This Thursday, January 21 at 5:45 p.m. There will be an interview, 20 mins. live on 90.1 fm, Houston. streamed and archived on kpft.org. The topic Deadly Thyme. The interviewer will be Michael Woodson. The interviewed will be R. L. Nolen.
An Interview with John Graham prior to his journey to Cornwall and Deadly Thyme
Interviewer (Michelle Smith-Greene) – I’m having a recorded conversation while taking notes as to his expression with Jon (no ‘H’) Graham, born in Bristol, he says, and now living in London. So Jon, tell me about yourself.
Jon – This is great. But why me?
M – We want to put a face to the job of policing, add a human element. So, tell me.
Jon – What is there to tell? What you see is what you get.
M – What do I see? My radio listeners want to know.
Jon – That’s easy. A thirty-two year old man with a nose that overtakes the rest of his face. He has good enough eyes (oh! – green). He has unruly brown hair, a day’s growth of beard -not his fault – forgot his shaver- and a propensity to slouch when thinking about something. Yes, and he has a true fear of failure in anything he attempts.
M – That’s interesting. First of all, I would not have said that your nose was large. And your hair has a wave to it with some blond streaks. Did you add those?
Jon – Not blond, I’m afraid, more like gray. Job stress, that’s why I took up surfing.
M – One doesn’t normally think of England as being a surfing hot-spot.
Jon – That’s where you’d be wrong. There are good waves if there’s any breeze at all.
M- It’s cold isn’t it?
Jon – Freezing. I have a wet suit.
M – How often do you surf?
Jon – I surf on my days off, two days a week. Year-round. If I catch three good waves, I’m happy. Besides, any more than that and I couldn’t feel my feet.
M – where did you learn to surf?
Jon – On holiday in Cornwall with my girlfriend. She was good at it. Much better than I’ll ever be. I’m a bit clumsy.
M – Was?
Jon – Excuse me?
M – You said your girlfriend was good at it?
Jon – That’s all due to the fact my girlfriend is presently past tense.
M – Ur . . . About your job.
Jon – Detective Sergeant with the London Met.
M – Sounds impressive. (Psst, to my listeners. This man is a total knock-out. I’m overwhelmed.) What is it you do exactly?
Jon – I work in the internal fraud division. We investigate crimes within the police department, those which are of a serious nature.
M – What does ‘of a serious nature’ mean?
Jon – Smuggling, drugs, you name it.
M – Murder?
Jon – Not since I’ve been in the department.
M – I’ve heard that your department is not the most well-liked department among other police.
Jon – They think we’re out to get them.
M – Are you?
Jon – Not unless they are doing something they shouldn’t.
M – You mention fear of failure. What does fear of failure mean to you?
Jon (shrugs) – I don’t like to be wrong.
M – Explain with an example.
Jon – I like to see a project through both at home or at work. I like it to be right, tied up, no loose ends. You get the picture?
M – You’re a perfectionist?
Jon – I’m too much of a slob. But yeah, maybe at the office. My desk is neat. But at home, nothing neat there. And it’s more . . . it’s just I hate to lose.
M – Competitive?
Jon – I am striving for a personal best at everything.
M – Sports?
Jon – Rock climbing. Surfing is a sport.
M – Be serious. (he gives me a searching look, lovely eyes.)
Jon – I am being serious. Hey! What are you saying, Michelle? Okay, I do like cricket but I’m no good at it. I love football. I used to play in a policeman’s league.
M – Why ‘used to?’
Jon – I joined Fraud and suddenly my “mates” were out to kill me. Besides, I discovered rock climbing, and surfing. Once you’ve surfed, there’s nothing else. I’ve even been tempted to chuck the job and pursue surfing full-time.
M – And why haven’t you?
Jon – The money, of course. It’s not just me I worry about.
M – Married? Children?
Jon – No and no. I help my mother out. My sister and I share care of her. But she also has Mrs. Fleet.
