Rook, Rhyme And Sinker

See why everyone's still talking about London's favorite pickpocket.

With the coming release early 2016 of Between Good And Evil, first book in the Auburn Notch Mysteries, I thought it might be nice to pop back across the pond and revisit an old friend from London. Rook, Rhyme and Sinker is the second book in the Ernie Bisquets Mystery Series. It's a traditional English cozy set in contemporary London, and features one of my favorite characters—Ernie Bisquets. I'm working on the next book in this series, The Vicar of Whetstone, but the anticipated release is not until late 2016. Until then, I thought it might be nice to give those who haven't met Ernie yet a glimpse of this thrilling mystery. I've posted the first chapter below. Enjoy!

Rook, Rhyme And Sinker

CHAPTER ONE / So Cloudy Doth the Day Begin

For all the curiosities that meet the eye in Camden Town, and herein is reference to that which captures the attention of the endless stream of visitors crowding the streets of this section of London, one could be confident in saying they would be at a loss to find someone who could accurately describe the weather on the day of their visit. No matter what reason prompted the visit—the market stalls, the locals, or to take part in the darker pleasures this part of town has to proffer—the weather is neither seldom a consideration nor a deterrent. One can ask, and one may get a thoughtful attempt at an accurate depiction of the meteorological conditions, but invariably the conversation will revert back to the sights that overwhelmed their other senses. And for those who had gathered this day on the bridge overlooking the lock on the Regent’s Canal, they will be going back with more of a story than Camden Town usually has to offer. Even those characters who were the typical point of interest had their attention captured by the body bobbing in the cold water of the lock below. Some wondered if it was a friend; others, if it was a customer. Most were cinching up their collars on this wet, spring morning, just trying to get a better look at this poor soul, speculating amongst themselves how he’d met his end.

The police had cleared the area of spectators along the walkway between the shops and the wrought iron railing separating it from the lock. The less curious went about their business, unaffected by the event, while others remained intrigued and joined the group assembling on the dining terrace above. It’s for certain a dead body isn’t good for any neighborhood, but if you happen to own the cafe above a crime scene, it’s standing room only. With camera-phones clicking away, this poor chap’s end was quickly broadcast around the globe…a far cry from the privacy and dignity afforded those meeting a similar end prior to the advent of the digital age.

The discovery was called into the Holmes Road Station. Detective Inspector Thomas Byrne was first on the scene, followed by a number of constables. Within minutes of their arrival, they were joined by a contingent of Special Constables from the adjacent stations to help control the scene. All was put in order straight away, so it was just a matter of the Medical Examiner, now.

The lock was full when the body surfaced, having been in the midst of transferring a canal boat. Those aboard the boat were asked to remain below deck until the body was removed and it was determined if their presence would be required. Camden Lock is a double lock, so the rest of the canal traffic continued with use of the adjacent lock, but at a much slower, and more inquisitive, pace.

It was obvious from the bloated stomach and neck of the man bobbing in the water that he had been submerged for some time; the build up of gasses in the body had caused it to finally surface. This was the first thing Dobbs, the local Forensic Medical Examiner, or FME, noticed when he made his way down to the water’s edge.

Dr. Percival Dobbs was part of the Medical Examiners Group assigned to Camden Town. His training was complete, including the two-year probation required for the position. Most FMEs work on a part-time basis, but Dobbs was hoping for full-time status as he eagerly anticipated his renewable ten-year contract offer. He’d been an average student at King’s College, London, graduating in the upper middle half of his class. It wasn’t until he’d attended the Royal College of Surgeons that he’d begun to excel. His fascination with the effects of external forces on the human body was, to some of his colleagues, a bit obsessive, if not disturbing. To Dr. Percival Dobbs it was all in the name of science; to the official police it was an invaluable resource.

Dr. Percival Dobbs was in his mid-thirties, with brown hair and pleasant features. He wasn’t an over-achiever academically, but his curious nature and well-honed research skills never left him wanting for an answer to a problem. It would take very little time in his company to find his thin build was in complete contrast to his eating habits; he was rarely seen without a pocketful of biscuits or a takeaway container in hand. His bleached-white lab coat was dotted here and there with a mustard stain and, on those occasions when he turned out his pockets, a weekly collection of bakery crumbs would cascade out amongst the assorted coins.

Dobbs found the routine of hospital rotation so incredibly dreary that he’d slowly gravitated to forensics in the criminal environment. It was this calling that had brought him to the ME Group, and now found him at Camden Lock, assisting in the retrieval of the aforementioned body.

