Tag Archives: Crime

A PRETTY EVIL TALK WITH AUTHOR SUE COLETTA

Every once in a while, two crime writers click. That’s what happened four or five years ago when I met Sue Coletta online. Since then, we’ve been the best of buddies even though Sue lives with her husband in New Hampshire and I live with my wife in British Columbia. Before you get any funny ideas there’s hanky-panky going on through the internet, be aware that our spouses fully endorse our partnership and they share our off-colored jokes. Bob and Rita also approve of the criminal deviancy we write about on a daily basis.

No. Hang on a sec… they approve of our writing, not the deviant criminals.

I say partnership because Sue and I constantly help each other out. We’ve collaborated on writing guides, we’ve co-helped others with their work, we’ve cross-blogged many times, and Sue was instrumental in getting me onboard the Kill Zone team as a regular contributor. We also encourage each other in new ventures, and I’m so happy to say that Sue was recently approached by a major U.S. publisher to research and write a true crime book about historic female serial killers in New England.

Sue’s new release is about to come out. Globe Pequot, a division of publishing giant Rowman & Littlefield, is putting Pretty Evil New England on the shelves real soon. I’ll let Sue tell you about it and, if you stick through to the end of this post and leave a comment, you’re automatically entered into a Globe Pequot contest to win a print version of Pretty Evil.

Here’s a conversation that only gets worse…

Hey, Sue. Welcome back to the DyingWords shack. You’re a sucker for punishment. Mind if I prod you with a few questions?

Haha. Guess I am! Hey, would you mind dimming that bright light a bit? I’m sweating like a horse in last place. While we’re on the subject, are the restraints necessary? I know you’re passionate about DyingWords, but the rope’s starting to dig into my wrists.

Restraint is an old tradition around DyingWords. Sort of a right-of-passage for guests. Tells us… What’ve you been up to with your new book baby, Pretty Evil New England: True Stories of Violent Vixens and Murderous Matriarchs?

Pretty Evil New England tells the stories of five female serial killers who used New England as their hunting ground. For those who aren’t familiar with the area, New England encompasses the states of Connecticut, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, New Hampshire, Maine, and Vermont. The reason I chose these specific female serial killers was because, during their reign of terror, they murdered at least one victim in all six states. Not separately but combined. Also, these “ladies” murdered a total of 100 victims, and that’s only the ones we know about.

Perhaps I should share the description to give your readers a feel for the book.

For four centuries, New England has been a cradle of crime and murder—from the Salem witch trials to the modern-day mafia. Nineteenth century New England was the hunting ground of five female serial killers: Jane Toppan, Lydia Sherman, Nellie Webb, Harriet E. Nason, and Sara Jane Robinson.

Female killers are often portrayed as caricatures: Black Widows, Angels of Death, or Femme Fatales. But the real stories of these women are much more complex.

In Pretty Evil New England, true crime author Sue Coletta tells the story of these five women, from broken childhoods to first brushes with the death, and she examines the overwhelming urges that propelled these women to take the lives of a combined total of more than one-hundred innocent victims.

The murders, investigations, trials, and ultimate verdicts will stun and surprise readers as they live vicariously through the killers and the would-be victims that lived to tell their stories.

Fascinating! I think this is your first toe in the true crime water. How’d this come about?

I’ve written plenty of true crime stories on my blog, but not an entire book. This project challenged my storytelling skills to not only portray accurate points in history but to show readers how and why these women stole the lives of so many innocent victims. I accomplished my goal by slipping into the killers’ skin and showing the world through their eyes, as well as other key figures in the cases, including the dogged investigators who caught them.

How’d this project come about? I got lucky. *kidding* But seriously, things like this don’t happen every day. Here’s the scoop…

The stars aligned, angels sang, and the gates of heaven opened wide. That’s how it felt, anyway. In May of 2019, a woman on Twitter asked if I could follow her back so she could message me in private, but I didn’t respond right away. After a flood of recruiting cam girls all vying for me to join them, I’d become overly suspicious of strangers who asked to PM me. But once I read her bio — specifically the words “acquisitions editor” — my interest piqued. When I followed her back, I apologized for the delay in responding. In my defense, I was also working on final edits for RACKED, Grafton County Series, Book 4, at the time. Within minutes, she asked if she could email me instead.

After sending my email address, I still didn’t give the quick exchange much thought. But then my curiosity got the better of me and I engaged in a little online stalking research and discovered she worked at Globe Pequot, a publisher in Connecticut.

Still, I couldn’t quiet the voices in my head. What could this offer be about? Why me? Is this for real?

Due to past experiences it’s fair to say I was more leery than excited at that point. When the email dropped into my inbox moments later, I read it about a dozen times to search for clues of how the offer might be a cruel prank or something even more nefarious, like some hacker’s idea of a good time, a hacker who went through the motions of creating a fake Twitter profile for the sole purpose of tricking some poor schmuck like me.

If you’re thinking, wow, Sue’s skeptical and suspicious, you’re not wrong. Writers are the targets of numerous scams. If we don’t protect ourselves, who will?

