Now the rest of the story with Carol Pouliot
- James D. A. Terry
- Mar 1, 2021
- 6 min read
It seems like only a week ago we… Oh wait; it was only a week ago when we met together in The Reading Room where you're among like minded friends.
The familiar musty scent of books fills the air, the room is softly lit, the walls lined with deep rich mahogany shelves filled with wonderful books waiting to whisk you away to a wonderful land called Imagi Nation. Looking around you notice there is one empty seat just waiting for you. A low murmur of amiable voices gently greets your ears and immediately you sense you are among friends. Someone hands you a steaming cup of coffee and wrapping your cold hands around it you sink down into supple leather of one of the most comfortable chairs ever created, an Eames chair, with its cushions and arm rests luxuriously padded perfectly pitched, firm back. It really is as comfy as it looks.
A hush falls over the room as a well modulated baritone voice begins, “Welcome to the Reading Room, my friends. I see lots of familiar faces and some new ones. We’re glad you could join our conversation.
Please help me welcome, our friend, Carol Pouliot, author of The Blackwell and Watson Time-Travel Mysteries, which includes Doorway to Murder (book 1) and Threshold of Deceit (book 2).
Good morning Carol and welcome back to The Reading Room where you’re always among friends. We’re very glad you joined our conversation, for the love of books.
James: If you could have a cuppa with any author, dead or alive, who would you choose and what is the first question you would ask him or her?
Carol: I would love to sit down with Martha Grimes and talk about her Richard Jury mystery series, which I adore and constantly reread. Every aspect of those books – character, plot, setting − is extremely well developed. I would ask her to tell me about her writing process. How much of each book is planned ahead and how much does she let the characters take over? How does she manage to create such memorable characters? And...how does she choose the pubs?!
For those of you who haven’t yet had the pleasure, each of the Martha Grimes’s Jury novels is named after a real British pub, and the pub figures in the book. I have thoroughly enjoyed visiting several of them, notably The Dirty Duck in Stratford-upon-Avon, The Old Wine Shades (closed) in London, and The Lamorna Wink in Cornwall.
James: Martha Grimes is one of my favourite authors as well but I do wish Richard would once and for all put Harry Johnson behind bars.
I believe you have a new book coming out in the fall, could you please tell me the title, release date and perhaps an excerpt or even the opening sentence?
Carol: Yes. I’m excited to announce that Death Rang the Bell, the 3rd book in The Blackwell and Watson Time-Travel Mysteries, will be out September 21, 2021. It’s a Halloween mystery.
The setting is: NOVEMBER 1916 − SYRACUSE, NEW YORK
Chapter 1
Hot coffee spilled over the rim and burned her hand. Lillian wanted to cry. At nine o’clock in the morning she’d already been working three hours and she still had seven long hours to go. She didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to keep this up. The struggle to breathe was worsening; some days it was almost unbearable. She was constantly exhausted and her lungs felt ready to burst from the pressure. And probably from the disease too.
Lillian slid around several tables and set a heaping plate of eggs, bacon, sausages, potatoes, and toast in front of Arnie McCormack. Then, she topped off his cup from the pot in her other hand. McCormack lowered his newspaper and leered at her, pinching her behind as she stepped away. Rude bastard. She’d like to pour the scalding coffee over his head and dump his breakfast right in his lap.
The only thing that kept her going each day was the thought of her beautiful little boy. Well, not so little any more. He was growing up fast, nine years old in another month. She managed a slight smile and wiped away a tear before it became a flood. Best not to think too much about things, especially money. Lillian knew if she didn’t get the money somehow, she’d never see her son grow into a man.
And what about her letter? It had been four weeks since she’d mailed it. Surely, he should have written back by now. She hadn’t been unreasonable. She hadn’t asked for much. Just enough so she could pay for the treatment at Dr. Trudeau’s Little Red Cottage in Saranac Lake. Dr. Trudeau’s Little Red Cottage. It sounded like heaven. Lillian had heard such wonderful things about people being cured there. Just imagine, cured! The thought made her dizzy.