“What have we this time?” he called out as he approached the Detective Inspector.

“Not sure about this one,” replied Inspector Byrne, walking across the gates from the brick island that separated the two locks.

After the body had surfaced, it had floated into the upper corner, against the right side gate, where it remained. It was face up, pink, and grotesque in appearance. The fish had nibbled a bit at the ears and eyelids, only enhancing the overall grimness of the man’s demise. He was fully clothed, though the expansion of his stomach had popped a few of the lower buttons of his plaid shirt. His neck was also bloated, something to be expected when a body has been in the water for a few days. Though darker, since it was wet, his brown hair held no trace of grey.

“Give a hand, here,” Dobbs said to the inspector, pointing at the body with the biscuit he was eating. “Let’s get him out and take a look.”

Fortunately, the water level was up, so the two men wrestled the body on to the pavement without much effort. Dobbs knelt down next to it. He looked for a place to set his biscuit, but instead stuffed the remaining piece in his mouth. He leaned in for a closer look at the head and face, while holding his hands away from the body and brushing the crumbs off. He continued to slowly look over the body, stopping only to lift the right arm.

“Don’t like the looks of that,” he said, holding the arm out for the inspector to see. “He’s a user, this one, but only occasionally by the looks of these marks. You see this one?” Dobbs said, and the inspector leaned down for a look. “This needle mark is fresh, but these others look quite old. I’d say this chap recently slipped back into an old habit.”

“Not surprising for this part of town,” replied Inspector Byrne. “A bit queer though, that is, him being out, dressed like that.”

“Brilliant,” Dobbs said, rising to his feet. “I noticed it, too, and that, sir, will give you a reasonable place to start. It’s been chilly for the last two weeks, except last Thursday evening was exceptionally warm and it continued into Friday. By midday Friday the cooler weather had returned, and it’s still with us. I’d put his end at Thursday, late. This would explain the short sleeve shirt and light trousers. It might be accidental, but I’d put a fiver on him having a bit of help with his late night swim. I’ll know more when we get him back to the lab. Who found him?”

“The couple on that canal boat,” replied Inspector Byrne, pointing over at the boat tied off in the lock. “Or rather, it was at the woman’s scream that drew attention to the body. The lock was filling, apparently, when he surfaced.”

“Right. Do we know who he is?”

“I checked for a wallet when I arrived, but his pockets are empty.”

Dobbs knelt down again and took a close look at the left arm of the deceased. “I believe he had a watch, too. Probably taken with the wallet.”

Dobbs stood back up and fished around in his jacket pockets, finally pulling out a yogurt container and a plastic spoon. Inspector Byrne gave him a curious look. Dobbs fumbled about for a moment but retrieved a second yogurt from another pocket and held it out to the inspector. As Inspector Byrne shook his head in response to the offer, he noticed a familiar figure in the crowd standing down towards the bridge. He appeared to be waving in an attempt to gain the inspector’s attention. With some reluctance Inspector Byrne gave a nod to the constable to allow the man through.

A gaunt figure shuffled over from where the crowd was being held back. He was an older man, slightly hunched and very gruff in appearance and attitude. The local police knew him in the area, more by his appearance than by his name. “I believe I may be of some help, Inspector,” the man said as he approached the two officials.

“And how might that be?”

“I had the misfortune to be at the end of this bloke’s random plea for help,” said the man. “No doubt he got my name from the book. It’s a dog’s breakfast, it is. The first time I don’t ask for my fee up front and look what happens.”

“So, you know this man?” Dobbs asked.

“No,” was the sharp reply. The old man sneered at Dobbs for a moment and then looked over at the inspector and continued. “Last week a man calling himself Mr. Simon Railes came to my office. He handed me an envelope and a wallet, asking that I hold them for him until he returned on Sunday. I said I would do so, but I expected payment for my services also at that time. He agreed, and that was the last I saw of him.”

“Would that have been Thursday?” Dobbs asked.

The old man didn’t acknowledge the question. “Well, I can see why he didn’t make it to my office yesterday,” he said, giving the body a nudge with his foot.

“So, you’re saying you can identify this as the man who came to your office?” Inspector Byrne asked.

“I’m saying this looks remarkably like the man who introduced himself as Simon Railes. Plaid shirt. Dark hair. He was a bit on the nervous side. It was late Thursday afternoon when he knocked up. Here”—he paused, handing a watch to the Inspector—”he gave me this for collateral. It’s a fake, otherwise I’d be pawning it for my fee.”