M – Your mother? Is she old? Who is Mrs. Fleet?
Jon – She’s part of the family. A carer. My mother is a young fifty-five. But she’s in a wheelchair, car accident. A bad one. My father died. She’s very energetic and she paints. Acrylics. Her paintings are beginning to sell at a gallery close to her home.
M – I’m sorry. That’s so tragic. Do you live with your mother?
Jon – No. But we aren’t far from each other. She actually lives with my sister when she’s in town.
M – Where do you live? Nice home?
Jon – On a policeman’s salary? Joking, right? My flat. It’s okay, very small. My bedroom is my living room is my kitchen, more of a bedsit really. A horrible mess at the moment. Hey – you’re taking notes? Don’t let me mum see.
M – So you see your mother when you aren’t working or surfing.
Jon – Three times a week, when I’m in London.
M – Your job is flexible then?
Jon – No. The hours I put in are more regular hours. I used to be in Murders. My hours were never regular then. Never knew how much I’d be working on any given day. I think of the difference as what an emergency room doctor’s job is as compared to a dermatologist’s job. I’m the dermatologist of policemen.
M – What kind of crimes are you handling at the present time?
Jon – There’s a case come up in Cornwall. I’m going down there – today actually.
M – For how long?
Jon – Just a few days.
M – Then you already know what your errant police officer has done?
Jon – this is off the record right?
M – Yes.
Jon – It isn’t completely clear, that’s why I’m going down there. To wrap up the on-going investigation. Say, you won’t be putting this out yet, right? I mean, you’ll be holding it until I come back, right?
M – I said I would. But it does sound rather juicy. I could stand the ratings boost.
Jon – Would you like to go out sometime?
M – After the interview, lunch?
Jon – Sure. When I get back from Cornwall? Casual. We could discuss when you’ll air this then.
M – I’m up for a deeper discussion, yes.
Jon – Mmmm?
M – You’re a bit of a scoundrel. (Folks, he has such a smile, it would melt rocks.)
Jon – Putting a face to policing then?
M – the photos you’ve given me so far have done nothing for you.
Jon – How’s this one then? It’s me and my sister. She’s the good-looking one.
So it was Christmas!
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I know I’m a day or two late, but Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
We had a memorable one this year. We have a new grand boy and after a rough start, he’s doing great! Yesterday his great-grandparents saw him. The smiles were unending. What a joy that four generations were able to celebrate – all in relatively good health – in the same room. I took lots of photos. They are on my phone. I don’t know how to get them to the computer yet. But I’ll update as soon as I’m able.
News of note for my career. I’ve tried to get my books on Bookbub for over a year. My publisher found out, and got me on bookbub. Thank you SkipJack publishing! If you want Deadly Thyme for 0.99 January is your month. But I encourage you to sign up for Bookbub.com. This is a free sign-up thingy. It’s a service that sends you a daily email – to your inbox with free or seriously discounted books. Not just any books. Obviously it takes a lot of oomph to get a book on bookbub. I’ve gotten Charles Todd (a favorite author) books for $1.99 on Bookbub. It’s a wonderful service, you will never be disappointed. Consider my advice a Christmas gift. I couldn’t recommend them higher. Sign up and then recommend the service to your friends. They will thank you.
My book will be featured on January 4, so sign up NOW!
Another amazing thing to happen is that Deadly Thyme is part of a five book set to be released exclusively on Amazon January 1. Pamela Fagan Hutchins (Amazing Grace), Marcy McKay (Pennies from Burger Heaven), and Ken Oder (The Closing) have their wonderful books in this set also. Their books are incredible reads. Yes, there are four books listed but Pamela Fagan Hutchins has added a bonus book.
Did You Know I’m a Woman of Mystery?
Shhhh. My affiliation as Secret Agent Danger-woman with this world-famous group of women is little known. What we do and who we are has been kept under-wraps for centuries. For a sneak peek at what we are up to you must meet with us to see us in action.
