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A collection of 15 short stories, of which twelve are inter-related in one degree (they share the same heroine) or another (they are set in a small town in Kentucky).
When I commenced writing fiction 50 years ago, my first ventures were in the field of detective novels. Now if there's one thing I can't stand in mystery fiction, it's a third-person writer who, from his godly viewpoint, occasionally throws a few clues to the poor saps who have invested time and money in his book. Conan Doyle had the right idea. True, Dr Watson is not over-bright and Holmes does tend to go off on his own and unearth clues to which Watson is not privy. So, in my opinion, it's better still if the detective himself narrates the tale. I therefore wrote all my mystery novels in the first person. And as they were all praised to the skies by the critics (a pity they didn't sell to the same degree of elevation), it was obvious I was doing something right. It occurred to me that if I could master a masculine point of view, it would not require too much extra effort to write effectively from a feminine viewpoint. Hence, Micaela Morris, the adventurous, self-centered, quick-witted heroine of seven of these tales. I was right. The title story won a Commended Award in a national writing contest; "Fan-Fan" won the $500 First Prize in the 2002 Southern Cross Literary Competition; and "Grand Illusions" (in its screenplay format) won another First Prize. However, of the 15 stories in this collection, only 7 have won awards and only 6 have previously been published. The remainder were all written especially for this book.
Excerpt
"Micaela Morris? And you're the very best the agency could do, yes? The very best?" asked Mr Symington-Simms, the opera manager, his eyes darting over the top of his rimless spectacles like an angry barn owl. "Don't look much like a bodyguard to me."
"Expecting an Olympic weight-lifter? Not all ex-Country Club officials are built like tanks."
"What about experience?"
"One year as president, two years as manager, three years as trouble-shooter. Read my reference there from Captain Jorris."
"You can sing?"
"A singing fool am I --
A relic of old Capri,
I've no face to delight the eye,
All I can offer is me."
"I suppose you'll have to do," sighed Symington-Simms.
"Haven't said I'll take the job yet. Who's the body?"
"The agency didn't tell you? No? -- Bodyguard to the star of our show, Miss Vivian Hyland."
"I'll take, I'll take it! What's her big problem? Too many eager fans? I'll enjoy beating them off."
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