“It’s evidence, now,” Inspector Byrne said, taking the watch from his hand.

“I guess you’ll want these, too.” The old man pulled an envelope and a wallet from his pocket and handed them to the inspector. “When he didn’t show yesterday I decided to open the letter. It seems your friend, here, was intending to depart this world rather abruptly. I was bringing these to you at the station when I saw the crowd gathering here.” The old man stood slightly hunched over, causing him to strain a bit as he looked up at Dobbs. He curled his lip and tossed another sneer in his direction. “Maybe it will help you determine the cause of death.”

The inspector accepted the wallet and envelope. He removed the letter from the envelope and took a moment to read it over. It was brief and to the point.

By the time these words are read aloud, I will have left those I’ve walked amongst for so long. Though I cannot erase the sorrow I’ve caused others, I can, in good conscience, promise there will be no more. S.R.

“Suicide, you say? He must have been incredibly determined to do it,” Dobbs said nonchalantly, brushing at the yogurt that dripped on his waistcoat.

“Why so?” the old man snapped back, choosing once again not to acknowledge Dobbs’ presence by addressing the remark to Inspector Byrne.

“Despite one’s desire to end their life,” Dobbs continued, unaffected by the deliberate snub, “most people have the involuntary reaction to preserve it, especially in the water. Drowning is not a first choice for those opting to off themselves, and if it were, they would most certainly weight themselves down or leap from a very high bridge. This would eliminate any chance of an involuntary action thwarting their intended result. Pills, a gun, hanging—these are more permanent and preferred methods. Once you kick out the chair it’s extremely difficult to change your mind, no matter what involuntary reaction you have. But, there is always the exception.”

“Yes, there is the exception,” snarled the man slowly. “Like I said, I only met him once. He was a bother then and he’s proving to be an even bigger bother now. I’ll be lucky not to catch my death of cold standing out in this dampness with your lot. He still owes me money, you know.”

“So you mentioned,” said the inspector, looking over the note once more.

“Let me understand this,” Dobbs said, with an accusing glance. “A perfect stranger brings you a note and hands you his watch and wallet with a promise to return on a specific day. When he doesn’t return, you read the note, realize he is intending suicide, and do nothing to stop him, or even raise an alarm until the next day?”

“Unless I had the foresight,” the old man slowly replied, drawing out each word with contempt, “to drain the Regent’s Canal prior to his visit, there wasn’t much I could do to stop him, was there? So cloudy doth the day begin. Well, if this conversation continues on any longer, I may have use for a rope and a chair myself. I’ve done my duty—not that I’ll be paid for my trouble—so I’ll be off. Good day, Inspector.”

With that said, the old man stuffed his hands deeply into the pockets of his long, black coat and started back towards the bridge.

“Pay no attention to him,” Inspector Byrne said, taking hold of Dobbs’ arm. He waited for the old man to disappear into the crowd and then continued. “He’s a lawyer here in Camden. His office is on the High Street. Miserable old bugger, he is.”

“Do you believe him?” asked Hobbs.

“For now, yes.” The Inspector bent down to take a closer look at the face of the man they’d pulled from the canal. “As for Railes, I know the name. He’s been in and out of trouble here for years. This could be him. I’ve seen him in the station and around town, here. He’s a confidence man, always on the hustle. Looks about the right age. There is a resemblance, and we do have his wallet, now, but you’ll let me know what you find out.”

“We should be able to get prints,” Dobbs said. “He’s been in the water too long to make a computer match, but a good fingerprint man should be able to match them to any you have on file for this Railes chap. I’ll get them off to the Yard straightaway. If you have any documents of his I can match the handwriting against that would be of help, also. We should have the results by the end of next week, unless you want me to put a rush on them.”

“No,” said Inspector Byrne. “I may change my mind if you turn up any evidence of foul play, or if someone comes forward inquiring about a missing person other than Railes who fits this same description. For now, I would have to say Simon Railes has left this earth by choice, but for reasons yet to be determined.”

“Right. The method still concerns me,” Dobbs said, pulling the second container of yogurt back out of his pocket. “Judging by the note, and the fact that he bothered to leave one at all, he’s put a fair amount of thought into this. Then, in contrast to that, he picks a perfect stranger to announce his intentions to, and chooses a suicide method that seems more accidental than planned. I don’t think we’ve learned all there is to learn about the demise of Mr. Simon Railes. I’m not convinced this was by choice. I’ll get him back to the lab and we’ll see what else he has to tell us.”