Anyway… The signature line read “Rowman & Littlefield Publishing Group, Inc.,” and the proverbial lightbulb went off. Globe Pequot is the trade division of Rowman & Littlefield, one of the largest publishers of nonfiction and America’s leading book distributor. Both Globe Pequot and Rowman & Littlefield have been in business since 1949 and are highly regarded in the publishing industry.

In the email said she ran across my blog post Female Serial Killers — Unmasked during her initial research for a book idea. She also checked out my books, other articles on my blog, and social media presence before contacting me. Within a month we’d hashed out contract terms and I had a new project. And the rest, as they say, is history.

Now, you’ve been a crime writer for quite a while now. You’re no newbie when it comes to penning murder stories… especially serial killer tales. How’ve you found the change or transition from crime fiction to true crime?

True crime is a lot more work. For example, if the cast of “characters” didn’t say something in real life, I can’t put words in their mouths to benefit my story. Every piece of dialogue, action, clothes, décor, setting, etc., must mirror real life. For a fiction writer, it’s easy to let my mind reimagine the scene. But with true crime, I can’t. A funny thing happened while writing, though. I developed a fondness for accuracy. To write a compelling storyline while maintaining a factual narrative wasn’t easy, but I welcomed the challenge. Still do.

I had a chance to read an ARC (Advance Reading Copy) of Pretty Evil New England. Thank you very much, by the way, and it’s extremely well written. I’m blown away by the detail. You have precise legal documentation, forensic procedures, and entire evidentiary transcripts from events happening in the 1800s. How in the world did you pull this off?

My background as a thriller writer helped a lot. 😊 When the opportunity was first presented to me, I knew I didn’t want to write a dry history book. What fun is that? So, I structured Pretty Evil New England like a thriller. Weaving in historical documentation without slowing the pace took time, patience, and a lot of swearing. By the way, when you said prod with questions… this was not what I had in mind.

Builds character. Now, about women serial killers. Are they a rarity… or is it rare they get identified and caught?

They’re not as rare as you might think. Females make up 20% of all murderers. But, and this is huge, most female killers don’t stop at one victim. To put it into perspective, even though females only make up 20% of all killers, they represent a larger percentage of serial murders than of any other type of homicide in the U.S.

You deal with five main female serial killers in Pretty Evil New England. Did you come across more but couldn’t include them in your book?

While researching I found enough female serial killers to write about them for years.

Yikes! You did an amazing amount of research in putting Pretty Evil New England together. Give us some of the highlights.

Thanks! Maybe you can ease up on the pressure while I share some of my research trips

No, but go ahead anyway.

In the state archives I found old diaries spanning 50 years. These diaries were written by a close friend and neighbor of the New Hampshire victims and killer. The handwriting took me forever to decipher, but once I did the additions of diary entries added a cool touch to the overall storyline.

One of my coolest discoveries was an entire floor in the old house where several victims lived and died, a floor untouched by time, perfectly preserved in 1881. I laid my fingers on the same ivory keys of the piano that the victims and killer did. I sat on their sofa, admired their belongings, and perused their stunning mahogany and glass bookcases filled with priceless first editions. Surrounded by history, Bob and I were overcome by emotion. We could only stare — wide-eyed — taking it all in. It was one of the most surreal experiences of my life. I was literally walking through the pages of my book.

Another research trip took me to a Potter’s field in Taunton, Massachusetts. It’s heartbreaking to view the graves of people who died, their bodies unclaimed by family, with nothing more than a number to mark their existence.

Then I drove to Cape Cod (6 hours round trip) and to Harvard University (4 hours round trip), which was also an amazing experience. One of the top physicians of late 1800s to early 1900s kept a scrapbook there, which is why I went. That trip also created a cool parallel between my life and my book. My mom went to Harvard, so it was the first time I got to experience a brief moment from her past. She died when I was a teenager. Like many folks who experience loss, I long for any brief glimpses of her life.

Touching. In all seriousness, Sue, that’s touching. You used some striking quotes about female serial killers that other authors over time produced. How about sharing some?

Thanks. I thought they were a cool feature. Here are the first three…

According to FBI behaviorists, the best way to survive a male serial killer’s attack is to let him get to know you on a personal level. By humanizing yourself, you’ll ruin his fantasy of you as a victim. This won’t work with a female serial killer. They already know you. — Federal Bureau of Investigation

It’s about the pleasure of the kill—the sense of power she gets—the buzz. Taking property is just a warm snack in the feast control—a little further satisfaction, a tingling in the killer’s tummy. — Peter Vronsky, author of Female Serial Killers

Although most female serial killers murder for money or other profit, some do it for the attention and sympathy they receive following the death of someone they cared for. — Psychology Today

Poison – The weapon of women. Is this an M.O. (modus operandi) unique to women killers… serial or otherwise? I don’t recall a case of a man using toxins in a murder.

Men use poison, too, but it’s not nearly as lethal as poison in a woman’s hand. One exception could be The Teacup Poisoner. In 1961, at age 14, an Englishman named Graham Young began testing different poisons on his family, eventually murdering his stepmother. He also poisoned his father, sister, and best friend. After confessing the following year, the court sentenced him to 9 years in a hospital for the criminally insane. At which time doctors released him as “cured,” even though he poisoned a fellow inmate and promised to murder one person for every year of incarceration. This led to two murders, two attempted murders, and 70 other poisonings over the next year. He received four life sentences for his crimes.

