Today on Mystery Mondays, we host a married couple who write books togethers. How cool is that? Check below for an excerpt of Slick Deal, their latest novel.
But first, her is Janet Elizabeth Lynn on
Partnering in writing
It can work
Janet Elizabeth Lynn
Early in my writing career I remember someone said gave me the following equation for completing a novel: Butt +Chair = Book. It’s a simple formula, but it rings true every time.
My husband, Will Zeilinger and I co-write the Skylark Drake Murder Mystery series, a hardboiled series that takes the reader to 1950s Los Angeles and other areas of the west. Our new book, SLICK DEAL, begins at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel, News Year’s Eve 1956. The first murder and clues lead to Avalon, on Catalina Island. This is the fourth of the series and people still wonder how we make it work.
Here are some things we have learned over the last four books:
- Character/Voice styles– Combining different styles when writing makes for more interesting character dialogue and personalities. So valuing the styleeach writing partner brings to the table is important
- DeadlinesSet deadlines and stick to them. Deadlines include: chapters, plot, character development, and public relations. Anything pertaining to the health and welfare of the manuscript should have a deadline.
- OrganizationEach meeting, regardless of what the meeting is for, needs to have a purpose. Agendas are great to keep the discussions on track. Be sure to keep copies of all meeting agendas and decisions for future reference. And not for finger pointing!
- SupportNothing beats having someone not only for “feel good” needs but someone to also pick up the slack when things come to a screeching halt, i.e. Writer’s block. We hit this at the same time once and it was scary. The only way I got through it was Will’s positive attitude that we could do it.
- And the most important thingWe agreed and practiced the above equation. Some people may call this dedication, we call it sweating.
Janet Elizabeth Lynn and Will Zeilinger
Published authors Will Zeilinger and Janet Lynn write individually until they got together and created the Skylar Drake Mystery Series. These hard-boiled tales are based in old Hollywood of 1955. Janet has published seven mystery novels and Will has three plus a couple of short stories. Their world travels have sparked several ideas for murder and crime stories. This creative couple is married and live in Southern California.
The next Skylar Drake Mystery, fourth in the series, SLICK DEAL will be available April 16, 2018 and yes…we are still married!
On the eve of the New Year, 1956, oil tycoon, Oliver Wright dies suspiciously at a swanky Hollywood New Years Eve party. Some think it was suicide.
His death is soon followed by threats against the rest of his family.
Private Investigator Skylar Drake and his partner Casey Dolan are hired by an L.A. gangster to protect the family and solve Oliver’s mysterious death.
Clues lead them to Avalon, on Santa Catalina Island, a Hollywood movie star playground.
A high profile scandal, mysterious women, treason and more deaths complicate matters, putting Drake and his partner in danger.
Twenty-three miles may not seem far away but false identity and corruption on this island could squash their efforts to answer the question—How in the world can a dead man commit suicide?
SLICK DEAL will be available April 16, 2018…and yes we are still married!
Website: Janet Elizabeth Lynn http://www.janetlynnauthor.com
Website: Will Zeilinger www.willzeilingerauthor.com
By Janet Elizabeth Lynn and Will Zeilinger
Almost midnight. I was working security for the New Year’s Eve bash at the posh Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel with my partner Casey Dolan. The rented tuxedos we were wearing made us look like we belonged with the rich crowd down on the ballroom floor, but we were working. This was one of the most exclusive parties in the city. I’d been here before and I’ve never known any other hotel with the kind of history this place had. Our job tonight was to keep an eye out for trouble…and I suppose this was a much better way to greet the new year than sitting at home in front of the television with a bottle of whiskey. As a matter of principle, I didn’t take security work. But Dolan thought D&D Investigations would benefit from this job by keeping the lights on and paying our secretary. He was right.
I scanned the crowd and checked my watch—a minute before midnight. The noise level in the room escalated with anticipation. I spotted Dolan at his post under an archway on the other side of the room and smiled. He nodded. From my spot on the catwalk above the ballroom floor I watched as they counted down the last seconds—five, four, three, two… Just as the clock on stage struck midnight, the room exploded with shouts, horns, balloons, and a snowstorm of confetti. The band played “Auld Lang Syne” while a banner unfurled above the bandstand that proclaimed: HAPPY NEW YEAR 1956.