Today, December 12, 2015 The Women of Mystery will be at Murder by the Book bookstore on Bissonnett at 4:30. I hope you’ll join us.
http://www.murderbooks.com/event/houstons-women-mystery-event
Thanks, Giving, Shopping, and The Wall Street Journal
Thank you so much for a wonderful year to all those who have helped me buying, or reviewing my books. Thank you for your encouragement. Thank you for giving a love for reading to people around you. Thank you for good memories.
‘Tis the season for giving. I haven’t been shopping on Black Friday in so many years I can’t count them. When my children were little (really little) my mother-in-law would spend Thanksgiving at our house. She would offer to babysit while I hit the stores for Christmas gifts and Christmas décor. I found great deals galore.
I never camped overnight, or went first thing, but I have gotten up at the crack of dawn and gotten to the store early. This year with the big hoopla over Black Friday – the controversy, working or not working on Thanksgiving — Workers in hospitals, fire stations, and police stations will tell you there are good and bad things about working holidays. But from polls on Facebook I could see that the main thing is the double and sometimes time and a half-pay that people who work holidays get. I went black Friday shopping, on Black Friday.
I’d seen the sewing machine advertised in the paper. I looked on Amazon. Wow, this Brother model had great reviews. And the Wal-Mart price was close to $200 cheaper than the original sales price. Wow, a computerized Brother machine for $99. Such a great price.
I used to sew. But having a machine that would jam every time I used it was frustrating. That was thirty years ago. I haven’t had a machine in thirty years. I wouldn’t even be thinking about this except that I found quilt tops that my grandmother had pieced together in 1980. One of those quilt tops is crib size. And I have a new grandson. Soooo…
I went into Wal-Mart about 9:30 on Friday morning. The parking lot was nearly empty. I’ve never seen a Wal-Mart parking lot so empty. I parked up near the door. I went to the sewing machine aisle, seeing no shoppers on my way. There was no Brother $99 sewing machine. Bummer! There was one that looked like the one in the paper for $129. Hmmm. I found a sales associate to ask if there were any of the $99 ones in the back. She looked at the sewing machine sales tabs on the shelves and sort of shrugged. Then she said, “Wait a minute. I thought I saw…” And she walked to the end of the aisle, smiled and pointed. There was a huge stack of the $99 machines. I was shocked, but I bought one and exited the store.
A nicely dressed woman in the parking lot stopped me and asked me if she could ask a question. Now, if you’re like me, you don’t mind talking, but not necessarily to strangers in parking lots. She quickly showed me a badge that I couldn’t read and she said she was with The Wall Street Journal. I found that highly unlikely but thought I would go along. She asked me good questions though. Mainly, what did I think about this Black Friday sales day? I told her I was shocked there were no people in the store, no cars in the parking lot, and it sure didn’t feel like a Black Friday shopping day. A lady pulled her car up as we were talking and asked us if Black Friday was over. That’s how bad that empty parking lot looked. Ha.
I got home and discovered that the lady in the parking lot was following me on Twitter. Holy Moly! She really was 
journalist. What?? Thank you, Erin Ailworth!
So here is the article in the wall street journal It’s a great article AND my name is mentioned. https://t.co/FolZdXfdFk Whoot!
Happy Getting-All-Prepared-For-The-Holidays!!
Try Not to Breathe by Holly Seddon: A Review
After I finished reading Try Not to Breathe by Holly Seddon, I sat stunned from some time absorbing the feelings I had about the story. There aren’t many stories that I can say that about. You may even say this story left me breathless.
The story begins with a series of flashbacks from a then, fifteen-year-old Amy Stevenson. Then flash forward about fifteen years to more present day and the reporter who is trying desperately to get her life back after a series of disasters and struggles with addiction. Alex Dale, the reporter, is a believable and sympathetic character. Alex is the same age as Amy who is now what we might consider a vegetable because of a brutal attack that left her in that condition when she was fifteen.