Two other quick examples: In 2008, David Steeves, a Long Island man, murdered his estranged wife with cyanide. In 2013, William Cain, a Kentucky man, plead guilty to adding “just a little rat poison” to his wife’s coffee.

Women prefer poison for various reasons.

  • Easy to obtain.
  • No muss, no fuss. A light sprinkle is all it takes.
  • No blood to clean up afterward.
  • They don’t need to hide the body.
  • The patients languish while they care for them.

Death by poison is not an easy way to go. Victim suffering pleases the female serial killers. Unlike men, women don’t keep trophies. Murder is their ultimate reward. If you think men are vicious, then you’ve never pushed a woman to the point of wanting to kill you. LOL

I had a woman try to kill me.

I sense a story here.

She hatchet-threw a mill bastard metal file at my head. The handle-less point jammed into the wall two inches from my left ear. Then I whacked her with my police-issued flashlight. Hey – I’m amazed by the toxicology sophistication used back then to identify poison. Give us the Cliffs Notes version of how arsenic works on the human body and how the forensic scientists back then identified arsenic poisoning.

Wasn’t that fascinating? I don’t mean nearly getting a metal-working tool imbedded in your brain. The toxicology… it blew my mind, too. Many of the toxicology tests are still used today.

Death by arsenic is a not a fun experience. In most cases, symptoms appear within the hour. The first sign is an acrid sensation in the throat, followed by nausea which grows more and more unbearable by the moment. Vomiting sets in and continues long after the stomach empties. The victim dry heaves until they’re throwing up fluid streaked with blood. The mouth parches, the tongue thickly coated as the throat constricts with an inextinguishable thirst. Anything he or she drinks only makes the vomiting worse. Uncontrollable diarrhea, often bloody, complete with racking abdominal pains. Some victims experience burning from mouth to anus. The eyes grow hollow. Swelling of lips, eyes, and under the chin can occur, and the skin is cold and clammy. Breathing labors, extremities ice cold, the heartbeat weak, and binding cramps in the muscles of the legs. Depending on the amount of arsenic administered, these symptoms last from a few hours to several days or weeks.

I should add, not all of the serial killers in this book used arsenic. Some were more creative.

How chemists detected poison back then? No matter how many times you hit me with the cattle prod, I refuse to give away all my secrets. Read the book. 😉

I didn’t hit you with the cattle prod. I zapped you. There’s a difference. Okay, I don’t want to give any details away about what happened to the pretty evil killers in your book, but I have a curiosity. When it came to trial, convictions, and sentencing… do you think these killers were treated lighter because they were women?

Hmm, without ruining the ending, I can say a couple of the juries might’ve gone easy on them, but in those cases, factors beyond gender were also at play. The others, no. Two in particular suffered fates worse than death.

I’m going to put you on a hot-spot. Do you think women are smarter than men when it comes to serial killing?

Absolutely. Ouch! Easy with electricity jolts. Okay, okay, I’ll explain…

On average a male serial killer’s reign lasts about four years. Female serial killers? Eight to ten years. And some last thirty years without detection. Imagine how many weren’t caught? Statistically speaking, women are simply better at serial killing than men. 😊

By definition, what is a serial killer? Just a sec… you shouldn’t be smoking. Gotta turn this down.

Whoah… smoking… no… that’s better. Today’s FBI definition is “the unlawful killing of two or more victims by the same offender(s), in separate events.” It used to be three or more with “a cooling off period,” but they’ve updated the definition since then.

By population percentage, are serial killers on the rise? Are they increasing in proportional numbers? Or, have they always been part of societies?

They’ve always been part of society, and that includes female serial killers. I don’t know if I’d say the numbers are increasing, necessarily. It may appear that way because law enforcement has better tools to identify serial clusters now. Though the numbers do boggle the mind. In May 2019, I wrote a post entitled How Many Serial Murderers Stalk Your Streets, which offers eye-opening statistics for each state within the U.S. as well as an overall count for numerous other countries, including Canada.

Any idea many serial killers are active in the United States alone today?

Last time I checked the database (2019) we had 1,948 active serial killers in the United States. The good news is, after age 30, your chances of being murdered by a serial killer drastically reduces.

I’m well past 30. Okay. Let’s get off this gruesome topic and talk about me for a while. J… K… Let’s talk about Sue Coletta. What’s your background? How’d you get your writer chops? Where’re you at today? And what does tomorrow bring once Pretty Evil New England tops the charts?

My background is in law (paralegal). I also owned & operated two hair salons. During that time, I wrote about a dozen children’s books. Not for publication, just for friends’ kids to enjoy. It wasn’t till 2012 that we moved north, and I tried my hand at crime writing. How did I get my start? I chose the traditional publishing path, so querying, rejection, and finally scoring my first contract. I continue to write thrillers in my two series, Grafton County Series and Mayhem Series. I’m also working on Book 1 of a new true crime series, which is out on submission. This time around, rather than feature multiple female serial killers, I’ve focused on one ruthless woman whose crimes shocked even me.

