A good magician will never tell you the secrets behind their
tricks. Like a good 3 Card Monte dealer, it can be their patter, talking away
to make it more difficult to find the lady and win the money.
Mystery authors do the same thing. But
sometimes, we might drop a hint or two to give you a clue.
Last week someone asked me about such clues. I gave the
example of a character’s name. When I’m
developing a character, it’s not uncommon to start out with a basic name as a
placeholder. Then as more traits are identified, that will lead me to research
a name that fits and may give the readers a clue.
One of my favorite characters of all time was Travis McGee,
the protagonist in 21 mystery novels by John D. MacDonald. Depending on the source, Travis means
traveler, or someone at a crossroads.
Good name for someone looking for the next adventure, as was so often
the case with McGee.
But misdirection can be more than a name. It can be
something that appears in the story that the characters pay a lot of attention
to but has little bearing in the actual case. Or it can be a subplot that gets
your attention going one way, when the real action takes place elsewhere.
I explained all this while answering the question about clues.
But apparently my response wasn’t specific enough. The young lady listened
closely, nodding all the time then asked, “So are you a gambler or a con-man?”
“I’m a storyteller, so that would be closer to a con-man.”
That was an answer she could
live with.
Here’s an excerpt from Fleeing Beauty. In this scene, Jamie and her friend Ian are
cleaning her late father’s studio. It’s been more than twenty years since he
passed and Jamie is slowly discovering more about the man he was. At Ian’s
insistence, she is ready to come to terms with items stored in his roll top
desk.
It was a square box,
wrapped in the type of paper you’d use for a child’s party. The paper was
faded, yet you could still see the images of colorful balloons floating around
a white script that read “Happy Birthday”. With trembling fingers, I picked it
up and turned it around, looking at each side as if expecting a clue to the
contents.
“Aren’t you going to
open it?”
I gulped to get my
voice back. “It might not be for me.”
He reached into the
cupboard and pulled out a small envelope that had been beneath the package. My
name was written across the front of it. I set the box down and worked a
fingernail beneath the flap of the envelope.
The front of the card was an explosion of colors, like a fireworks
display. Inside was a simple message. “May all your birthday wishes come true.
You are the sparkle in my eye, the warmth of my smile, the glow in my heart.
Love always, Daddy.”
Ian had stepped back
to let me read the message in private. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand
and passed him the note. From the center drawer I pulled a letter opener.
Carefully I slit the tape around the wrapping paper. Inside was a cardboard box. I pried open the
lid and slid the contents out.
“It’s a wooden box,”
Ian said, peering over my shoulder.
“Not just any box.
This is a puzzle box. I used to love to put puzzles together when I was small.
Peter would sometimes help me.” I handed
it to him.
He tried to open it
without success. He shook the box lightly and we could hear something rattle
inside. “So how do you open it?”
“That’s the trick.
Some of these boxes require a number of pieces being moved in the right order
before the lid slides off. This may take some time.”
“I’m curious what will
be inside.”
“Yeah, I’m wondering
too.”
Here's a musical interlude that seems appropriate from the band Blondie.
No comments:
Post a Comment