Roz Says: Don’t Beam Me Anywhere, Scotty—I Want to Stay Right Here

Passenger Log from Emerald Princess . . . Cruising Western Caribbean, Stardate April 2015

Agendas for days 1 through 7 of the cruise are pretty much the same: wake up with plan to walk around the promenade deck, have a sumptuous breakfast, find a perfect spot to relax at one of the three pools on board, have a sumptuous lunch, go ashore when we are in port, and then have a sumptuous, dressy dinner and see a show. In between all these activities there should be naps.

I love cruising. I love floating around the Caribbean with approximately two thousand complete strangers. And even with so many fellow passengers, I am impressed that there are many times when I feel like the only other people on the ship besides me are the captain and a poolside waiter from Slovenia (or Latvia, or Moldova) who brings me fruity drinks with paper umbrellas and bunches of cherries. It’s amazing to be served dinner in an Italian specialty restaurant by a Russian girl named Anastasia, overseen by a maître d’ from Pompeii. It’s delightful to chat with a real live Cuban in, of all places, the cigar bar. It’s interesting to be seated for dinner between a defense contractor who just returned from Saudi Arabia and a high school principal from Columbus, Ohio.

A word about the captain. Even though we had at least three written invitations left in our cabin to join him (and a few hundred other people) for cocktails, we never did quite make it. But I heard him make several announcements (in an attractive Italian accent), and I saw his photograph at various points around the vessel. His bio on the website said his hobby was boating. So I figured that since he apparently couldn’t get enough sailing, he must know what he is doing up there on the bridge.

Although I’ve cruised before, there is always something new to learn. This time I learned you should forget about using Wi-Fi on your cell phone unless you plan to send AT&T or Verizon, or whatever service provider you are indentured to, a check for about a thousand bucks. You are in the middle of the ocean, people; there are no towers close by. And, as a comedian at one of the shows pointed out, if you miss your peeps back home so much, you should have brought them on the cruise with you.

Going ashore is totally optional, of course. Many passengers like scuba diving, or dolphin watching, or getting their hair cornrowed. We prefer to save our energy for that walk around the promenade deck and mainly go ashore only to shop. We’ve even been able to reduce that activity to a bare minimum, since all the islands we visited sell similar stuff. About being docked: there is something magnificent about seeing four or five ships anchored in the azure water like giant behemoths spewing forth hundreds of tourists into tender boats, or directly onto the pier of those islands that are accommodating to their guests.

The evening entertainment on our ship was fabulous, crammed with singers and dancers who would be at home on Broadway. One of our leading lady soloists could give Alicia Keys a run for her money any day. On one past cruise, I was awed by an illusionist, from India, who stopped by our table at dinner and briefly introduced himself. A few seconds later he moved to another table, from where he waved my watch in the air at me. How’d he do that? What was even more amazing was that the lady at the next table who had witnessed me getting ripped off still managed to be relieved of her own watch.

Inevitably, day 7 rolls around. It’s far too quick and we haven’t accomplished all we planned, particularly that walk around the promenade deck. But it’s back to dry land for me, my focus now on the desert as Patty and I begin our wrap-up of Palm Desert Killing, our latest Val and Kit mystery. Reluctantly, I say good-bye to the beautiful Emerald Princess and all who sailed on her. I take with me fond memories of the nice people we met, all the laughs we had, and eating enough food to sink a cruise ship.

Roz and Mike on the Emerald Princess, giving the sign of Quatro Strong for a dear young man and close friend.

How NOT to Get Away with Murder

As we finish up the fifth novel in The Val & Kit Mystery Series—PALM DESERT KILLING—we find ourselves toying with ideas for No. 6. And, believe us, ideas aren’t hard to come by. Then again, truth generally being stranger than fiction, most of what we garner from TV and newspapers just isn’t believable (even though it really happened).

We are both avid watchers of shows such as Dateline, 20/20, 48 Hours, and Forensic Files, where they take an in-depth look at heinous killings. But while we love such shows, we have not learned anything useful on how to get away with such crimes. We’ve gleaned much, however, on how NOT to get away with murder.