Nasty. One curiosity. In Pretty Evil New England, you end with an interesting notation that death certificate procedure changed following the cases in the book. Can you elaborate on this?

Back in the day, attending physicians didn’t need to be present to issue a death certificate. In some cases, the doctor hadn’t examined his patient in weeks or months. Polite New England society didn’t browbeat the patient’s kin to dig for the truth. Instead, they relied on the family’s firsthand accounts to fill in the blanks.

The murderous acts of the five female serial killers depicted in Pretty Evil New England shook the foundation of medical and legal communities far and wide. These “ladies’” crimes led to death certification reform and a ban on arsenic in embalming fluid.

Last call. Where and when can DyingWords followers get a copy of Pretty Evil New England — True Stories of Violent Vixens and Murderous Matriarchs?

The “official” release is November 1, 2020, but readers can preorder at the following links and the books will be delivered by that date.

Amazon (all countries, Kindle & paperback)
Barnes & Noble (NOOK & paperback)
Books-A-Million (ebook & paperback)
IndieBound (paperback)
BookShop (paperback)
Globe Pequot
Rowman & Littlefield

Now, untie me! I’ll stick around for DyingWords readers as long as you keep that prod-thing to yourself.

——

Sue Coletta is no longer tied up and prodded for answers. She’s now available on the comment board. And… Sue has a free print copy of Pretty Evil waiting for one lucky person who writes “Gimme The Book” in the comment box. Thanks, Sue. You’re a sport!

Write “Gimme The Book” in the comments and win a FREE copy of Pretty Evil New England!

Sue Coletta (right) and Garry Rodgers (left) are crime writers from opposite sides of the North American continent. Sue is a member of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, the Kill Zone, and International Thriller Writers, She’s also an award-winning crime writer. Sue Coletta writes two serial killer thriller series, Grafton County Series (Tirgearr Publishing) and Mayhem Series (Tirgearr Publishing), with a Mayhem Series crossover novella in Susan Stoker’s World (Aces Press) and another in Elle James’ World (Twisted Page Press). Sue also writes true crime for Globe Pequot, trade division of Rowman & Littlefield Group, Inc. PRETTY EVIL NEW ENGLAND hits bookstores Nov. 1, 2020. Here’s Sue’s Youtube trailer for Pretty Evil.

ON THE FLOOR — NEW BASED-ON-TRUE-CRIME BOOK BY GARRY RODGERS

Savage… Shocking… Senseless… Who would order two seniors to lie on the floor of their gun store, then cold-bloodedly execute these defenseless people with gunshots to the back of their heads? That was the fate of Berndt and Erika Lankenau in their business, Shooting Sports Supply, on Vancouver Island at Canada’s west coast. On The Floor is Book 5 in my ongoing Based-On-True-Crime Series. The other series books are In The Attic, Under The Ground, From The Shadows, and Beside The Road. Between The Bikers is now in the first-draft stage.

On The Floor takes you inside an actual double murder investigation with real police procedures. You’ll travel with the detective and forensic team as they meticulously examine a complex crime scene and you’ll follow a trail of clues that end in a massive confrontation with who committed this heinous crime.

This book comes with a warning: On The Floor is based on a true crime story. It’s not embellished or abbreviated. Explicit descriptions of the crime scenes, factual dialogue, real forensic procedures, and actual police investigation, interview, and interrogation techniques are portrayed. Some names, times, and locations have been changed for privacy concerns and commercial purposes. Here’s the Prologue along with the first two chapters.

On The Floor — Book 5 in the Based-On-True-Crime Series

**New Release — August 2020**

Prologue — Saturday, January 11th – 5:30 pm

“On the floor!”
Erika Lankenau and her husband, Berndt, stood in silent shock.
“Get on the floor! Facedown! On the floor!”
The owners of Shooting Sports Supply, a prominent Vancouver Island gun store, froze.
Erika’s mouth opened. No words came out.
Berndt Lankenau hesitantly raised his hands.  His empty palms faced forward.
“You heard it! Get on the fucking floor! Right fucking now!”
“Vat… vat is dis business?” sixty-nine-year-old Berndt asked in his German accent.
“Just do what you’re told and no one gets hurt.”
Erika, sixty-four, bent her knees. “Do as ve’re told, Berndt. Do as ve’re told.”
“Listen to her, old man. Get your face down on the fucking floor, or you’re dead.”
Berndt swallowed. He kept eye contact. Slowly, Berndt lowered to one knee and put his right hand on the hard floor. “Ve don’t vant no trouble.”
Erika lay in a prone position, face on the cold concrete with her left arm stretched ahead. Her right hand felt for Berndt.
Berndt also obeyed. His arms reached beyond his head and his face was on the floor.
“One… Two… Three.”
Ba-Bang! Bang!

