
Becoming romantically involved.
What makes you happy?
Becoming romantically involved.
If you could rewrite a part of your story, what would it be? Why?
My mother. I would have my author rewrite Mary Lou Lockhart’s bio. My mom’s high maintenance, high strung, and highly annoying. The consummate drama queen. Picture a meddlesome Joan Crawford, except Mary Lou isn’t an alcoholic. But she is one of the most controlling, wacky women I’ve ever known. I would rather my mother be like Auntie Em, but then I’d have to live in Kansas, and I can’t be that far from saltwater.
Of the other characters in your book, which one bugs you the most? Why?
It’s a toss-up between mom and Cousin Ruth. If I had to choose, I would say the cousin because I spend more time with her. Ruth exudes annoyance. She’s a wealthy, spoiled fashionista; a true blonde, bossy bubbleheaded socialite. She has a knack for showing up uninvited and at the worse times, to assist me with a case. At least that’s her excuse. Her idea of assistance is slugging down a few martinis before heading for Neiman’s to spend the afternoon shopping. She throws a conniption when she breaks a nail or snaps off the heel of her Ferragamos. But I must say that when confronting killers, she does so with the air of elegant aplomb. Put her in a room with a killer, and within five minutes, he’d beg to be turned over to the cops just to get away from her.
Of the other characters in your book, which one would you love to trade places with? Why?
Twelve-year-old, going-on-thirty Lydia LaBeau because she is smarter than me. Lydia walked into my life during the case at the Driskill Hotel in Austin. Dixon and I had just opened our new detective agency. We were hired to find out why Leland Montgomery, a future Texas gubernatorial candidate, was going to extremes NOT to get elected. Before the investigation started, Leland was murdered. The cops suspected Lydia’s father, Serge LaBeau. Serge is the owner of the Next to Nothing Live Theatre in Austin. He has no head for business, so Lydia took over at a young age. She indeed runs the show; writes, directs, and produces most of what ends up on stage. Lydia has a costume wardrobe at her disposal and often dresses in disguise when I’m on a case. She has no trouble going anywhere and doing almost anything. While investigating a murder in New Orleans, Lydia dressed up as a fortune teller. Within two days, she was a regular at Pat O'Brien's. Yes, I know she’s twelve, but that didn’t stop her.
Tell us a little something about your author. Where can readers find her website/blog?
Kathleen does many weird things, like running marathons and watching birds. Sometimes she does both at the same time, which has led to a few minor mishaps. Lately, she's been hooked on Zumba classes. There’s one thing she does that makes me envious—she hangs out with her three sisters. She could have given me three sisters, but instead she landed me with a brother I don’t like, and Ruth, the crazy cousin.
The best place to locate her is at her website. www.kathleenkaska Oh, and read her blog, “Growing Up Catholic in a Small Texas Town.” It explains a lot.
What's next for you?
Actually, I can't tell you that. All I can say is that there'll be another dead body, another hotel, and another murder I'll have to solve, of which I will be a suspect. But I can tell you that the story is in the final stages of editing and should be available to the public very, very soon. And I'll give you a hint. The hotel where the murder was committed was frequented by Tennessee Williams. Rumor has it that he wrote Streetcar Named Desire while staying there.
A Sydney Lockhart Mystery, Book 5
It’s 1953, and detective Sydney Lockhart finds herself solving another murder. The victim is a slick bookie named Johnny Pine, who had his dirty fingers in pies from Texas to Florida. Sydney tracks Pine to the Menger Hotel in San Antonio, where she discovers he’s been murdered in the room next to hers. And as usual, Sydney is a suspect. With her partner, Ralph Dixon, handling the case from Austin; or so she believes, Sydney is working alone in unfamiliar territory.
To make matters worse, Sydney’s car is stolen, and she elicits the help of an Irish cab driver named Taco and a bouncer named Rip. Soon she’s on the trail of Nora Jasper, a harlot jazz singer, and Pine’s girlfriend.
Corpses start to pile up, a string of illicit deeds surface, and Sydney’s home life goes south. But the investigation takes a bizarre turn when Sydney is whacked over the head and thrown into the river. She surfaces with a faulty memory, uncertain of whom she can trust. Her only choice is to find the killer before the killer finds her or before she gets arrested.
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