Here, then, are some tips that apparently aren’t as obvious as they should be:

First, avoid one of the most common mistakes. If you plan to bury your poor victim, don’t get caught on camera at Home Depot or Loew’s buying a shovel and plastic wrap.  However, if you insist on doing so, never look directly into the store surveillance camera and wave. Also, don’t wear a baseball cap emblazoned with your alma mater or favorite team; always pay in cash; and don’t keep the receipt in your wallet or tucked under the visor of your car. If you have to pay by check, don’t write a note on it or in your register that the purchases are “Stuff to get rid of Aunt Alice.”

Next, if you are going to poison someone, don’t spend hours on the Internet researching sites that tell you how to make, buy, or mix a deadly substance. Avoid any websites that offer the dosage required and the effects of offensive materials. And for heaven’s sake, don’t try it out on the cat first.

Don’t take out a hefty insurance policy on the victim the day before you do the deed.

If you are a third-party murderer, meaning someone else put you up to it (it wasn’t my idea, honest, Your Honor!), don’t use your cell phone to communicate to said first party. Don’t e-mail them or, worse, write a chatty letter.

Don’t underestimate the police. They are smart. And no matter how chummy you might feel with the officer who has hauled you in for a friendly little chat, don’t start offering your own theories on who might have done it.

If you insist on using a gun, get rid of the weapon; and this does not mean tossing it into a shallow body of water a mile from your house.

Don’t rent a storage unit to hide all your murderous paraphernalia. Eventually, the police will find it; they always do.

Have a really good alibi. But not too good. Don’t, for example, go to the mall, stand in view of the surveillance camera, and participate in a flash-mob dance, or belt out an Italian opera while waiting for your pancakes at IHOP.

Lastly, avoid joining a gang, especially one with a name like Git-R-Done or Fists of Fire. These might serve you well once you’re slammed up in the pokey, but they’re not gonna do you any good on the outside.

And the best advice we can offer? Please don’t murder anyone. But if you just can’t help yourself, then stay out of Val and Kit’s way. Especially in Palm Desert, California, the setting for our next book. It just isn’t safe.

Go Ahead! Judge Our Books by Their Covers!

Many generous people have asked how the covers of our books originate. And we’re happy to elaborate. When we are working on a new book and reach the stage that signals it’s time to turn our attention to a cover . . . it’s a yippee!!! kind of day.

It’s like a bride, working with a wedding planner, putting the details of the event together and finally coming to the part where she gets to pick THE dress.

In our case, picking a cover is a collaborative effort. There are many family members and friends consulted. But once we’ve culled our short list of photos from the hundreds we have taken and then agreed on our final choice, it’s off to Laura Eshelman Neuman for the final fitting. Laura is an amazing woman (and Patty’s daughter-in-law) who takes our photos and turns them into incredible covers.

When we started with our first Val & Kit Mystery, The Disappearance of Mavis Woodstock, our original idea was a hand-drawn sketch showing our protagonists standing next to a real-estate sign. But it was bad. At least Roz, the artist, thought so. Then someone suggested using a photo of a front door. As it happened, Patty’s daughter Melissa had just posted a photo of her own front door on her blog, Mel’s Green Garden. That photo was taken by Melissa’s dear friend and then-neighbor Amy Spreitzer Windsor of the Bitchin’ Wives Club blog. Laura worked her magic with the design of all the elements, and we were thrilled with the results. Networking at its best!

This set the scene for our next book, The Murder of Susan Reed. This was serious stuff: a real gun belonging to a real police officer and a single bullet depicting a murderous act. Thank you, Sheila (Laura’s friend—and ours too!)!

The cover for Death in Door County was pure joy. We, along with one of our proofreaders, Sarah Paschall, spent a fun four days driving around the beautiful Door County and stopping to take pictures, among other things (eating, drinking, sightseeing, and just generally having fun). The result was an ominous winding road, perfect for our purposes.

Lethal Property was simpler. The cover was shot by Mike Gerbino using Roz’s kitchen chair as the backdrop and her Jackie Ohh sunglasses strategically placed. Val’s business card was whipped up on Roz’s computer. Once again, the final result was sent to Laura, who managed to turn it into Patty’s favorite cover.