Chapter One — Sunday, January 12th – 9:15 am

My cell toned. I looked at the call display. Oh… Oh… It’s Leaky and it’s Sunday morning.
“Hey, Jim.” I called him by his real name, Detective Staff Sergeant Jim Lewis. Not by his nickname, Leaky Lewis.
“Hope you have no plans for the day.” Leaky sounded serious, and he was.
“Nothing that important.” I did, but I knew this would trump what I was in the middle of.     “What’s up?”
Leaky paused, then told me, “Looks like we got two bodies in Shooting Sports Supply. They’re motionless. Facedown on the floor.”
I paused, too. I knew the business, including the owners, Berndt and Erika Lankenau. I also knew Ripley Rafter who worked with the Lankenaus. Ripley—everyone called him Rip—was a retired patrol sergeant from our department and a gun enthusiast, through and through.
“Uh-oh. What does it look like?” I felt like I’d just received a next-of-kin notification.
“I haven’t been there yet.” Leaky hadn’t. Leaky rarely went far from the office or his home because he suffered a chronic case of urinary drip.
“Who has the scene?” I was mentally preparing. My gut said this wasn’t good. And it wasn’t.
“Uniforms have it secured. No one’s been in yet. The placed is locked like a vault. Unless we get keys, we’ll have to cut our way in.”
I tried to picture it. I’d been in Shooting Sports Supply many times over the years that I served as a detective and Emergency Response Team marksman, or sniper as some call it. Shooting Sports Supply was the leading gun store in Nanaimo, a seaside city of a hundred thousand on the southeast side of Vancouver Island in British Columbia on Canada’s west coast. Nanaimo is right across from the City of Vancouver—one of the most exotic, erotic, and expensive places on the planet.
“How do you know… can you see them through the windows or something?” I envisioned standing outside Shooting Sports and looking through the bars behind the glass.
“That’s what I understand.” I knew Leaky nodded. He talked on the phone like he spoke in person. Leaky was an amicable guy and my supervisor at the Serious Crimes Section. He was junior to me in service but then, so was everyone else. I was the oldest on the detective squad and mulling retirement.
“So, is someone locating the keys, or a torch, or something?” I asked a logical question.
Leaky probably nodded again. “Yeah, Harry is tracking down the owners’ son. Our property index shows the primary contact as Mister and Missus Lankenau. They didn’t answer their phones, and there was no one home at their house. Speculation is it’s them dead on the floor.”
“Wait.” I processed this. “How do you know they’re dead?” Something wasn’t making sense.
“Well, ah… you can see through the window.” Leaky sounded slightly annoyed.
“I know you can see through a window, but how do you know there are two dead bodies?”
Leaky hesitated, then slightly chuckled. “Who’s on first… No. I haven’t been there myself. Harry has. She was in the office when the call came in reporting something suspicious inside. A uniform dropped by to check. The lights are on inside, but the doors are locked. He, the uniform, could see the shapes of two people lying face down about twenty-five feet ahead along the main aisle. So the Watch Commander called for Serious Crimes and Harry just happened to be in the office. Harry says it sure looks like two dead bodies to her, so she’s now on a mission to get in.”
Harry was my partner on the Serious Crimes Section. Her real name was Sheryl. Sheryl Henderson. Sheryl was a large lady with large hair and an even larger personality. We called her Harry after the Bigfoot on the movie Harry and the Hendersons.
“Okay.” I slowly got the picture. “So how did this start? Who first found it and called it in?”
I could hear Leaky sipping his coffee. I’d hinted Leaky should cut coffee out as it only made his incontinence worse.
Leaky continued. “From what I understand… and this is hearsay… a customer dropped by to see if Shooting Sports Supply was open, even though it’s Sunday. The front door was secured, but he was puzzled because the lights were on and it looked like they were open. He… the customer who I think is one of our reserve officers… don’t quote me. He rattled the door, tapped on the glass, and peered through the main window.”
“Okay.”
“So the customer takes a jolt when he sees the forms of two people that looked like they were facedown on the floor half-way down the aisle. At first, the guy thought they were dummies. Like, placed there as some sort of weird scarecrows in case someone planned a burglary. Then, he does a double-take and sees what looks like dried blood pools around their heads.”
“Uh… oh…” I pictured it.
“Yeah. Sure doesn’t sound like an accident or kinky double suicide to me.”
“No…”
“I think we got something nasty here. I want us getting inside as soon as possible. Also, I want to ass-cover with paramedics just in case there’s still life.”
“Doesn’t sound hopeful.”
When Leaky said dried blood around the head and face down on the floor, it hit home.
I feared they’d been executed in a robbery.