Click here to find out what happens next. Paperback Amazon  ebook Kindle

Michael is represented by Sunbury Press, and is a proud member of the Crime Writers Association and Mystery Writers of America. To read more about his books, visit: rmichaelphillips.com. 

Early 2016 will see the release of Between Good And Evil—first book in the new Auburn Notch Mystery Series—from Sunbury Press. But for you Ernie Bisquets fans, the 4th book in the Bisquets series should creep into the light of day before the end of 2016. Ernie and his old friend Simon Railes will be teaming up again for an exciting new mystery. Stay tuned.

Don't Just Delete The First Victim

Don’t just kill them, put a little thought behind it. There’s only a handful of basic ways to bring about the demise of your victim—shot, stabbed, poisoned, crushed, starved, tossed off a building—you get the picture. Doing it is something I’ll devote another blog post to, so for now I’m just going to talk a bit about after the fact. Let’s face it, if the opening murder is going to be the inciting incident, why not add a little something extra to the deed. Get those readers wondering what the hell is going on from the moment the body is found. Don’t just stumble over the badly decomposing corpse in a dark corner of the basement of the old abandoned house on the edge of town, have the red ember of a wooden match head draw your attention to a dark object bundled in the corner of the crumbling basement. Wait a minute. Did he say red ember? Was someone just there? Who was there? Are they still there? Adding subtle layers gets the reader’s mind churning. It’s a great foreshadowing mechanism, and it works just as well used as a red hearing if needed. 

As a rule, I’ll write the first draft pretty much straight forward. No bells, no whistles, no layers, just get the main thoughts down. The new book, Between Good And Evil, came in at 50k words for the first draft. In the second draft I added in all the color and substantiating details. It’s during the second draft when most of my plot twists and turns surfaced. It’s at that point I went in and added the little details like the red ember of the match head by the body, (the red ember is for example only and not a spoiler alert), revealing its importance in a later chapter. All those what-ifs come into play here. I’ve mentioned this before; if a what-if pops up and surprises me as I'm writing a scene I’m pretty sure it will do the same for the reader. Use them to your advantage. Not everything needs to be planned. Writing the book should be just as exciting as reading it, otherwise why do it? 

By the time the second draft was done I was up to 70k words. It’s off to the copy editor at this point. Once it came back I went over the edits, made changes, and adjusted plot points where needed. Once that was complete, I did the fine-tuning in the third draft. All went well and the story landed at 80k+ words. All the subtle layers are now neatly woven together into the story. The seemingly insignificant details standing alone in their respective chapters are ready for the reader to clump them all together, leading them to the Aha! moment near the end of the story once the murderer/s is revealed. 

Whoever said, “The devil is in the details,” must have been a mystery writer.

Character Mapping

Ernie Bisquets is an accomplished pickpocket, plying his trade in the affluent Mayfair section of London. Always impeccably dressed, and well versed in the current topics of interest to the swells he targets, he is able to blend in amongst them without raising a suspicious brow. He has his own code of honor ‘I don’t steal from those who can’t afford it’, and always thinks twice before putting himself or others in danger.  Likable, philosophical & pragmatic, streetwise, capable, and knowledgeable in his own fashion. He suffered hardship in life, never knowing his father and losing his mother at an early age, but has kept his kindness toward others and a positive attitude. Etc., etc., etc.

This is character mapping, one of the most important aspects in story creation. Besides the basic physical appearance of a character, you need to map the background, cause and affect of motivation, and, most importantly, how they interact with all the other characters. A simple grid can accommodate this last portion of the mapping, but for the essentials try this link- http://www.epiguide.com/ep101/writing/charchart.html. It’s rather extensive, but for complex characters you’ll need all the background you can dream up. For most characters you won’t need to fill in the entire chart at first, but as your story progresses you can continue to fill in as needed. All this is extremely helpful for a character series.

Once the backgrounds are established you can move on to relationships. I use a basic chart for this. Starting with character #1, chart their relationship with character #2, character #3, etc. After that, move on to character #2, charting their relationship with character #1, character #3, character #4, etc.  Do this until you’ve got a sound relationship between all your characters.

To continue this further, take your main characters–antagonist and protagonist–and detail what their intentions/motivations are, what obstacles are in their way, how they intend to overcome those obstacles, and who will ultimately triumph through the interaction between themselves and other characters. This will also give you the bones of a synopsis.