It seemed as though everyone in the world was dancing, hugging, and kissing. My mind disappeared into the past. I remembered my late wife,Claire, and how we celebrated every New Year together. Even when she was big with our daughter, Ellie, Claire was stunning. I pulled out my wallet and gazed at her photo. I miss you honey, so very much.
A man’s voice boomed over the P.A., “Is there a doctor in the house?” My dream with Claire evaporated. I looked down at the stage where a man had grabbed the microphone from the band leader’s hands and shouted, “We need help in the main lobby.”
I motioned for Dolan to stay put while I ducked behind the heavy drapes and crossed the hall to the lobby mezzanine. Fourteen steps would take me down to the lobby floor. I think I only used five. My hand automatically went to my holster, just in case. Pushing through the crowd, I found a portly man on his back in a pool of blood on the terracotta-tiled floor. A tuxedo-clad man loosened the tie of the victim but I knew he was gone. I’d seen that vacant look in his eyes a hundred times back when I worked LAPD homicide.
Somewhere in the crowd I heard “Make way please, we’re nurses.” A couple of women in evening gowns appeared. I held the curious crowd back while the women knelt on the bloody floor and checked for a pulse. One shook her head and placed a lacy handkerchief over the dead man’s face.
Screaming sirens outside announced the arrival of the police. Partygoers scrambled. More than a few were probably here with someone other than the one to whom they were legally and lawfully wed. I identified myself as hotel security to the first officers to come through the door.
“You were first on the scene?” one asked.
I nodded. “Me and about a hundred other people.”
“You see this happen?” I shook my head. Another officer shouted to the crowd, “Anybody here see this happen?”
More police swarmed the lobby with news reporters on their heels. I wasn’t surprised. This party attracted reporters like flies on a dead cat. All around camera flashbulbs popped, making the room as bright as day.
Someone grabbed my arm. I looked into the eyes of a dark-haired woman wearing a full-length fur coat. With all the commotion, I thought she was a tipsy guest who wanted to kiss me. Instead, she pulled in close and whispered in my ear, “Please help me get out of this place. I can’t be seen here.” She turned her back to the cameras. With one hand, she yanked the combs from her hair and let it cascade down to her shoulders. She had the aroma of flowers. Then she turned up the collar of her fur coat to cover part of her face. Tears rolled down her cheeks. I saw the desperation in her eyes.
“Please.” She squeezed my arm. “I don’t know this hotel.”
The elevators and outside doors were blocked by uniformed cops. I whisked her toward a side room.
A cop in a cheap brown suit noticed us walking away and yelled, “Hey, you two. Get back here.” I used to be a cop and I knew one when I saw one. This guy was probably a plainclothes detective. “You’re interfering with a police investigation,” he yelled.
“Maybe we should go back.” She stopped. “I’d hate to get you into trouble.”
“Believe me. It wouldn’t be the first time. This way.”
I noticed her striking resemblance to Ava Gardner. I pulled her along and headed to an empty room.
The cop caught up with us as I pushed open the door and turned on the light. I pulled out my PI license. He grabbed it from my hand just as I moved my jacket to show him my gun.
“Oh hell. Skylar Drake. I should have known.” He tossed my license back. “Why do you have to mess around with this investigation?”
“You have your job and I have mine.” I nodded toward the raven-haired beauty standing behind me.
“You stay put, Drake, while we sort this out.” I held up three fingers in a Boy Scout salute. He frowned and backed out the door.
I reached into my tuxedo jacket pocket and handed her my business card. Her perfectly shaped eyebrows went up. “Skylar Drake, Private Investigator.”
I nodded. “Now I need to get back to work.”
“I can’t be seen here.” Her tearful emerald green eyes sparkled in the light. “May I count on you to be discreet?”
My mind raced with a hundred things she wanted me to be discreet about.
Another plainclothes detective from my old precinct stormed in. I remember him as a real blowhard. “Drake. What the hell are you doing here?”
“Working and I was just leaving.” I nodded to the woman. “Nice to have met you, miss.”
Before the detective could get out another word, I slipped out the door and walked back to the lobby.
I checked the time—two a.m. The police had finished with most of the guests and allowed them to leave. The party was over. My job was done.