Chapter Two — Sunday, January 12th – 10:05 am

I pulled my unmarked Explorer into the Shooting Sports Supply parking lot. It was a small strip mall in a light industrial area of central Nanaimo, across from the main Golf & Country Club. The complex had mixed-use businesses surrounding the gun store that ranged from a fireplace dealer to a karate school.
There was a small group mustered outside the front door. They were adjacent to a large, freestanding electric sign that bore the triple-S logo set in a circle and designed to represent a telescopic sight with crosshairs. Two marked police cars sat without their emergencies flashing, and two uniformed officers stood with their hands in their pockets. I recognized both, but I was lost for their names. Our department now exceeded one hundred and eighty sworn officers. Then, we employed a host of civilians in support roles.
I recognized another guy dressed in combat pants with a duty vest overtop of his issue jacket. He was Matt Halfyard, an understudy with the Forensic Identification Section. We called Matt Eighteen Inches.
I also recognized a reserve officer who’d been with our force for a long time. Randy Mellow shuffled from foot to foot and kept blowing on his hands. I didn’t know if he was trying to warm himself or if he was shaken up.
I didn’t blame him for wanting warmth. Even though the Nanaimo area of Vancouver Island has the mildest climate in Canada, the winter months are wet and chilly. The low temperature especially affected me as I suffered from Reynaud’s Syndrome. That’s a hereditary condition where I lost feeling in my fingers and toes when the mercury dropped below 40 Fahrenheit. Fortunately, my wife had bought me a pair of electric mitts, and I wasn’t afraid to wear them.
“What does it look like, Matt?” That was my standard opening line.
Matt also looked cold. He’d already recorded the outdoor scene temperature. It was 36 degrees, slightly above freezing, and it wouldn’t get much warmer for a few days yet. The overnight rain had stopped, but the clouds hung low. A haze shrouded the golf course across the street. It looked… ghostly.
“This is nasty. Real nasty.” Matt pulled no punches. “I’ve called Cheryl to attend. I think this scene is over my head.” Matt referred to Sergeant Cheryl Hunter, our senior forensic examiner. She was also Matt’s tutor and mentor.
“What’s happening with keys to get in?” I hadn’t talked to Harry yet. I phoned her, but she didn’t answer. That wasn’t unusual. I also didn’t leave a voice message for Harry because her greeting quite annoyed me.
“We’re waiting for Sheryl Henderson,” Matt said. “She couldn’t find the gun store owners… I think obviously… and their son, their next-of-kin, is listed as a contact person in case of an emergency. His name is Mike… Mike Lankenau and Sheryl can’t track him down either. We might have to call a locksmith.”
“Let’s hold off on that.” I shook my head. “I don’t want anyone involved with the scene more than absolutely necessary.”
One of the uniforms gave me a sideways look.
“Naw.” I shook my head. “That doesn’t include you guys. We need perimeter security, and we’ll have to clear the building before any scene exam starts. Tell you what. You two can start with a walk around the site. See if anyone is around and if they saw or heard anything. Also, look for unusual stuff. You know… something discarded from the scene, like in the dumpsters.”
The two uniforms spread out. One started a clockwise trip through the complex. The other went counterclockwise.
I turned to Randy. “I take it you found them. Has anyone taken a statement from you yet?”
“Yes. I reported it.” Randy nodded. “And no. No statement yet.” He shook his head.
“All right.” I motioned to my vehicle. “While we’re waiting to get the building open, jump in my Explorer and I’ll turn a recorder on.” I also turned on the heat which pleased both of us. This is what he told me:

——

“Okay, my name is Randy Mellow and I’m a reserve police officer with the Nanaimo department. I also work in my day job as a security systems technician. Just after nine a.m. this morning, I stopped by Shooting Sports Supply. I know it’s Sunday, but Berndt and Erika often stay open weekends. I left a rifle here to get a new scope mounted and… and I wanted to see if it was ready so I could go to the range and sight it in.
“First thing I noticed was the lights were on so I thought Great. They’re open. So I went up and pulled on the door and it was locked. That’s funny, I thought. I could also hear noise coming from inside like a loud radio playing.
“So I looked in the front window… I had to shield the glare… but I didn’t see anyone. I rapped on the glass and called out… loud… to get over the radio but no one answered. I gave it a few minutes and a few more knocks because I thought they might be in the back. In the gunsmithing shop. Not the retail area.
“Then I realized something was wrong. Like real wrong. They stood out… the bodies on the floor. At first, I thought they were a couple of dummies or mannequins as some kind of a joke or to scare off anyone trying to break in. Then I realized they were real… real people.”

——

Randy stopped. He caught his breath, swallowed, and carried on.
“I called it in to 911 and I waited here to give a statement. I knew I’d have to.”
“Describe what you saw.” I gave him a prompt.
“They were… they are… side by side lying on the floor with their faces down in the main aisle… about twenty or twenty-five feet in from the front door. I know it’s Berndt and Erika. I can tell from their looks and their clothes. I know… knew… them well. A lot of officers do… did.” Randy choked up.
“It’s okay. Go on.”
“Anyway… Erika is lying to the left. Berndt is lying beside her to the right. Their heads are facing away from the door… what direction is that… I guess kind of south.”
“Please describe their condition.”
He swallowed and continued. “To me, there’s no question they’re dead. No question. They’re in a facedown position on that cold concrete floor and are motionless. There is also…”
He halted. I thought he was going to break down, but he sniffed and went on.
“Please excuse me. Berndt and Erika are… were… my friends. They’re friends to a lot of us on the force. You, too, I imagine.”
Randy was right. The Lankenaus weren’t close friends of mine, but I certainly knew them from going in their gun store over the years. I was also friends with Rip Rafter and he hadn’t been located. I feared Rip might also be dead on the floor in the back.
He went on. “You can see brown staining on the… on the floor underneath them. To me, it looks like… dried bloodstains.”