As the story unfolds we jump from Alex’s increasingly fragile existence to the POV of Amy who flashes through “wake” and “sleep” periods as do some “vegetative” patients. The suspense builds as we readers try to figure out who did it and why we need to worry that whoever did it is about to do something equally horrifying. There are many layers and folds as this story pivots and twists into what it becomes – a complex story with believable characters who left me rooting for them.
I won’t ruin the story for you by telling any more than that but just know this – if you are privileged to get this book as soon as it comes out, do so. You won’t regret it.
I was fortunate to receive the book from Net galley for a fair and honest review.
Five Big Stars for a lovely engaging read.
Tumbled Graves by Brenda Chapman: A book review
I’m fortunate to be able to get books before they are published through Netgalley. Tumbled Graves by Brenda Chapman is one of those books.
The novel has a creepy beginning that pulls the reader in: Catherine Lockhart is a neighbor of Adele Delaney’s. She and her son go to Adele’s house to find out why Adele and her daughter didn’t turn up at a scheduled play date for their children. She finds the house’s front door open, the breakfast on the table uneaten, Adele’s purse and keys and car are still at the house. Catherine calls the police. The police search and don’t find Adele or her child. They do find the child’s coat and shoes strewn haphazardly in the woods behind their house, along the path that leads to the half-frozen river.
The author expertly takes the reader through the search experience using different points of view, first Catherine’s, then the police investigators, Paul Gundersund’s and Kala Stonechild’s. The characters don’t leap off the page, but do, over time, become likable. Each of the lead investigators have believable flaws, Gundersund – a soon-to-be-ex-wife who is also the chief medical examiner, and Stonechild has a past she would rather not talk about or have anyone find out about.
Every time the reader thinks the story is going in a certain direction there is a twist. I will not disclose these as they are good for the shock value. Each one is believable and leads to the story turning on it’s “head” and going in a different direction. The ending is certainly not predictable at all. There are things the reader is privy to and the detectives are not, but then there are things the reader can not imagine and must discover just as the detectives do.
I give the story 4 out of 5 solid stars. Recommended for people who love mysteries and suspense set in Canada.
Thirteen Reasons Why: A Book Review
Jay Asher has created a masterpiece of writing with his novel Thirteen Reasons Why, a Young Adult novel about a girl who has recorded thirteen things that may or may not have led to her suicide.
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Young Clay, one of the recipients of her recorded tapes is torn between guilt over something he may have done, and horror that he may not have done enough. His very “teen” voice sounds so authentic it’s hard to believe that Mr. Asher did not follow some teen boys around with his own tape recorder.
Really. I am so impressed.
This book deserves its international best-seller status. It speaks not only to angst-torn teens but to those who genuinely have contemplated or are contemplating suicide. But it isn’t a “how-to” book, or a cautionary tale. It is a beautifully crafted tale of sorrow from a girl who believed she would never ever have a good reputation again, despite the fact that she had done nothing. Nothing. Every human on the planet who has experienced being wrongfully accused would empathize with and appreciate the main character Hannah Baker. The cautionary message is this: “Be Kind-everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about.”
The Light Between Oceans: A Book Review
The story is about a lighthouse keeper. The time period is just after World War I. The place is a small rocky island off the coast of Australia. Now you want to read the book, right?
The lighthouse keeper is an honest young man who is having trouble escaping the ghosts of his fallen comrades from the war. He feels as if he cheated death and he shouldn’t have. In one of the first scenes, he rescues a woman on the ship he is traveling on as she is about to be sexually assaulted. (This is the famous “Save the Cat” moment. The reader loves him from this point on.) And this is not just any woman.
He continues to rescue things, fastidiously record his lighthouse duties, and fall in love with a girl from the mainland.
Fast forward in the story and he and his wife have had two miscarriages and a stillborn baby when the lighthouse keeper finds a rowboat washed up on his island with a dead man and a live baby in it. Of course he and his wife keep the baby and quietly bury the man, though the lighthouse keeper believes he is doing something very wrong.
