PEEK INTO THE LIFE OF GUEST SLEUTH SYDNEY LOCKHART

The real-life Menger Hotel, San Antonio, Texas

Kathleen Kaska writes the awarding-winning Sydney Lockhart Mystery Series and the Classic Triviography Mystery Series. The Lockhart mysteries are set in the early 1950s at historic hotels that are still in operation today. Her newly released, Run Dog Run, is the first in the Kate Caraway Mystery Series. Today she gives us a glimpse into Sydney’s world. Learn more about Kathleen and her books at her website. 

I ducked into an alley behind the Alamo and waited in the darkness of a crumbling doorway. The guy who’d been following me passed close enough for me to reach out and grab him, which I was about to do when I realized he was a woman in a trench coat. I quietly slipped my gun from my shoulder holster, but the squeak of metal against leather caused her to jerk around. She looked me straight in the eye.

“Miss Lockhart?”

“Who are you?”

“I need to talk to you.”

That’s the last thing I needed. I was on my way back to the Menger Hotel, having given the cops enough time—I hoped—to remove Johnny Pine’s dead body from the hotel room next to mine. Johnny was a no-good bookie who was shot dead last night. I’d been following him from Austin, trying to recover money he’d stolen from our client. I’d also been tailing Nora Jasper, his girlfriend, and the most likely killer, when I realized someone was tailing me.

“You didn’t answer my question, who are you and what do you want?”

“My name is Lola Middletown and I’ve been following your career.”

“Which one?” In a little more than a year, I’d gone from schoolteacher, to reporter (which I still am), to detective.

“I’m a reporter for the San Antonio Express, or at least I hope to be. Right now I’m taking classified ads over the phone.”

I could sympathize. My first job at the newspaper was proofing obits and bringing coffee to my cranky editor.

Lola removed her fedora and a mop of blond curls fell down to her shoulders. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen. “Can I buy you a beer?” she asked.

“You don’t look old enough to drink. Besides, I can’t disclose case details to the public. I’m sure you understand.”

“This interview is off the record. I just want to know how you do it. How you got started in the business?”

I looked down the block toward the Menger and saw the cop cars still crowding the hotel’s drive. What the heck, I thought. “You got thirty minutes. Frank’s place is down the street. Let’s go.”

We settled into a dark booth in the corner. I ordered two Lone Stars. The waiter didn’t ask for Lola’s ID. “Okay, go. The clock’s ticking.”

“How did you get started in the detective business?”

“The story will take all day. Short version—another hotel, another dead body, a gorgeous detective who suspected me as the killer. I changed his mind and we joined forces.”

“The Arlington Hotel in Hot Springs, Arkansas,” she said without looking up from her note pad.

“That’s the one.”

“Why hotels? You always seemed to investigate murders that take place in hotels. After the Arlington, there was the Luther Hotel in Palacios, Texas, then the Hotel Galvez in Galveston, and the Driskill in Austin.”

“Good question. I’ve tried to figure that out myself. The only thing I can come up with is, what better place for a murder?”

“Do you ever get the feeling trouble follows you?’

“That’s my mother’s favorite question to me. I don’t believe it follows me, but I do believe I attract it.”

Lola shot a glance over my shoulder and drew in a quick breath. “Miss Lockhart, I hate to tell you this, but there’s a strange guy standing by the door. It looks like he’s trying to get your attention.”

“What does he look like?”

“Short, about sixty, sandy-colored hair.”

“Taco Baldwin.”

“He’s coming this way.”

Taco slid into the booth next to me. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important, Miss Lockhart.”

“Taco’s my taxi driver.”

“You have you own taxi driver?” Lola asked, scribbling more notes.

“Not usually, but my car was stolen.”

“Miss Lockhart, we need to get out of here fast,” Taco said.

“What’s up now?”

“I just got word there’s a warrant out for your arrest for the murder of Johnny Pine.”

“Not again. If I were you, Lola, I’d stick to taking classified ads.”

“Where to, Taco?”

“How about New Orleans?”

I threw four bits on the table and left.

Murder at the Menger in my current work in progress. Look for it in 2018. In the meantime, here’s a brief account of my latest Sydney Lockhart mystery.

Murder at the Driskill

Another hotel; another murder; another Sydney Lockhart mystery.