Speaking of Laura, and covers, our NON–Val & Kit book, Dressing Myself, features our favorite cover girl posing as our protagonist Jessie.

Which is YOUR favorite?

Our latest Val and Kit mystery, which is nearing its final stages, will be titled Palm Desert Killing. Lucky Val and Kit—not to mention Patty and her husband, Johnny—are currently in California. Patty and Johnny are taking pictures of palm trees, mountains, and the desert on their daily hikes. Poor them, forced to enjoy glorious California and capture it on film, er, iPhones.

Mission Accomplished!

Best Month of the Year (According to Roz)

I just checked my calendar and realized that February has only another full week left, so I’m reminded that our February blog has not yet hit the computer screen. Other bloggers may experience the same phenomenon: writing a blog each month is sometimes like that Seinfeld episode where they come up with a show about nothing. (Isn’t there a Seinfeld episode that can apply to anything in life?) In this case, what subject do we tackle?

In short, February’s blog is about February. As months go, I really like February. By far my favorite. It falls so nicely between that bloated January, where everyone is still on their holiday high, and March, with all its springtime nonsense and tax preparation.

February is such a compact month, short and sweet, and packed with all sorts of goodies, starting with Groundhog Day (which means nothing to those of us living in the South; but I did love the movie). Then we have Valentine’s Day, the sweetest day of the year, followed closely by Presidents’ Day, when there is always a good sale or two. Ash Wednesday is a unique time for those of us who imbibe, the Super Bowl is in there somewhere, and we round the month out with the Academy Awards. What other month offers so much?

Unfortunately, in Houston this year we have been a little short-changed in the wintry-weather department. Some Houstonians are happy with this state of affairs, but I like a few really cold days, and even a sprinkling of snow occasionally. But so far my Uggs have not seen the light of day. My sweet little hat/scarf/mittens combo is still waiting for a day cold enough to warrant dragging them out. And my ceiling fan remains on the warm-weather cycle. So far! Oh, I would like to extend my sympathies to the folks living on the East Coast. Patty, by the way, is wintering in Palm Desert, California, so she gets no sympathy from anyone (although it is a working vacay, as she researches for our Val & Kit Mystery No. 5, set in Palm Desert and as yet untitled; we look forward to an unveiling in the not-too-distant future).

Patty, researching with granddaughters Emma and Ella in SoCal

To all our readers, we hope you enjoy the remaining days of February. For you Northerners, the good news is, you’ve got only another week.

Roz Proclaims: Out with the Old, and Nothing New Comes In

Rather than make any new resolutions for 2015, I’m going to try to get rid of some of the old obsessions that carried me through 2014. This might seem like the same thing in reverse, but I’m pretty sure that getting rid of something is easier than starting something new.

So, this brings me to my first obsession: collecting stuff I no longer use or need and putting it in a garbage sack to take to Goodwill. Twelve months ago I had one sack. Now I have seven. The obsession part is the accumulation, feeling so good about all the excellent things I will be donating. The getting rid part involves actually hauling the sacks into my car and depositing them with Goodwill.

Next obsession: eyeing something in a store, usually an item of clothing, and thinking I simply must have it. Unfortunately, when I get home, I discover I’ve bought the same thing, or something similar enough to have no distinction, at least three times already. I place the perfect black pumps on my shoe rack beside their identical sisters, all of whom are screaming take me to Goodwill, already!

On their way to Roz's car--finally!

Then there is my cell phone. Actually, it’s not my phone I obsess about, but the cell phone of my boyfriend, who I insist should be just as enthralled with his as I am with mine. Why isn’t he oohing over the laser beam app, or aahing over voice search?  Why does he see no need to send anyone a picture or even a text?  So I am going to stop beating him over the head and let him do just what he wants: make a phone call.

Television shows are hardly worth mentioning and almost seem healthy, since they do tend to run their course quickly. I am currently obsessed with Breaking Bad. Before my obsession began, I was mystified why this show won so many awards, even though I’d never seen a single episode. Thanks to Netflix, I am now halfway through the entire series, and I get it. It’s good. But as with The Sopranos and Homeland, to name just two, once I am done, I will resume normal life.