They won’t realize how wrong until they accidentally learn the truth about the child’s parents while on shore leave.
This book has so many layers and delights for the serious reader. I love the play on words in the title. The information about lighthouses and how the lights work in those days blends so well into the narrative the reader hardly feels they are learning something. The Light Between Oceans could be the actual light of the lighthouse or it could be the revealing of love between husband and wife, or between parent and child.
This was a great book. Recommended. 5 stars.
The Puppy Isn’t a Puppy Anymore
We had a little Chihuahua and some cats and I had no intention – None – of taking on another dog. Ever. Taking on the responsibility of a dog is huge. I know this. So I had no intention of ever doing it again. I had been looking forward to the peace and quiet of a house without teenagers, a house to nest in and write to my heart’s content. I was determined to get all those novels I had in my head on paper, maybe finish some illustration and picture book projects.
Around that time I got an email from my daughter. She was a student at Texas Tech in Lubbock. The subject line read “Look at my new puppy!” The pictures showed an adorable black, tan, and white hound with humongous feet. I emailed back and said, “No, you can’t keep a puppy. It’s going to be huge! There’s no room in your apartment. Take it back. Get rid of it!”
At around that moment, my husband called her just to say hello. I overheard him say, “Why are you sounding so sad?” Then I heard, “I never said you couldn’t have a puppy.”
When the hound was 4 months and 45 pounds her roommates rebelled. She brought him home over Easter break and said, “Could you keep him for me?” I said, “Is he house trained?” She said, “Not very well. But he has a crate.” (Because everyone knows that a dog crate makes everything better?) I said, “Thanks.” Though that word was said sarcastically. Mom had a dog, and not just any dog, but a growing, floppy-eared, clumsy, drooling, smelly dog.
Writing, you say? Writing? When I would sit down at the computer and had the right words, before I could get them down, the mutt had to go out. And that means desperately for a puppy because a puppy that size holds a lot of pee. Or I was in the middle of a break-through paragraph and before I could get it into words, the hound would leap off the ground with a tremendous barking that wouldn’t stop until I put him out. My nerves were a little jittery at that point. Oh, yeah, writing wasn’t going so smoothly either.
Then there was the time I came home to find the mutt surrounded by the couch cushions. He’d chewed a hole completely through one of the seat cushions. Not even turning it could hide that one. It was a “Marley” moment.
In between lots of life-changing things: my parent’s illnesses and deaths, the daughter coming to live with us, the joyous birth of our grand girl, three house renovations and three moves, and lots of shuffling of other family members, the writing and the dog are still here. He isn’t a puppy anymore. He is a big dog at nearly 80 pounds. He sheds constantly and copiously, so when I sweep the wood floors of our vintage house I feel like I’m gathering up small puppies with my broom.
Sometimes I wonder if I’ll survive his goofiness. One day as I was walking him he saw a…you guessed it…a squirrel. On. The. Ground. Yes. And I didn’t see it so wasn’t prepared. I landed on my stomach about four feet from where I had been standing. When I landed I let go of the leash so he didn’t sled me to the light pole where he ended up barking his silly head off. And this evening when I went to give him his “treat” and it was dark in the kitchen and I lowered my hand at the same time that he snapped. I do still have my thumb. It’s just a little numb.
And the times my husband has barefoot-slipped in his drool (because he feeds him the end piece of his peanut butter sandwich every evening, this one shouldn’t even be in the mix.)
But wherever we’ve lived whether near downtown or even out in the wilds of Sugar Land, if our gorgeous mutt sees a stranger, he becomes Mr. Seriously scary-bark-growl-snapping-dog. And therefore his value surpasses all the gutted couches and buckets of doggie-throw-up there have been. Do I have an amen to that? Amen.
He’s a keeper.
Rebecca Nolen 