You’d think that newspaper reporter Sydney Lockhart, comfortable at home in Austin, Texas, could stay away from hotels and murders therein. But when she and her detective boyfriend, Ralph Dixon, hang out a shingle for their new detective agency, they immediately land a high-profile case, which sends them to the swanky Driskill Hotel. Businessman Stringer Maynard has invited them to a party to meet his partner/brother-in-law, Leland Tatum, who’s about to announce his candidacy for governor. Maynard needs their help because Tatum is hanging out with the wrong crowd and jeopardizing his chances for winning the election. Before Sydney can finish her first martini, a gunshot sounds and Leland Tatum is found murdered in a suite down the hall.

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#TRAVEL THE CALIFORNIA ZEPHYR WITH GUEST AUTHOR JANET DAWSON

Janet  Dawson has written two novels featuring Zephyrette Jill McLeod – Death Rides the Zephyr and the latest, Death Deals a Hand. She is also the author of twelve novels with Oakland PI Jeri Howard, most recently Cold Trail, a standalone suspense novel, What You Wish For, and numerous short stories. Learn more about Janet and her books at her website. 

Meet the Zephyrette

I’ve written two books in my historical mystery series featuring Jill McLeod, who is a Zephyrette.

I can see the puzzled look on your face. What’s a Zephyrette?

A Zephyrette is a train hostess, something like an airline stewardess, or flight attendant, as we call them now.

Many of the luxurious streamliner trains of the post-World War II era had such attendants, but only aboard the train called the California Zephyr were these young women called Zephyrettes.

The California Zephyr was jointly operated by three railroads, from 1949 to 1970. The trains ran daily between San Francisco and Chicago, through spectacular scenery in the Sierra Nevada and the Rocky Mountains. The journey took two and a half days, and the Zephyrette was onboard for the whole trip.

My books are set in December 1952 and April 1953. Dwight Eisenhower had just been elected president. The Korean War was still raging. It had been less than eight years since the end of World War II. Rock ’n roll was in its early days. It’s the heyday of train travel, before everyone had one or two cars and the interstate highway system was built. Air travel wasn’t as common.

Jill, the protagonist of Death Rides the Zephyr and Death Deals a Hand, is the only female member of the crew. Her job is to keep an eye on things during the journey, make announcements, and cater to the passengers’ needs, keeping them comfortable and happy. She walks through the train every few hours and observes what’s going on aboard the train, alert to any potential problems, ready to provide solutions.

Who would be better placed to do some amateur sleuthing? In the course of two books, Jill has done her share, wielding those problem-solving skills.

Want to send a telegram from the Western Union office at the next station? The Zephyrette would take care of that. Reservations in the dining car? Check. Apply first aid to that scrape on your kid’s knee after he takes a tumble off his seat? Check.

Want to find out who killed the passenger, and why? Jill does that, too.

How did someone like Jill become a Zephyrette? She was required to have a college degree or nurse’s training, have a good character and be unmarried. Jill is all of these. She’s a graduate of the University of California. She was planning to get married but those plans were derailed. She didn’t want to teach or work in her father’s office. Riding the rails on the California Zephyr looked like a good plan for Jill, until she decides what to do with the rest of her life.

Writing the books was great fun and involved roaming around on historic trains as well as taking the Amtrak version of the California Zephyr, which has a different route through California but the same route between Winnemucca, Nevada on to Chicago.

I can read about Ruby Canyon in Western Colorado, but there’s no substitute for seeing it from the train, with the setting sun turning the cliffs red. It’s wonderful to wind through Gore Canyon deep in the Colorado Rockies, with the nearly frozen Colorado River just below the tracks.

There’s also no substitute for primary sources, in this case two former Zephyrettes living in my vicinity. One of these ladies worked on the trains in the late sixties, the other in the early 1950s, the time period I was writing about. One evening I met these two ladies and sat with them as they talked over old times and memories of their travels aboard the California Zephyr. The material I got was invaluable, and I hope it rings true in the books.

So meet Jill McLeod, the Zephyrette. All aboard for adventure!

Death Deals a Hand

Zephyrette Jill McLeod is back on the rails, aboard the fabled train called the California Zephyr. Heading west from Chicago to the San Francisco Bay Area, Jill looks forward to reuniting with family members and the new man in her life. She’s learned to expect and deal with just about anything on the train, from troublesome passengers to long-lost relatives to high-stakes poker games. But the stakes just got even higher: Death has a seat at the table.

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