Speaking of television shows, I did spend an inordinate amount of time in 2014 trying to figure out how to receive the optimum Wi-Fi signal at home. It should have been easy, since my house is small, and the cable attaching the modem to the wall is even smaller. I may have to break my own rule in 2015 and call my service provider, but since we spent so much time chatting in 2014, we are old friends by now.

Removing clutter is annoying, even to me, the declutterer. While I must remove all unnecessary objects from any counter or table, I often find I need a removed item an hour or so later, and then the problem becomes remembering where I put it. This obsession even extends to my e-mail in-box. All mail has been moved to the trash file as soon as I read it. Now I vow to let opened and read email languish in the in-box, enjoy a little vacation time, before I inevitably send it to the trash and then, of course, empty the trash!

Most important, for 2015, Patty and I wish all our wonderful readers a happy, joyous, and obsession-free year. And please feel free to delete this after reading.

Roz Explains Why Santa Claus Was a Little Late

On Christmas Eve I was given the task of reading ’Twas the Night Before Christmas to my four-year-old grandniece Emily. The plan was that she would fall asleep and I would then join the adults for the ongoing festivities. So, snuggled beside her in the bed, I read the beloved story while Emily studied the pictures in the book to be sure I was on track. As I finally reached the last line, the very wide-awake Emily took the book from me and advised that she would now “read” it to me.

In her version things changed slightly. Turns out that as soon as Santa had his sleigh packed and ready for his round-the-world trip, several of the Disney Princesses showed up with the intention of baking him a cake. For anyone not familiar with Disney Princesses, it’s a safe bet that Cinderella did most of the cooking, since I think she’s the only one who knows her way around a kitchen.

As I got sleepier, and Emily became more energized, she moved on to the story of the Baby Jesus, complete with several songs, one of which was apparently sung by a donkey. I’m also pretty sure there were a couple of Disney Princesses in the Nativity.

But my luck held out when we heard a tapping on the bedroom door (No, Emily, it’s not Santa; it’s your daddy). My nephew took over, and as I gratefully left the room, I heard him explaining how Santa was probably in New Zealand already and would soon be on his way west to England. If the rudiments of time zones couldn’t put that child to sleep, nothing could.

Eventually, much, much later, things turned out as they should. Emily did fall asleep, and good old St. Nick turned up when he was supposed to. At least judging by the stocking at the end of her bed.

Here’s hoping everyone had a joyous Christmas, no matter what time zone they live in, and Santa is back in the North Pole taking a well-deserved break.

Roz's Grandniece Emily (Speaking of Princesses)

Making a List . . .

With Thanksgiving over, Val decides it’s time to start some serious Christmas shopping. So she enlists Kit’s help on gift ideas for everyone on her list.

LET’S START WITH TOM

Val:      It has to be something amazing, but Tom is tricky; he is literally the man who has everything.

Kit:     And yet he appears to have nothing. What does he like? 

Val:     He likes German cars.

Kit:     Who doesn’t? So are you thinking a new Mercedes?

Val:     You’re not helping, and of course not a Mercedes. Think smaller. German smaller. How about a beer stein?

Kit:     Somehow I don’t see Tom Haskins guzzling beer. Why don’t you get him tickets to the auto show?

(Hmm, not the worst idea in the world.)

ON TO PERRY

Kit:     That guy is simple.

Val:     Oh good, you have an idea?

Kit:     No. I was merely pointing out that he’s simple.

Val:     What about a silk bow tie? Or a really stylish vest?

Kit:     Doesn’t he own ten thousand already? How about a Bette Midler CD? You can’t go wrong with Bette.

Val:     You might be right. I notice Perry has recently changed his ringtone to “Wind Beneath My Wings.”

(Yippee! Two presents down, and only a minimum of wrapping paper required.)

NEXT, BILLIE

Val:     She loves Aerosmith. Let me see if they have a concert in Chicago anytime soon.

Kit:     They sing?

Val:     Yes, they sing. Rock. Maybe we should go too.