Once this is established, move on to your plot lines. How many plot lines in the story? The main plot is a given, but then there are the sub-plots. How do they affect the overall story? Which characters drive the plot lines? I find sub-plots to be an especially fun part of story creation. Taking what appears to be an unimportant plot diversion at the beginning of the story and weaving a specific aspect of it into the main story for that “Aha!” moment near the end is always exciting. Think of these little sub-plots as great foreshadowing tools.

Now, down to the writing. Like anything else, there is always more than one way to do something. Sift through all the advice that’s out there, but you need to find your own voice. As for the mechanics, some writers work from detailed outlines, some just forge ahead with a basic idea and a keyboard. You also need to figure this out for yourself. As for me, I start out with a basic synopsis of the story, and write a three of four line outline for the first three chapters. Once these are underway I let the characters takeover, continuing to jot down additional chapter outlines as we move along. My thought here is–if the twist in a chapter surprises me, it will probably surprise my readers.

Above all this advice is one basic rule, never give up. If you have a story to tell, tell it. Take the criticism in stride, pull from it what you can to make the story better, and then keep at it until it’s published.

Look for Passage Of Crime, 3rd book in the Ernie Bisquets Mystery Series. Available now!

What's in a name?

In case you missed my guest post on Christa Reads and Writes, here is a recap...

You would think naming a character would be relatively easy task. We are surrounded by names of all sorts–heavy in regional or foreign origin; plain as the nose on your face; barely pronounceable; etc. So, what’s the big deal? The big deal is you most certainly want your character to be memorable to your readers and, perhaps, beyond. Maybe it’s the Dickensian spirit in me, but I believe the mere utterance of a name should conjure up a visual of the character it relates to, or at least give the reader a glimpse into what is to come. This is never more important than with supporting/tertiary characters.

When I do the character mapping for a supporting character in a book the last thing I pen is the name. I’ve found this to be the easiest way. Done right, the name almost presents itself. In Along Came A Fifer I had a tertiary character that, though only briefly presented in the book, had an important roll in establishing the character/motives of two of the main characters through sub-text. For this, his character description was of the utmost importance, and from there his name. He’s only briefly included in three chapters, but is mentioned by name throughout the book. For that reason he needed to carry his character along with him. This is where the right name comes in.

In my mapping of this character he his described as such:

He was a vile little man, devoid of friend and conscience. He was just short of five feet, but every inch meaner and lazier than the one below it. His character was as crooked as his smile, but he was well known in the London underworld as a source of information. Anyone wishing to extract that information from him did so with contempt and then made every effort to leave behind any recollection of the transaction. To say he read the daily papers is an understatement. He dissected them, line-by-line and word-by­word. He could read an obscure article in the classifieds relating to a grieving woman’s attempt to locate a lost article, and by the time he was done he would know who had nicked it and how much they had gotten for it. Anyone else of questionable character would parlay this kind of knowledge into a handsome income, but to him, the gathering of information was nothing more than a hobby that filled his otherwise empty afternoons.

Women found him most unnerving, cringing at the sight of his lascivious glare and fending off his endless advances. They certainly wouldn’t have him over for high tea, but if someone nicked their silver tea service it’s a good bet he’d know where to take the fairy cakes. He very rarely left his flat in the church building, so a person would have no other choice but to inquire for him there. To anyone outside the murky puddle of villains he associated with he was just a rambling fool of little or no social value.

So, what would you name this character in keeping with the description above? It took about an hour of perusing the digital thesaurus, but I came up with what I thought best framed this vile little man–Maunder. First name? Last Name? It didn’t much matter, in the book he is just Maunder.  

maun·der [mawn-der]

verb (used without object)

1. to talk in a rambling, foolish, or meaningless way.

2. to move, go, or act in an aimless, confused manner: He maundered through life 

    without a single ambition.

Origin: 1615–25; origin uncertain

In the first book he’s there and then gone, but Along Came A Fifer is part of the Ernie Bisquets Mystery Series. Developing tertiary characters like this allows me to call on them again in future books to fulfill similar rolls.

Not all are this difficult to establish. In Rook, Rhyme and Sinker an old friend of Ernie’s gets himself into a bit of a jam. He’s a pick pocket/confidence man like Ernie, but still on the wrong side of the law. I called him Simon Railes. His street name is “Slippery”, Slippery Railes. That name came to me while listening to a weather report and the reason for the local train delays due to a surprise snowstorm. It isn’t hard to imagine his place among the characters. He’s returning in a new story, but that’s a post for another day.

It was great sharing some insights with Christa and her readers. If you get a chance, stop by her blog and read other insights from the authors that have stopped by.