Lillian returned to the lunch counter using the backs of chairs along the way to support herself. By the time she arrived at the griddle, she was breathing hard.
Tomorrow, she thought, if I don’t get an answer tomorrow, I’ll send another letter.
James: Now for the moment we’ve all been waiting for. What behind-the-scenes tidbit in your life would probably surprise your readers the most?
Carol: Chapter 1 in Doorway to Murder actually happened to me. Invite me to your book club and I’ll tell you all about it. (Sophie’s comment to Olivia about nearly getting kidnapped in South America – that happened, too.)
James: Wow! You can’t leave us hanging, Carol. You’ve got to elaborate on these revelations, please.
Carol: Well, if you read Doorway to Murder, you know that story. If not...when I was 29 and living alone in my first apartment, one night in the middle of the night, I woke up abruptly from a deep sleep. Before I even opened my eyes, I knew someone was in the apartment. I looked at my bedroom door and saw a man standing there, silhouetted by a light in the living room behind him. I was absolutely terrified. My heart was pounding and my mind was silently screaming what am I going to do? How am I going to get out of here? I was paralyzed with fear. He slowly craned his neck and peered in at me. Then he straightened up, shook his head, and walked through the wall. WHAT?? It took me a long time to go back to sleep that first night.
My mystery man returned three more nights. By the second night, I wasn’t afraid anymore. On the fourth night, I said “Hello, are you real?” He disappeared and never came back.
I can still picture him as if it were yesterday. I never told anyone for a very long time−I mean, who would? But, lately, because the experience ended up being the inspiration for my series, I’ve become more comfortable sharing the story.
I decided it would be really cool if time had folded over and I had actually seen someone from another time. That’s Einstein’s theory. That was the inspiration for my series.
And almost getting kidnapped in South America...well, if it hadn’t happened to me, I wouldn’t believe it!
In 1994, I went to Venezuela for the wedding of a young man named Miguel, by then in his 30s, who had been a foreign student in the school where I taught. I flew to Caracas with his American “brother” Jack and Jack’s wife Annie (The names have been changed.) We stayed at Miguel’s sister’s place in Caracas that Thursday night. Friday morning, we flew up into the Andes Mountains to San Cristóbal, a small town near the Colombian border. Miguel’s father had rented out the entire hotel. As an honored teacher (so his dad told me), I was given the Marie Antoinette suite, an elegant pair of rooms decorated with white-and-gold French provincial furniture.
The wedding took place that evening, followed by an all-night reception, and breakfast Saturday morning. I learned the wedding was the social event of the decade in South America−think a Rockefeller marrying a Vanderbilt. Guests came from Paris and Buenos Aires, and everywhere else in Latin America. We were the only Americans.
Until I received my invitation, I didn’t know anything about Miguel’s family. It turned out they were extremely wealthy. They owned a dairy ranch the size of New York State and supplied all of Columbia and parts of Venezuela with all their dairy products. Miguel’s father continually dealt with complaints from workers and, throughout the towns on their ranch, had men working as spies to warn him of kidnapping attempts and unrest.
At about 2 in the morning, a worker in dirty clothes rushed into the reception and headed straight for Miguel’s dad. Miguel and Jack hurried over. Annie and I saw shocked faces and watched a lively conversation with lots of arm waving. A few moments later, a very somber Jack returned to our table and explained. A group of workers on the ranch were unhappy with their working conditions and planned to kidnap the bride and groom and the 3 Americans−Jack, Annie, and me−for a sizeable ransom. Miguel's father's spies had foiled the plot which had been planned for 2:30 that morning. We came within an hour of disaster.
James: Once again, thank you, Carol. It has been fascinating, insightful and as always a pleasure talking with you. We hope you will visit often and share your observations with us.
Bundle up warm and watch how you go on those snow covered streets everyone.
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