——

Harry drove up. She was in her personal vehicle—a brand new silver-gray Range Rover. I finished recording Randy Mellow’s statement and got out. Harry got out, too.
“No luck with the goddam keys.” Harry shook her head. “I think the only fucking way we’ll get in there is a locksmith. Cutting the bars and smashing the glass sounds a little harsh. Especially since they’re already toast. Have you seen them?”
“No, I haven’t.” I knew I had plenty of time to do that. “What about Rip Rafter?”
Harry slurped from her stainless steel Starbucks mug. “I phoned there and then drove over. No one’s home, but Rip’s truck is gone. So is his boat. I think the old fucker’s gone fishing.”
That was a relief. I also didn’t see Rip’s truck in the Shooting Sports Supply lot, but the Lankenaus’ Jeep Cherokee was here. Locked up.
“And you can’t find the son… Mike Lankenau?” This concerned me. I knew a bit about the Lankenau family history, and some of it wasn’t smooth.
“Nope.” Harry slurped again. “He’s not answering the phone number we have on file, and there’s no one home at the address we have for him. But… that doesn’t mean either one is current. You know how accurate our contact system is, eh?”
I nodded. “And you went by Berndt and Erika’s place?”
“Yeah. It’s as dead as they are.”
“Okay. A locksmith it is.”
I Googled Gallazin Locksmiths, got their emergency number, and made a call.

——

Harry and I waited in my Explorer. We kept Randy Mellow at the scene. I had him stay out front of Shooting Sports and keep watch for any unexpected, although highly unlikely, movement inside. The two uniforms were still dumpster diving, and Matt Halfyard wandered around taking exterior photos and video.
It was Harry who said it.
“Don’t you find it strange these people are locked inside their own store? Like, that’s a manual deadbolt on the front door. It doesn’t lock automatically. Whoever did this had to have locked the door from the outside when they left and took off with their fucking keys.”

You can read the rest of On The Floor at Amazon, Kobo or Nook.

 

 

HAPPY NEW YEAR AND WHAT’S UP WITH GARRY RODGERS’ WRITING FOR 2020

Wow! How fast did two decades fly by? Seems like yesterday we were freaking over the new millennia’s Y2K impending doom of driving a dastardly internet chain reaction filled with devastating quirks and quarks through the hearts of our hard drives. Well, that never happened. As Trump says, it was fake news – all lies – a terrible, terrible hoax. Fortunately, it gave me twenty new years to polish my craft and plot my course. So, here’s what’s up with Garry Rodgers’ writing for 2020.

2019 was a productive year in the writing room. I penned and shipped about fifty feature articles for my daughter’s agency. None changed the world but they helped pay the bills. I also managed to scrape together personal blog posts for every second Saturday morning on DyingWords.net. Some pieces took a lot of research and I learned new things. That’s part of the many happy returns from blogging.

As well, I completed two full-length book manuscripts. One is a historical non-fiction work titled Sun Dance – Why Custer Really Lost the Battle of the Little Bighorn. It’s now with an imprint of Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, and we’ll see where that goes. The other is a based-on-true-crime story called From The Shadows. I was going to release it on Amazon this month, but put things on hold till January as I didn’t want it getting smothered in the Christmas market.

I’m also two-thirds through writing Beside The Road. It’s another based-on-true crime read in the same series as From The Shadows, Under The Ground and In The Attic. These formats have worked well in reader reviews and the sales department. So, if it ain’t broke, I’m not gonna fix it. I have more plots planned which follow true crime stories that I was either directly involved in or have decent personal knowledge of the case facts. Working titles for those are On The Floor, Beneath The Deck, By The Book, and Behind The Badge. I also have sights on writing The Mother From Hell which is based on a crazy case of Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy that I unfortunately investigated and got sued over.

My website at DyingWords.net continues to gain traction. I installed a web tracker in April and am pleasantly surprised to see I’ve had over 137,000 visitors during the last eight months. The most popular posts are true stories I’ve dissected like JonBenet Ramsey, Natalie Wood, Marilyn Monroe, Charles Manson and Elvis Presley. One post really surprising me is The Guy on the Greyhound Bus which gets twenty or more reads a day. That’s the case where a deranged passenger stabbed, beheaded and cannibalized a fellow rider on a public bus. Go figure.

But, a story getting a lot of attention doesn’t surprise me. That’s the high-profile and unsolved Lindsay Buziak Murder that happened at Victoria, British Columbia in 2008. I took on the task of researching Lindsay’s tragic circumstances, and it swirled me down a rabbit hole I couldn’t have imagined. I’ve met many of Lindsay’s family and friends as well as several suspects. One prime person-of-interest laid a criminal harassment complaint against me as a ruse to get me off her back. The cops said it was a civil matter, and I told her to sue me as I’d love to get her under oath and on the witness stand.

When I started privately investigating Lindsay’s murder, I was unprepared for her bizarre father. He’s been the drive to keep Lindsay’s memory alive by narcissistically placing himself front and center media-wise including his recent appearance on the Dr. Phil TV show. I was pathologically lied to and then personally attacked online by the dad. I had a real hard time coming to grip with how intentionally misleading he’s been in the years since his daughter was killed. It’s a sad and strange story on its own.

