Dog Walking and Google by Joan Havelange

 

Click here for details and purchase information on Joan Havelange books https://bwlpublishing.ca/havelange-joan/

 

My son walks his dog every morning. And almost every morning, my son and his dog Luna stop for a chat. Luna, I suspect, stops for a doggie treat.

One morning, I was telling my son I didn’t sleep well because I was planning a murder. My son completely understands his wacky author mother. Not many mothers tell their sons that the reason they didn’t sleep was because of a murder. And this got me thinking about Google.

Google’s algorithms want to suggest feeds that are attuned to our wants or needs. I do think that authors must confuse AI, as we ask Google what type of guns were used in the Great War. Then, we ask for the recipe for ‘peach cobbler,’ how fast a Learjet goes, and the easiest way to clean oven racks. Or if a car crashes, does it go up in flames like the movies? And how much cyanide it would take to kill a person, and how long would it take. Google is a good way to do research. They say to write what you know. But who knows how to break a man’s neck with a karate kick? Not many. And if they do, I hope they don’t live near me. Anyway, we authors have a story to tell. And though I write fiction, I have to make it as real as possible.

For instance, in the historical murder mystery, ‘The Séance Murders,’ it was important to get the background right. Yes, the characters are fictional. But you need to know the lifestyle they led. The attitudes and social customs of the day. How they dressed. What was the city like in the period your story is set in? To be honest, I did mess up. I wrote a fabulous scene set in a streetcar. But thanks to the Regina Historical Club. I found out there were no motorized street cars in Regina in 1908. So, I had to delete a whole scene. Yes, Google is good, but always do a fact-check with the information that is there. Just like going to a doctor, a second opinion is important. But don’t get me wrong. I do Google.

But writing what you know for me has been valuable. For my mystery ‘Death and Denial,’ I could have googled information regarding Egypt. But I was there. And the idea for my mystery came about when I boarded the riverboat. Riverboats are rafted together. And you walk through some really old boats before you get to the riverboat you are going to sail down the Nile in. And Google might tell you what you can see. But it can’t give you the sounds and the smells of Egypt. Nor can it give you a feel of what the people are like.

I hope you enjoy the snippet from ‘Death and Denial,’ my Egyptian travel mystery.

 

Chapter One

Mabel Havelock felt a hot moist breath in her ear. She woke with a start. “What the hell?” A strange man’s head rested on her shoulder. His mouth hung open, and his stale breath smelled of garlic. Mabel wiggled her shoulders, he groaned but didn’t move. She wriggled again with more force. The portly man snorted, and his chubby red cheeks puffed out, blowing more foul breath into her face. Wrinkling her nose, and using her fingertips, she pushed on the side of his forehead. The man snorted and turned his head. Mabel sighed as she looked around the darkened airplane, everyone appeared to be asleep but her. She squirmed in her seat, the armrest digging into her side. She looked enviously at her best friend Violet Ficher, sleeping in the seat by the window. How her six-foot-tall friend could sleep in the pocket-size closet the airline provided for their passengers was beyond her? Mabel barely five-feet-tall, jammed in the middle seat, felt cramped. Mabel and Violet, two retired nurses, were on an overnight flight to Frankfurt. There, they would change planes and continue their journey to Egypt. Being Mabel’s first flight out of the country, she was nervous, tired, and uncomfortable. She shifted in the seat, her back ached, and her legs were numb. Seven hours on the plane was way too long in her opinion. Unless you flew first-class, and they certainly weren’t. The big burly man in the aisle seat snorted, his head slumped onto her shoulder. She grimaced and jiggled her shoulders, and the man’s head slid back. He snored, sounding like a demented wild hog. A baby’s cry mingled with the man’s snoring. Mabel twisted and reached for the skinny little airplane pillow. It had slipped down wedged between her and the large man. She yanked on the pillow. It popped out, and the man turned to face her. She screwed up her nose and threw the thin airline blanket over her head. Mabel sat under the blanket and sighed, her seat was hard, and now the darn armrest dug into her other side. The drone of the plane did nothing to drown out the snoring and coughing of her fellow passengers. Good Lord, she fumed silently. How on earth do these people sleep with all this 5 racket? Wide awake, she threw off her blanket, deciding she needed to use the washroom. The thought of the tiny washroom with its supersonic flush made her grimace. But at least there would be no lineup, somehow everyone else was sleeping. Her next obstacle was to negotiate past the big sleeping man. Half sitting and half standing, she put one short leg over the man’s crossed ankles. Grabbing the back of the seat in front of her, she pushed herself over the man. Her hand slipped, and she landed on his lap. “Hey, what the hell,” grunted the red-faced man. Embarrassed, Mabel quickly regained her seat. “Oh, I’m so sorry I didn’t want to wake you,” she apologized. “Well, you did,” the man snarled. He grabbed Mabel’s pillow and tucked it under his head and turned his back toward her. “I’m on my way to the washroom,” Mabel whispered, it surprised her Violet hadn’t woken up. “Whatever,” the man grumbled. Mabel pulled the pillow from under the man’s head. “I still want to go to the washroom.” The man’s head fell back against the seat. “What the hell?” “That’s my pillow.” “Humph,” the man mumbled, covering his shoulder with his blanket. Mabel tapped on his arm. The man snorted then glared at Mabel. “What the hell now?” “Sir, I said I still need to use the washroom. If you don’t want me to sit on your lap again, I suggest you get up and let me by.” The man lumbered himself out of his seat. “I suppose you’re going to wake me up again when you come back,” he complained. “Unless I parachute out of this tin box, I suppose I will.” Mabel pursed her lips, what a rude man. She crept down the darkened aisle, guided by the tiny lights on either side of the carpet, past the sleeping passengers. Were the first-class washrooms bigger than the broom closets in the economy section? She had seen the pod-like seats in first-class when they boarded. It was dark, and everyone was sleeping, she grinned to herself and turned around in the aisle. She would use the washroom in first-class. What could they do, take away her birthday? 6 Mabel quietly approached the first-class section and poked her head through the curtain that separated first-class from economy. Everyone appeared to be asleep. She stepped through the curtain, but her first step was her last. She stepped on a discarded paper cup and fell with a thump, sliding halfway under the curtain. Embarrassed, Mabel lay perfectly still, then she crawled crab-like back to economy. Rubbing her bruised bottom, she regained her feet, listening, did anyone in first-class see or hear her? She heard a voice on the other side of the divider. “Did you hear that? What was that?” Mabel bit her lip. She’d been spotted. “Don’t worry, it was nothing. Something fell in economy,” whispered a gravelly voice. “Anyway, I’ve thought about it, and you’re right. Egypt is the perfect place to kill her. The Egyptian police are not as smart as we are, our plan is perfect.” “Shut up, you idiot, someone could be listening,” another voice whispered harshly. “Everyone is asleep, don’t worry.” “What about that noise? I’m sure I heard someone.” “No, it wasn’t anybody. I told you something fell behind us in economy.” “You better hope that’s all it was.” Mabel stood stock still. She had just overheard a murder plot. A hand grabbed her shoulder, she jumped.

https://books2read.com/Death-and-Denial