Kit:     I like Andrea Bocelli, ya know.

Val:     Not sure he’s her cup of tea.

Kit:     Speaking of tea, wanna grab some Starbucks?

Val:     Not till we finish this flippin’ list.

MY MOM

Val:     This should be a no-brainer—for you. You always get her better gifts than I do. Any thoughts spring to mind?

Kit:     No problem; book a cruise for her and William. Somewhere exotic; Bali, or Fiji.

Val:     Er . . . that would be a super-duper idea, Kitty Kat. But I wasn’t planning to take out a bank loan.

Kit:     What do you usually get her? A lump of coal?

(In terms of expense, she wasn’t far off.)

Val:     I think I’ll get her a foot massager.

(I could just hear my mom:  Valerie, is this one of those dangerous foot gadgets from Europe? I can’t say I’ve ever met a European whose feet I admired. Okay, I’d rethink the foot massager. Or get one made in the USA, if that was possible.)

HOW ABOUT WILLIAM STUCKEY (my mom’s husband)?

Val:     He should be a breeze. Books. Maybe a nice coffee-table book on World War II.

Kit:     He reads those things?

Val:     All the time.

Kit:     He does know the ending, right?

Val:     Yeeeeees, he knows the ending, dum-dum. He’s interested in how they got to the ending.

Kit:     Everyone knows—oh, forget it!

OKAY, MUCH EASIER, EMILY AND LUKE

Val:     Done! Bicycles. One each.

Kit:     I thought you said their apartment in LA was tiny; where are they gonna put them?

Val:     Not stationary bicyles; real ones. I’ve ordered them from Sports Authority. They can hang them on the wall.

Kit:     Why don’t you get them memberships to a nice air-conditioned gym? That sounds like much more fun than cycling around California. In the outdoors. In the open air.

Val:     It’s what they want. And some people actually like being outdoors.

Kit:     In that heat? On a bicycle? It’s insane!

KIT’S PEEPS (I was going to be jealous; I just knew it.)

Val:     By the way, what did you buy your people?

Kit:     Oh, mine were easy peasy. I booked Larry into a golf clinic in Arizona for three weeks.  Of course it’s more a present for me, just to get him out of my hair for that length of time. And I bought Sam a first-class ticket to Chicago for two weeks,

Val:     So again, more a gift for you than for your son.

Kit:     Moving on. For my mother and her husband, I am sending a case of good champagne. She’s half in the bag most of the time, anyway, and after she opens the first bottle, she won’t be going anywhere, least of all to visit me. Perfect gift!

Val:     And not in the least self-serving.

Kit:     Not in any way.

Val:     So you are done.

Kit:     Not quite. I still have to get something for you, but I know what it is.

Val:     Oh, please, don’t get all extravagant on me. I can’t afford to reciprocate.

Kit:     Reciprocation has nothing to do with it. When have we ever compared expenditures on gifts to each other?

(Last Christmas I gave her a Starbucks coffee cup and a framed picture of the two of us taken outside our favorite coffee shop. She gave me a gray cashmere pashmina wrapped around a pearl choker with a diamond clasp.)

Val:     Never.

(Although since I had divorced and money was tight, I’d generally felt embarrassed at my measly gifts to her, compared to the lavish presents she gave me—most of which I never used because . . . well, because of the lavishness.)

Kit:     So prepare yourself, Valley Girl. This year I'm going all out.

Val:     Oh no . . . please don’t . . . I don’t need anything. What about a pair of gloves? I’d like that.

Kit:     Forget gloves!  No, no—although this might require wearing gloves and possibly some kind of head covering. And you should be sure your shots are up to date.

Val:     Kiiiiiiiiiiit?

Kit:     Kidding. I’m kidding.

DEAR READERS

Kit and Val:  Since your gift to us has been thankfully and humbly received all year, our gift to you and your family is a wish for peace, prosperity, and the happiest holiday season ever. Please open early and enjoy!

Roz's great-niece Emily on
Christmas morning

Patty's grandson Jackson

Patty's granddaughters Anna Lydia and Ella

The Val & Kit Mystery Series Now Available in Paperback