What I can say about Lindsay Buziak’s murder is that I may not be able to truthfully write the public story as the circumstances now sit. I have a lot of information about this awful mess, the motive for the crime and, with probable certainty, who the conspirators are. If I publish what I’ve learned and what people close to the story have candidly told me – to tell the truthful and accurate story – I might compromise an active police investigation and that can not happen.

What I can say about Lindsay’s case is she was a totally innocent victim of an elaborate conspiracy to frame her as a police agent. That was to cover up and protect a real police informant who double-crossed an arm of the Sinaloa Drug Cartel in a multi-million dollar cocaine loss. Yes, the story is that involved and complicated. I will also say, with probable certainty, the two people directly involved in stabbing Lindsay to death are a Mexican brother and sister pair who are now long gone from Canada. However, the co-conspirators who fed Lindsay to the killers are still active in the Victoria area. One of them checks my blog daily.

Moving on to other writing, I’ve spent the past few months digging into nerd-stuff like chemistry, biology and physics. I’ve also been snooping into philosophy, psychology, astronomy and anatomy. No, this is not some sort of weird enlightenment or cautious coming-out. It’s a serious look at the human condition centering on consciousness.

I’m preparing a paper with the working title Interconnect – Finding Your Place in a Conscious Universe which is more for my own curiosity than anything else. I’ll share it on an upcoming blog post as a PDF download as it looks like it’s going to be fairly lengthy – probably 20-30K words. It’s kind of a “What’s the Meaning and Purpose of Life” which has been sixty years in the making. I was hoping to wrap it soon, but I got three new books for Christmas – Origin Story (A Big History of Everything), When The Earth Had Two Moons and Lonely Planet’s The Universe Travel Guide.

I also want to share ongoing successes of my writer friends. First and foremost is Sue Coletta. If you regularly follow DyingWords.net, no doubt you’ll know Sue. We’ve collaborated on a few things, and I’ve watched Sue’s progression from her first book to her rise as a sought-after source for an upcoming true crime story commissioned by a major traditional publisher. In my opinion, Sue Coletta is one of the most talented and promising writers out there today.

Rachel Amphlett is another super-talent in the crime writing business. I had the pleasure of co-hosting an indie-publishing seminar with Rachel, and I have to say how impressed I am with her work not to mention her business savvy and drive. Rachel’s main stories are her Detective Kay Hunter series and her Dan Taylor espionage series. Rachel also writes stand-alone books in the crime thriller genre.

I’ve developed an online friendship with Caroline Mitchell. Caroline and I have something in common besides writing. She’s a retired detective from a UK police force who recommissioned herself as a crime writer. A really good and successful crime writer, I must say. Caroline has her DI Amy Winter books like The Secret Child and Truth and Lies which have been optioned for TV productions. Her stories Witness and Silent Victim also proved to be top bestsellers.

John Ellsworth is another writer I’ve got to know over the net. John is a recovering lawyer who writes legal thrillers. He tells me he set out to supplement his retirement income by a few hundred a month. Well, that took off on him. John is now one of the leading indie authors making Amazon money with his Thaddeus Murfee character.

While I’m name-dropping, have you heard of Adam Croft? Here’s a guy who’s done well for himself in the crime thriller world. Adam and I cross-blogged back in the old days when he wasn’t famous and I had hair – well before Adam became the number one book seller on all of Amazon with Her Last Tomorrow. Now Adam has sold nearly two million books and his list keeps growing.

And then there’s Joe Broadmeadow. Funny how old cops attract. Joe’s a retired captain from the East Providence, Rhode Island, detective division. He’s found his stride with true crime books like Choices – You Make ‘Em, You Own ‘Em and It’s Just The Way It Was. Joe’s also penned thrillers like Collision Course, Silenced Justice and A Change Of Hate.

I have a few more writing projects planned for 2020. One is an article for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) Quarterly publication. An editor at the Quarterly is an former colleague of mine, and he asked me to contribute a piece on Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) about how I personally coped after The Teslin Lake Incident where my close friend and partner, Mike Buday, was murdered beside me and I was nearly shot as well. This is part of a series the Quarterly is doing on modern approaches to managing operational stress injuries (OSI).

I’m also guesting a post on what detectives and writers have in common. This is for a very high-profile website catering to writers, not detectives. The site has been recognized as one of the top ten influencers in the writing business, and you’ll have to wait for April to see who this is.

On the writing business side, this coming year I plan to expand from publishing solely on Amazon. (Going Wide) You’ll soon find my indie works on Kobo, Nook, B&N, Apple and Google as eBooks. I’m also planning to offer most in print form and maybe a test on audio.

Speaking of audio, I want to run this by you. I’ve been mulling the idea of taking my most popular blog posts and turning them into podcasts. Some of these posts have had thousands of reads and hundreds of shares. Podcasting seems to be a hit with folks who don’t want to spend the time reading but are ripe for listening while driving, walking or whatever. What do you think? Would you tune in to a DyingWords podcast?

Anyway, that’s what’s happening  with Garry Rodgers’ writing for 2020. I hope you have a safe, healthy, happy, purposeful and prosperous new year. And thank you – thank you so much – for supporting my stuff!  ~Garry