Murder is One Option

Setting - McGregor Point, Bruce County, spring maybe 2002… Jane and I are birdwatching from the Ducks Unlimited Viewing Tower. Kind of romantic. No one else around, right?

Shoot but doesn’t an obnoxious know-it-all birder show up. His goals - to correct us (‘it was a flycatcher not a phoebe,’ he notes with distain.) And to creep us out (‘are you nervous out here on your own?’)

When we finally shook loose from the meddler, Jane sidled close and whispered, ‘That guy’s a serial killer.’ I laughed. She laughed. Still, it made one consider - what did he have in store for us? Nothing obviously.

But many years on, the memory of Jane’s wisecrack sent me down the path to ‘Murder is One Option,’ my stage play. I think it’s pretty darned good and so I pitched my play to Blyth Theatre a couple days ago.

This Muskoka photo, taken by our daughter Beth, looks a little like our Tower marsh.

Lost my Muse

I was damned lucky to get to spend fifty-two years with Jane. I really wanted more.

Some of the people who have read my Jack Beer mysteries have asked whether there is much of me in Jack or much of Jane in Sheila, his love-interest. I have always said, ‘just a little.’ But that isn’t true. The love between those two fictional characters is unwavering, which is way more than ‘just a little.’

Beth's Terry Fox Team

This September, our daughter’s Terry Fox team surpassed their $10,000 target. And after eight years of fund-raising, the team nudged past the $80,000 mark.

As a self-published writer, my sales are not huge but I am happy to report that my 2023 profits of $630 all went to the cause. My wife Jane rounded up our pledge to $1000.

Here are seven members of Beth’s team. (I’m the old guy.)

Readers Like ‘One Last Fix’

Writing is more fun than golf, which makes a lot of sense if you’ve seen me golf. It’s almost as much fun to hear comments like, ‘My kids are mad because I made them leave me alone until I finished.’ Another reader said, ‘That may be your best Jack Beer mystery yet.’ Then there was this one - ‘Jack Beer needs a TV serial.’ (Waiting for Hollywood to call. Thinking George Clooney. Watch for it.) Here I am at a reading. I also juggle.

Jack Beer fans

One Last Fix has been out for a few weeks and I’m hearing back from Jack Beer fans. For one thing, a couple readers enjoyed losing themselves in my convoluted plot lines… which is one measure of success.

One Last Fix

Jack Beer slipped into my brain 15 years ago and has lived there since, only to escape again onto the pages of my sixth mystery novel. As always, Jack investigates by tripping over false leads, chasing down red herrings and blaming the wrong suspects… though he’s not really to blame. This missing persons case is plagued by deep complications, conflicting storylines and a host of devious bad guys. Buy an ebook through my website here to see how he solves the case. Or email me for a paper copy at rickhundeymysteries@gmail.com.

Plunge or plan?

‘Faith is taking the first step when you can’t see the whole staircase.’  This quote belongs to Martin Luther King. And it got me thinking. Is that how I write my short stories?  A spark flares and I go with it… no plot outline, no end in sight. Do I step out in faith? Well, yeah. It’s true - I start typing. Sometimes the staircase ends, and my work plunges into nowhere. I like it better when faith rewards me.

Where did Jack Beer come from?

Looking back, I’m grateful for the way family history stirred my imagination when the thought of writing a mystery series was still wishful thinking. The name Jack Beer, for example, originates in the photo of my father’s WWII platoon: I ‘borrowed’ Private G. Beer’s name and then decided he would be Jack’s grandfather. This marked a jumping off point for Jack’s full biography. And there was a bonus - Jack’s grandfather became an important character in his own right, in part due to his heroics at the Dieppe disaster.  

Remembering Jim

A little like Twain and Leacock, Jim had a knack for spinning the ridiculous that is all around us into goofy jokes. Looking back thirty years, it was great fun to leave the office to chat with Jim over coffee… when we both should have been working. 

Those who knew Jim well, will recall his sense of humour. But some may have forgotten about Jim’s athletic pursuits. While in his mid-forties and my son was a teenager, Jim and Eric joined the Exeter tennis club. They were often paired for doubles. Eric was very good. Hard to get a ball by him. Jim was effective at the net, where he usually planted himself at the ready.

One evening I wandered to the courts. Jim and Eric faced a pairing that looked much like my son, fitness-wise. Jim looked ‘otherwise’

As usual, Jim went to the net, at the ready. Eric served. The return went deep. It was a tough get but Eric’s shot was likewise deep. Jim turned his head left as the ball sailed by. He then watched the next shot nip the corner. Eric fired a low one to Jim’s left. He watched it go by. The next volley flew past him, within reach, if only he’d seen it. Jim got himself ready again. Eric sent another one deep. The next volley zoomed by, as Jim again watched, still at the ready.  Then, a shot came right at Jim. But it was coming fast. The smart decision was to duck, so he did.

And so it went. Back and forth. Back and forth. Eric racing from corner to corner, returning everything. Meanwhile, Jim stayed at the net, knees slightly bent, racket properly positioned, his head turning left, then right, then left, and so on.

Some rallies go on forever. This was one of those rallies… until Eric pegged the far corner. Though out of position, their opponent somehow got a racket on it. But when the ball came back, it did so weakly. It was headed right at Jim. Luckily, he had maintained his ‘at the ready’ readiness.

With the ball practically floating there, right in front of him, Jim slammed that ball into the cinders. Winning point, Jim.

Eric laughed. I laughed. The opposing doubles team laughed. Then strutting a little, Jim walked over to my son, “Eric,” he said. “You carried me longer than my mother did.”